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Turning those molten pools onto me he watched through his lashes as he dragged the flat of his tongue along the length of my slit, so agonisingly slow it felt as though my skin was burning, melting. The sensation was astonishingly different, as if moving the nerves altered the way they responded. It took that second to realise how ensnared I was, in spite of not being bound I was no more mobile. Again he licked, starting with a tiny swirl of his tongue at the heart of my opening before sliding it up and up, the brief contact with my clitoris jolting as a sensual shudder rode me hard.
His left arm snaked up my body where his fingers found the taut pike of my nipple, tweaking and rolling. I was close, so close as the sensations crashed through my body, everything converging in that demanding bundle of nerves that cooled the moment the blanket of his tongue swept away from it.
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It was the maddening lapping, the contrast between the heat of his mouth and the cooling contact with the air, the view I had from my vantage point as he watched me watching him lick me, the tugging at my nipple and finally the leisurely finger he pushed inside, rimming just inside my entrance. I wanted more of everything but at the same time fearing the force of what I could feel breaking over me.
He groaned his delight before rewarding me with another long lap, this time gently suckling my clitoris into the wet fever of his mouth. He held it there, sweeping his tongue along the underside in rapid flutters while his finger, only first knuckle-deep, stretched and slowly circled the edge of my opening. I wanted to remain like this — forever — melting from the inside out with the sheer pleasure of it but I also wanted that pleasure to come to a head, to tear me out and away from myself with the blinding explosion I could feel was fast coming my way.
This time in earnest as he doubled his tempo, the flick of his licks growing shorter, hot and focussed on where I needed it. There was nothing I could do to hold back the brusque stiffening of my legs and core when he switched the lazy stroke of his finger to a hard and fast pump.
The orgasm overtook me, like a full body spasm it coiled tighter still, curling in on itself then snapped with a stunning burst as I surrendered, letting it shudder through me with the force of a V jolt. The earth shook then, quaking just for me as he drew every last contraction with a tongue intent on the cream of my release. Holy fucking hell, my head was indeed spinning but I had no time to dwell on it.
With what little strength I had I lifted a leg so he could secure it around him. Swiftly, gracefully he turned and moved us to the new bench. He set me down on my bottom and again sank to his knees on the floor.
Instantly his earlier comment about the height of the piece explained itself. Our bodies were perfectly aligned for penetration, him kneeling on the floor and me on top of the seat. He gave me a wicked grin, self-assured brow cocked as he took himself in hand, stroking. I sat back, legs apart and supporting myself on my hands behind my back as I took in his virile maleness, not for the first time marvelling at the fact that he was mine.
He ran his plush head along the length of me, gathering all the glossy wetness and reigniting tissues that I thought would be sated after that shattering spend. Around his mouth I saw the sheen of my lust, glistening in the low light.
When he curled a finger to call me closer I met him eagerly, kissing, tasting, loving the feel of him now that I was able to scrape my nails over the ripped muscles of his broad back. Hold on to the edge.
I curled my hands around the side of the bench as I flattened myself onto the surface. In this position I was stretched out perfectly, as though the seat was made with my proportions in mind. All I could do was straighten them, open wide and balance on my flexed toes. Christian wasted no time adjusting me to suit his amorous plans.
He gripped my legs from behind, just above my knees to spread me wider, careful not to strain my muscles that were still warm and lax from my orgasm. Gently he pushed until my legs were completely open, running along the line of the edge as they joined my torso on the padded top.
Silently I thanked my mom for the endless supply of Pilates DVDs she plied me with over the last two years, keeping me supple enough to hold what was basically a full split pose. It seemed that he was bringing the red room into our everyday lives in the form of innocuous pieces of furniture whose real purpose would be a secret only the two of us shared. The stretch of my opening immediately made it feel hollow, yearning for the fullness only his girth could give me but he was toying with us, withholding.
His strong hands kneaded into the soft globes of my behind, fingers digging firmly into my flesh.
I love looking at it. I knew his stormy gaze was locked to the valley between my cheeks and all the delights it held there. The slippery trickle of lubrication my body produced whenever he was near was now closer to a gush. His gravelly moan filled my senses as it reverberated through me. As his fingers massaged my ass, the movements skimming my clitoris against the seat below with maddening unpredictability, I could feel his thumbs on either side of my entrance — pressing, pushing, gently prying the sides away from each other.
It was deliciously torturous, making me extremely aware of the growing emptiness that simply had to be filled. Tell me!Mouse templates for coloring. Website builder software templates.
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