“I don’t—I don’t know. I haven’t, I guess.” She tangled her fingers in mine and slid our joined palms across her belly. “But now I need you. I need to n-n-know you still want mmm-me.”
Usually she would take over at that point. I loved it when she did that, when she showed me with such fiery domination how much she wanted me, how much she loved me. She was so demure, so quiet and proper in most other situations, that when she cut loose in the bedroom, it drove me wild.
Now I realized she needed something else, something different. She needed me to show her the way back.
I started with a kiss. I moved closer, my front to hers. Not over her, but face to face, on our sides. I slid my lips across her cheekbone, ghosted down to the corner of her mouth, kissed her there first. She gasped gently and held her breath, her hand resting on my ribs, the other tucked up between us. I grazed her lips, her silk merging with my chapped ridges, rough against soft. Heat and moisture met my mouth, and I ever so hesitantly moved our lips together, sealing our mouths.
She didn’t return the kiss; she lay frozen beside me and let me kiss her, let me probe her slightly parted lips with my tongue. I pulled away, cupped her face in my palms, and kissed her again, deeper this time, more confidently. Her fingers curled against my skin, and now she finally moved her lips against mine, opened to my kiss and began to return it.
I pushed her slowly to her back and followed so I was leaning over her. She splayed her palm on my shoulder, the other on the nape of my neck, and she kissed me back.
Desperation built inside me, but I pushed it down, kept it bay. Gray blushed into hazy pink, and still we kissed, making out like we did in the days before the lines were crossed. I kissed her, and put all my love into that kiss, all my need. I kissed her to show her how much I missed her. She’d been there physically, but had been absent emotionally. Now she was coming back to me, and I kissed her in welcome.
Her fingers clutched my hair, clawed against my spine. Then her calf snaked around mine, and it was time to push the lines again. I slid her shirt up, up, parted the kiss to pass the cotton between us and over her head, set it aside. Nothing beneath but taut, firm, dusky flesh. Peaked ni**les and the inward curve from breast to hip, br**sts pulled to either side by gravity, heavy, areolae wide circles darker than her flesh. She held the back of my head with both hands as I pressed a kiss to her shoulder, slid my lips across her skin to the rise of one breast. Her breathing caught, and I kept going. I dragged my tongue across her pebbled nipple and felt it rise beneath my lips, going erect under my breath. I thumbed her other nipple erect, circled it with the pad of my thumb, then scraped my fingernail across it gently as I pinched the other with my lips and teeth.
“Jason…” she breathed.
I wasn’t sure what she was begging me to do. “Tell me what you want, baby.”
“Give me…m-m-more.” She rubbed my calves with hers. “Give me…sh-show me…more.”
I slid my mouth to lave kisses on her other breast, rolling her nipple between my lips. Then lower. I kissed between her br**sts, the undersides, then lower. I kissed her belly, over her navel, each hip. And then lower.
I knew the moment when she realized my intentions when she drew her knees up to either side of me, framing me in the “V” of her thighs. She spread herself open to me, eager for anything I could give her. She wanted to feel, to escape, to be lifted away from the earth for a while, to lose herself in the waves of ecstasy.
So that’s exactly what I planned to give her. Wave after wave of escape, until she begged me stop.
I trailed feathery kisses along her thigh, up to her knee, crossed empty space and kissed her other knee, ran my tongue down the inside of her leg to the hollow between hip and folds. She arched her back slightly, a silent encouragement. I kissed her lower lips, spreading them with my mouth and driving my tongue inside her. She moaned in relief, clutching my head in her hands. I kissed her there slowly, sucking her clit into my mouth and flicking it with my tongue, licking upward and circling. When she began to buck beneath me, I slowed to soft, fat swipes of my tongue up her folds, and then gradually increased my pace until she was desperate beneath me once again.
And then I slowed.
She tangled her fingers in my hair and pulled me against her. “Please, Jason. Please.”
I gave it to her. I let my mouth and tongue match her wild thrashing pace, her hips lifting off the bed, her moans turning to ululating screams as she came. When she crushed my head with her thighs, I slid my fingers between our bodies and searched her opening, finding wet warmth.
The warmth resisted, though, and I pushed gently inward.
“Wrong…wrong place,” she murmured, gasping in shock, almost laughing.
“Oh…oh, my god, I’m sorry—”
“Don’t…don’t stop. It’s…I l-like it.”
I froze in surprise. This was something we’d never discussed, never tried. “Are you sure?”
“God, yes. Just don’t stop. More. Every—everything. More.”
I flicked her clit with my tongue, and she arched off the bed, whimpering. Gently, hesitantly, I let my longest middle finger probe her tight opening. Becca moaned and shifted her hips, pushing downward. An encouragement. I pulsed my finger slightly, not pushing in, but testing her resistance. She whimpered and then gasped with her mouth open wide as I gradually insinuated my finger into her rear opening. My mouth worked on her clit, slowing and speeding as she bucked against me, driving my finger deeper into her. I felt her muscles constrict around my middle finger, rippling in tightening waves, and then she cried out in a breathless scream that turned to a full-voiced shriek as the orgasm washed over her. She came, and she came, and she came. Every contraction of her muscles worked my finger deeper, and with every inserted centimeter she widened her legs and shifted her hips lower. I laved her folds with relentless hunger, not letting her down from the second orgasm. Becca’s rocking hips and whimpering screams slowed slightly as the orgasm retreated, and then increased again as a third climax took hold. She was panting and barely able to moan by the time the third round of waves ended.
“I need…y-you.” Becca pulled me up to her level, crushed her mouth to mine.
“Do you taste yourself?”
“Yes…”
“I like the way you taste.”
“In…” Becca fumbled with my underwear, pushing at it until we got it off together. “I need…you. Ins-s-sss-side me.”