I took his hand, placed it gently between my breasts, over my heart, amused and touched by the quick breath he took. “Be yourself. Always, always be you. It’s you that I’m falling for. Changing that is the only way you’re going to mess this up. Be you. Just you.”
He swallowed, and nodded.
“You could have just asked me to take my top off, you know,” I added, grinning.
“And would you have?”
“For you… after tonight? God, yes. I’d flaunt myself for you shamelessly, like the hussy I am. In fact…” I rolled away from him, and reached for the hem of my jersey, wincing. My shoulder twinged, and I hissed for breath. “Can’t get this fucking thing off,” I moaned.
“Do you…”
“Yes. Please, but gently. I’m sore and it hurts to move my arms like this.”
He was gentle, slow, and so tender, and the little hiss of appreciation he let out as my jersey came free made the brief discomfort worthwhile.
“Nice bra,” he murmured, trying for nonchalance.
“Thanks. I like it. It fits nicely and gives me cleavage I don’t have.”
“Well, take it from me, it’s doing a fantastic job.”
“So, where’s this mythical muscle salve? Or was that just a bluff?”
He sighed theatrically, clambered out of bed, and dug around in his chest of drawers. Then he waved a tube of Reparil Gel at me.
“Let me see if I can make you feel a bit better. This stuff works a charm on my bruises, hopefully it will do the same for you.”
“Connor?” I said, rising to my knees.
“Yeah?”
I unclipped my bra, dropped it to one side, and, smiling, gave him a few seconds to appreciate my bared breasts. Then, wincing, I lay down on my stomach. “Be gentle,” I whispered, “and I’ll let you see me again.”
.:.
His hands brushed my back like the kisses of butterflies. He didn’t press, didn’t massage, just very gently spread the gel over my shoulder blades and rib cage. He behaved himself impeccably, not straying even when I arched slightly to try to tease his fingers closer to the sides of my breasts. Frustration and need ramped up in me as the minutes passed; I listened to his deep, regular breaths and fantasised shamelessly about him yanking up my skirt, pulling aside my pantihose and entering me, taking me as his own, forcing himself on me, into me.
I could feel the heat in me, and I knew that I was soaking wet – I was rapidly approaching the point where he could do anything he wanted to me and I would simply come and come again, most likely screaming.
“You are absolutely beautiful, you know,” he observed, matter of fact. “Slender, fair-skinned, green eyes, black hair. It’s like you’re one of the pagan goddesses brought to life.”
“You’re deranged,” I shifted my hips, enjoying the pressure on my belly as he gently rubbed down to the small of my back. “Three seconds of boobs and you’re consumed with desire.”
“Your breasts are spectacular. Three seconds of them is against the Geneva conventions.”
“Spectacular?”
“Unbelievable. I’d need to see them again to believe them. At the moment they’re like fairy gold. Things glimpsed once.”
I laughed, and gingerly reached up to brush a strand of hair away from my face. I’ve always wished they were bigger.”
“No. Definitely not, they’re marvelous just the way they are.”
“I’m admitting secrets I shouldn’t, but I’m really glad you like them.”
“How glad?” he breathed into my ear.
I whimpered and wriggled slightly. “Consumingly,” I managed.
“I’m glad too then,” he murmured, planting a soft kiss in the small of my back.
“Connor,” I moaned. “Connor, you’re killing me.”
“Don’t look to me for sympathy,” he answered softly. “I’ve been dying since this morning when I woke up next to you,”
“Were you… hard?”
“Very. Exceptionally. Those gym shorts of yours should be illegal. And I’ve been consumed by them… by you… all day. By the need to be close to you again, to touch you, hold you…”
“Taste me,” I moaned.
“Among other things,” he breathed into my ear again.
“I love this,” I whispered. “I love that I feel so natural, so open with you. I don’t have to be ashamed of being hot-blooded. I don’t have to be ashamed of saying that I’m aching for you. That you’ve got me wetter than I ever remember being.”
“Why should you ever feel ashamed for that? It’s a massive compliment.”
“Some men find it threatening.”
“Some men are idiots.”
“True. Connor?”
“Ceri?”
“Help me roll over. You’ve earned a reward.”
“Touching you like this is enough for me… for now.”
“But not for me. Help me roll over.”
“Are you sure?”
“Connor. Don’t argue with me now. Help.”
He gently supported my shoulder as I levered myself onto my side, and I grinned up at him as I heard the shuddering breath he took as he saw me again.
“God, Ceri, this is torture.”
I rolled slowly onto my back, baring my breasts to him. “Is it?” I breathed, as I trailed a fingertip over myself. “Torture? Or just temptation?”
“Rapture, maybe. With a healthy dose of fear.”
“Why fear?”
“Because I’m scared I’ll wake up from this dream.”
“Connor.”
“Uh huh.”
“Come here.”
He moved in, leaned over me, tried gallantly not to look at my breasts, but failed miserably.
I reached up, tangling the fingers of my right hand in his hair.
I pulled him down to me.
I kissed him.
.:.
How do you describe the best kiss of your life? The fire it lights in you? The way your heart kicks into overdrive, the way your senses seem to expand? The faintness and shortness of breath that follows? I can’t. All I can describe is the feelings.
I could taste the sweat on his lips. I could feel the stubble along his chin.
He was hard. Harder. I was grinding against him, making him mine while making myself so utterly his that I seemed to pass out from my body and go elsewhere for a heartbeat.
“Ceri,” he gasped, breaking for breath.
“Kiss my breasts,” I begged. “I’m burning for you. I have been for over a day. I need your lips on me, Connor, need it, please, I’m begging you…”
His teeth on my nipples. Oh my god. Oh my god. And the soft sounds that he made as he teased, licked, tongued me. The dance of his fingertips on and around my breasts; the heat of his breath on my skin. The spasm that locked my back in an arch, head thrown back as I moaned his name. The rough callouses on his palms as he gently pinched me between thumb and ring finger. The rigid bar of his penis, pushing into my hip. The hot, aching slickness of my pussy as I jammed a hand down under my skirt to touch myself. The spasm that took me again as I penetrated myself.
And the way he forced himself against me, groaning, as I slipped my slick finger between his lips so he could taste what he’d done to me.
Without words, without prompting, he gathered me to him. I could feel the hard rod of him against me, throbbing as he ground on me, and the last of my reserve burned away in the blowtorch of my need to come. I forced my hand down under my clothes again, and frantically, almost spastic, I pushed into myself and drove my fingers in and out of my wet, aching, ready slit. I was whimpering for breath, writhing spasmodically against him; and in a few short panting breaths I built, tensed, and came, crying, bucking hard, conscious even in my utterly deranged state of the hand he’d cupped over mine between my legs, the pressure he added, the feel of his skin against me.
.:.
“Fuck me,” I whimpered into his chest as he held me. “Fuck me, that was intense. Oh god, Connor, that was special.”
“You have no idea,” he breathed. “That was possibly the hottest, kinkiest thing I’ve ever experienced. My god, woman, you drive me wild.”
“Did you enjoy the show?” I panted.
“I loved it. Loved it. Especially the closing act. Ceri, your body is perfect. Oh my god, so perfect.”
“I loved having your hand on my lips, Connor. Loved it. And would love it now too. You can have me, have anything of me, right now. I’m yours. Yours to have.”
“No,” he breathed. “No, not yet. Not yet.”
“Why?” I protested. “Why not?”
“Because I’m so wired up right now I’ll last two seconds in you. I won’t even get in you. I’ll come all over you the moment I touch you.” I laughed. “You think I’ll last any longer? Connor, you could touch my lips once and I’d forget my own name.”
“I want to more than anything, Ceri. More than anything. But I want… I want to be in you for hours, not seconds.”
“You don’t have to use your cock…” I breathed.
“You want…”
“I don’t care what you do,” I whimpered. “I don’t care, I don’t care, a million times I don’t care. I need it, I need you, I need to come hard for you right now because I am dying, dying for you in me. Do me, I don’t care how. Make me come. Make me yours. Make me scream for you, Connor, make me…”
I felt him shifting, and then felt his fingers on the waistband of my skirt. I lifted my bum, and in one quick fluid movement he’d pulled skirt and pantihose down and off my body.
“God,” he breathed.
“Panties too,” I moaned. “I want to be naked for you.”
He obliged me, gently, and the awed “Fuck” he let out as he pulled them clear made me laugh.
“I’m glad you approve,” I whimpered. “Glad. So glad. Now put me out of my miseraaaaugh.”
His fingertip sent jolts through me as he slipped it into me, and the second made me cry out and claw at the bedsheets. Connor gently stroked them in and out, along my slit, parting my labia and teasing slickly around my engorged, aching clit. I wailed, belly spasming, legs aching as I lifted myself, ground myself against his digits.
“Connor… Connor… oh god, oh god,’ I panted. I spread my legs further, moaning at the pain that lanced through me but not caring, wanting him in me. “Please… in… in,” I begged, “Don’t… tease me… like… this…”