The Private Serials Box Set(46)
His thumb found my clit and he made slow, lazy circles around it, never touching it, just teasing it. My hips, again, searched for the friction my body so fiercely desired, grinding up against his hand, hoping to catch the right angle to send me over the edge. I felt him chuckle, which only made me more determined, throwing more vigor into my efforts.
Without any warning, he pulled out of me and took his hand from my breast, leaving me cold and frustrated. I groaned my displeasure, but still couldn’t see anything to determine what was going on.
His hands came to mine and pull them over his head. My nightgown came up over my head and he pulled it up my arms and off my body. I left my eyes closed, not wanting to break the spell between us. I wanted him to be in control, wanted him to take charge. I wanted to trust him and give him everything. His ankles released my legs and he scooted away from me, leaving me for just a moment sitting on his couch with my hands in the air, feeling a little like an idiot.
When he came back to me, he pressed his hand against the skin between my shoulder blades and gently pushed me forward.
“On your knees, Lena,” he rasped at me. My heart thundered in my chest as I maneuvered myself to my knees. My legs trembled with anticipation and apprehension, and before I knew what was happening his hands were on my hips, pulling me backward. Then his other hand was on my shoulder, pushing me down until my hands found the couch on either side of his thighs. I felt his fingers pull my panties to the side and then I felt his warm tongue glide over my opening.
I gasped, unable to keep my surprise quiet, but soon started mewling as his tongue found every spot inside me that begged for his attention. He kissed my * as if he’d waited to do it his whole life, ate me as if he’d been starved, and I cried out every time his tongue flicked my clit. I moaned and mewled as I rocked up against his mouth, wanting nothing more than to find that high he’d brought me to before. I felt precariously close to the edge and silently begged him to push me over, to find that spot that I knew would send me flying.
On one particularly sensitive pass of his tongue, I cried out and opened my eyes, unable to keep them closed through the jolt of pleasure, and I found myself looking directly at his erection tenting his jeans. Without thinking, I pulled open the button and undid the zipper, reaching into his briefs and pulling out his hot and hard cock.
Even though I still found myself on the edge of what would surely be a glorious orgasm, I couldn’t resist the urge to put him in my mouth. I leaned down and slowly licked the head of his cock, relishing in the purely masculine smell of him and the salty taste of the pre-cum that waited for me. I placed the tip in my mouth and then took him all in, sucking him back as far as I could. I felt his leg tense underneath my hand and I felt him groan against my clit, the vibration of his voice adding another sexy dimension to our tryst.
I slid my mouth up and down, trying as much as I could to take him deeply and then swirl my tongue around his head, listening to him moan and using that to gauge what he liked most.
We devoured each other, neither one of us stopping for anything except staggered breaths and guttural moans. He found one particular rhythm, fingers crooked against the front wall of my sex, tongue flicking quickly over my clit, and the combination sent me rocketing into an intense and shattering orgasm. I came hard and fast, still recovering from the electric waves coursing through my body when I felt him slide out from under me, kneel behind me, and thrust inside.
I gasped, still sensitive from the orgasm I hadn’t fully recovered from, and he cursed, all manner of four-letter words falling from his mouth.
“Fuck me, Lena. Shit. I love your *. Damn.” Each word toppled from his mouth, was grunted out with gasping breaths.
I couldn’t respond with more than a groan, still reeling from my climax, but I reached back to squeeze his thigh, hoping that relayed my mirrored appreciation. This wasn’t flowery. It wasn’t the sweet lovemaking we’d already had; this was rough, primal, and entirely base. It was dirty. It was hot.
Even though he caught me off guard, I still felt myself falling into the role, needing to participate. I started by gently moving my hips back to meet his thrusts, trying to match his rhythm. When my ass connected with his hips, we both cried out. My fingers dug into the arm of the couch, both from the bliss spiraling through me and trying to find purchase on something to keep me upright while I used my body to help Preston find his climax. I used the couch to push myself back onto him again, this time crying out from the new depths he reached inside of me.
“Christ, Lena,” he growled.
We kept pace, each of us working to find that cliff we could both dive off together. His hands moved around my body, holding on to different parts, trying to get even deeper still. He gripped my hips, pulling me backward. One hand moved to my shoulder, gripping me, forcing me on to him. He even wound his hand through my hair, holding it firmly at its roots. That single act, feeling his hand woven through the length, using it to bring himself gratification, it was possibly the most erotic moment of my life – the most sexually fulfilling experience. It wasn’t intimate – I couldn’t even see his face – but it was. Weirdly so, in fact. His hands on me, my need to feel him in the deepest part of me possible; it screamed intimacy. I couldn’t see his eyes, but I didn’t need to in order to know what they looked like in that moment. They’d be dark and glassy, and they’d be focused on me.
His speed picked up and I worked to match him. When I felt him grow even harder inside me, when I heard his breaths speed up, then stop all together, I knew he was close. I pushed my ass back toward him again, but when I felt him seated in me fully, I added a swivel to my hips and ground back onto him.