Well Met(66)

The first stroke was with his fingers. The second was with his tongue. I collapsed flat on the bed as he got to work. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t breathe. Every nerve ending, everything that made up every molecule of me, was focused on Simon’s mouth on my body. Nothing else mattered.

He kissed. He explored in slow, maddening licks. Fingertips dipped, stroked, discovered. He moved so slowly, so sweetly, that I didn’t feel anything build, there was no anticipation, and I wasn’t prepared for the orgasm that ripped through me. Before I was ready I was convulsing against his tongue and his fingers, gasping with breathless cries, fighting to roll my hips while he held me down with one hand and his mouth gave no mercy.

After what felt like a lifetime my body calmed, and Simon eased his grip on me. I stared up at the ceiling, which I could now see pretty well in the dark.

“Okay, I’m impressed,” I told the ceiling. “You’ve got quite the mouth on you.”

There was that chuckle again, and the bed dipped beside me as Simon crawled up to join me. Now thoroughly acquainted with the bottom half of my body, he seemed determined to do the same with the top, starting with my navel. He kissed a path up my sternum, licking his way to my breasts. If he had a problem with their size he didn’t let it show. In fact, he gave them plenty of attention, enough to make my breath come out in whimpering sighs. I struggled to sit up, grasping for him, needing his mouth on mine again. He kissed me slow and deep, and I caught his moan in my mouth. I rolled into him, twining my legs around and between his, when—

“What the hell?” I pulled away and looked down. “Why are you still wearing pants?”

“It’s not my fault.” Simon leaned in to kiss my neck, and one of his hands moved south again, where I was still a little sensitive. “I got distracted.”

“No, you don’t.” I squirmed out of his embrace and scrabbled at his jeans, popping the button and wrestling the zipper down. “Get these off.” Our laughs combined as we got him naked. When he pulled me back into his arms there was finally nothing between us, and we both sighed together at the feel of nothing but skin against skin. His cock pressed against my lower stomach, hard and hot and impossible to ignore. I snaked a hand between our bodies to curl around him, and he hissed at the contact.

“Wait.” His voice shook as I gave him a long, slow stroke. I ignored his plea and concentrated on learning the feel of him, heavy in my hand and slowly growing slick as I established a lazy rhythm. “Wait. God, Emily. Wait, please.” He leaned away to fumble in his nightstand, and I grinned and nibbled on his shoulder. Revenge was fantastic.

“Very nice,” I said in response to the rip of the condom wrapper. “I like a man who’s prepared.”

His laugh was harsh and desperate, and it made my smile widen. “Not even close. You have no idea how relieved I was that I had one in there. It’s been a while.”

“Yeah?” The thought warmed me, reinforced the feeling that this was right. I was where I was supposed to be.

“Yeah.” The laughter was gone from his voice now, and my heart thudded as he reached for me again, this time with purpose. But instead of rolling me under him like I expected, he pulled me into him, both of us still on our sides, and hooked my leg over his hip. We were face to face, belly to belly, and he took my hand and brought it back to his cock. “Please.” His voice was little more than breath now. His forehead was pressed to mine, and as I stroked him a sigh shuddered out of him. “Please.”

I knew what he was asking for. I guided him, teasing the both of us with the tip of him stroking my clit. Then he hitched my leg higher on his hip and he rocked into me, just a little. A strangled sound that could have come from either of us broke the night. He withdrew and pushed into me again, then again, each time a little deeper until finally he was buried inside me, our hips flush against each other.

He didn’t move at first. Instead his mouth sought out mine and I kissed him like I was trying to get even closer to him, pull him in deeper. He moved slowly, soft pulses like he couldn’t bear to pull all the way out. I was fine with that. Now that we were connected I didn’t want him to go away.

But not for long. As his breathing deepened his thrusts became more insistent, and I felt urgency rise in me again. Before long I rocked against him, meeting his passion with my own. His breath came in pants, hot in my ear. His hand was warm and sure at the small of my back, tilting my hips, changing the angle of his body in mine.

He was close. I could feel it in the way he moved, his rhythm stuttering. His hand fell from my back to my thigh, pulling it higher, tighter against him. Once my body was positioned like he wanted it he slid a hand between our bodies. “You can come again, love. I know you can.” It wasn’t a question. Not a request. It was a command, growled in my ear by a pirate, whose fingertips stroked me in short, quick circles. Heat coursed through me and I gripped the back of his neck, my fingernails digging into his skin. He growled from deep in his chest, and the rumble of it sent shivers across my skin. When he stroked me harder I bowed against him, wanting to escape the overwhelming feelings and trying to get more of him at the same time.

Everything built again, fast, from where he stroked me, where he rocked against me, building higher and higher until I tightened and broke in his arms. I clung to him and cried out as waves crashed through me and I spasmed around him.