Before We Kiss (Fool's Gold #14)(63)
“I think I’m supposed to do something like this,” she murmured into his back, searching for the pressure points Lark had described. At the same time, she closed her fingers around his arousal and began to stroke him.
“If I find them and push on them,” she continued, “you’ll get unbearably close, but won’t go over the edge. What did she call it? Orgasm without release?”
Using her middle finger the way Lark had explained, she gently applied pressure just under the apex of his scrotum. She found the other positions for her fingers. As she continued to move her right hand up and down, she increased the pressure with her left until Sam’s breath increased and his body began to shake. She could feel him getting closer and closer, but if Lark was right, there was no way he was going to have an orgasm. The other woman had claimed a man could go like this for hours.
“Dellina,” he began.
“Shh. Let me enjoy this for a few more minutes.”
“What if my mother’s wrong?”
She considered the question, then pressed her mouth to his spine. “I suppose I’ll have to let you make me come a couple of times while we wait for you to recover. I’m not sure I see a bad in that.”
She decided to test the theory and moved her hand faster and faster. She felt him get even bigger, and if his rapid breathing was anything to go by, he was incredibly close. But no matter how she caressed him and how his breath caught and he trembled, he didn’t climax.
She slowed her hand. Lark had been very clear to stop that stimulation before releasing the pressure points, or there was going to be a mess everywhere. After giving him a second to catch his breath, she drew away both hands.
She was about to say how fun that was, but before she could speak Sam was spinning her to face him. In less than a nanosecond, her shirt was off, her bra was flying, his hands were on her br**sts and he was kissing her with more passion than she’d ever felt before in her life. His lips claimed, his tongue demanded and as she wrapped her arms around him, she thought maybe this standing thing was highly overrated.
She hung on, loving the feel of him so close. He teased her br**sts, concentrating on her hard, tight ni**les. He touched and stroked until she was writhing. Her jeans were heavy and very much in the way. She wanted them both naked, preferably with him inside of her.
“Sam,” she breathed against his mouth.
He drew back just enough to bend over and pick her up in his arms. She shrieked and hung on as he carried her to the bed. He set her down on her back. After unzipping her jeans, he took them and her panties off.
Better, she thought, liking that he was still incredibly hard. All that for her.
He had already poured a couple of glasses of champagne. Now he took a drink from one but didn’t swallow. He got on the bed, slipped between her legs and gave her an openmouthed kiss right on her clitoris. He was hot, the champagne was cold and fizzy and she couldn’t help gasping. Or possibly shrieking.
The sensations were incredible. Especially when he moved his tongue through the champagne. Hot and cold mingled, as did the bubbles dancing across her most sensitive spot. He swallowed and sat up enough to reach for the glass again.
This time she was prepared, or so she’d thought. Because she wasn’t the only one who had been paying attention during the lecture. As Sam gave her another openmouthed kiss, he pressed his knuckle right at the base of her clit. He moved it up and down in tiny increments. She braced herself because Lark had warned them that when the man found the right—
“Oh, please!” she gasped, not caring that she was begging.
He’d found it. The nerve, the connection, the whatever it was that made her hypersensitive to everything he was doing. If his tongue on her was usually a nine, this was a two hundred. She could feel the individual champagne bubbles, and when he moved his tongue, she went from aroused to on the verge of climaxing in a single exhale.
Only she didn’t. She was there—right there. So close she could see it. Feel it. Beg for it. But there was no over the top.
He swallowed the champagne and continued to stroke her with his tongue. She gasped, she writhed, she pumped her hips. So. Damn. Close. Right on the edge.
With every stroke, she knew she was finally going to fall. She’d never felt anything so arousing. But she couldn’t get to the other side.
He shifted and pushed two fingers inside of her.
“Sam, I don’t think I can handle that,” she gasped.
“If you don’t like it, I’ll stop,” he promised.
She nodded and sucked in a breath.
She was so in tune with all he was doing. Every nerve ending was electrified. She felt the delicious pressure of his fingers sliding through her swollen body. Deeper and deeper before he slowly―oh, so slowly―curved up his fingers to that magical G-spot. At the same time, he pushed in with his knuckle and sucked her clit into his mouth.
She gasped as pleasure poured through her. The fingers inside of her stroked and circled. His tongue danced against her center. She got closer and closer, so near that she started to shake. Her leg muscles trembled, her hands shook.
“Please,” she begged, tossing her head back and forth. “Please.”
The knuckle released and the intensity faded a tiny bit. He withdrew his fingers and at the same time raised his head. Her arousal rate dropped enough that she could breathe but the deep, aching need to climax didn’t fade.