“Fuck.” he whispers, grabbing them in his hands and kissing them both, sucking on my nipples with such passion that I’m falling away from my body. I grasp him for support, pulling off his jacket in the process. He slides out from under me and pulls his sweater off to reveal his bare chest. His muscles ripple in the moonlight, and the chain around his neck bounces as he struggles with the buckle on my jumpsuit. I help him undo it, let him slip it off me, and he drops back down over me.
“For the number of women you have sex with, I’d think you were a pro at all different types of belts.”
He breathes a laugh through his nose at my jest.
“None of them are even close to as fashionable as you, Stell.” His lips are hovering above mine as he talks, eyes focused on the details of me that I rarely look close enough to see. I'm captivated by these eyes. Greener than any others I've seen, more intense than an unforgiving current, yet there’s something so purely human in their depths.
It’s a familiar feeling, like coming home. It scares me. So I grab the back of his neck and pull him closer, forgetting myself in the moment. His lips fit perfectly in mine, and I'm flooded with pleasure as we continue to collide.
We shouldn't be doing this. I know. I am completely aware of the issue we are creating, but the burning lust inside me will not easily be satisfied. It can only be met by him. By his powerful ability to perfectly satisfy my needs. His lips collide with mine again, and I undo the zipper on his jeans with fixed purpose. His hands caress my breasts before cupping them firmly. He slides his jeans off as we continue to explore each other's bodies with our longing hands.
His abs are incredible. They ripple along a perfect track, side by side, up and down, meeting at the V of his hips. I’m sure you have to have like two percent body fat to maintain such glory. I run my fingers down them, bouncing over their tight mountains and valleys.
I grab his waist when he’s hovering too high above me and when I can't take it anymore. In response, he firmly grabs my ass as I wrap my legs around his waist, and he grinds himself into me, his boxers and my panties all that’s between us, a separation I don’t want anymore. I grab the edge of them, shoving them down his perfect ass, over his muscled thighs, and Antonio agreeably kicks them away as he leans down, kissing my neck and breasts again.
“I’ve wanted to taste you since the night we came home from that club, and you made out with me in the hall,” he groans against my skin, dragging his lips down over my flat stomach. “I don’t think I can wait any longer to eat you out, Stell.”
What the fuck?His words send a ripple of desire through me. He sounds hungry, eager, like he wants it, like he’s not just saying what I want to hear. When he takes the strap of my thong in his teeth, dragging it down my hip, I think I’m going to spontaneously combust.
“Antoni–”
“Shh.” He rolls his eyes upwards as he literally takes my panties off with his teeth, his green eyes shining in the darkness, the chain against his tanned skin glittering. “Come on my tongue, Stella, and then I’ll fuck you like you’ve been begging me to.”
“I haven’t–ah!” The first swipe of his tongue steals every word I could possibly think of, delving between my sensitive folds and making me cry out with pleasure as he licks me from my entrance all the way up to my clit, circling it with his soft, wet tongue until I feel like I’m going to come apart at the seams with pleasure.
I fucking love being eaten out, but so often, men don’t want to or don’t fucking know how. Antonio knows how. Just like when he fingered me on the kitchen floor, it’s like he knows what my body wants without my having to tell him, exactly how my pussy likes to be teased, the pressure and rhythm on my clit that has me on the edge of orgasm faster than I thought possible.
He eats me like he’s starving, groaning against my pussy as he laps up my arousal. “Fuck, Stella, you taste incredible,” he murmurs, his lips fastening around my clit as he sucks it into his mouth, and I see stars.
Literally, because they’re above me, but also figuratively. I let out a high-pitched moan that’s nearly a whine, my thighs tightening around his head as I arch upwards, grinding on his tongue as the orgasm crashes over me. He doesn’t stop, his tongue licking me through the climax until I feel like I’m going to lose my mind with pleasure, bucking and writhing against his face, and the harder I come, the more determined he seems to be to keep going.
I lose track of where the first one ends and the second begins, like waves crashing over me as he keeps licking and sucking my oversensitive clit, until I slap at his shoulder, too breathless with pleasure to tell him that it’s too much.
He tears his mouth away from me, looking up with an expression in his eyes that I can’t quite read. He pulls me upwards so that I’m straddling his lap, his hand going around the back of my neck as his mouth crashes down onto mine again.
I can taste myself on his lips, and somehow it only arouses me more. I can feel his cock sliding between my folds, and I reach down, wanting to touch him, stroke him, give him the same pleasure he gave me, and more.
“No.” He whispers when he realizes where my hands are.
“Why?” I whisper against his mouth, my hand finding its way to his cock anyway. He groans aloud as I start to stroke his thick, throbbing length, the head of it pushed up against my clit and sending jolts of pleasure through me with every rock of his hips. “I could make you come like this,” I whisper daringly. “But I’d rather you come inside of me.”
He looks into my eyes, and I can see the same need reflected there. “Please,” I whisper.
There’s hesitation, something I don't quite understand. It’s not what I'd expect from a playboy. All I’m asking is he fuck me.
I let go reluctantly, but at the same moment, he grabs my waist, rolling onto his back and pulling me astride him, his cock still nudging against my pussy. He rocks against me, his eyes fluttering closed as he groans.
“It doesn't mean anything.'' He presents his statement as a question, and I affirm him.
“Nothing.” And a breath escapes his mouth as he lays me on my back, grabbing my wrists and pressing them to the roof above my head.
“Do everything I say,” he whispers.
I nod breathlessly. “Okay,” I whisper as he tumbles us over again.
“Touch yourself,” he whispers, and I reach down dazedly, stroking my fingers across my slick, pulsating clit, still intensely sensitive from the orgasms he gave me with his tongue. He pushes my thighs wider, watching me as he slowly strokes his cock. The heat burning in my belly only intensifies at the sight of Antonio’s strong hand sliding up and down his veined, throbbing length.
Somehow even touching myself feels better with him watching. My pleasure builds, quick and fast, and he strokes faster too, matching my rhythm–but I don’t want us to come like this. I want him inside of me, to come on his cock, to feel him thrusting inside me as he orgasms.