He kisses his way lower, until his beard grazes the top of my mound. I gasp, and he grins up at me, unrepentant. “Yes,” he says, his voice a command. “More of that.” Then he flicks his tongue over my clit, expertly, because God knows he’s always been able to find it more easily than any other man I’ve ever slept with.
I arch up off the bed, and he takes advantage of the motion, sliding both hands underneath me to grip my ass tightly in his fists.
He licks my inner thigh, from just above my knee, all the way up to the crease where my leg meets my hip. Then, before I can twist and press my hip closer to his face, he pulls back, licking up the other leg the same way. Slow. Torturously so.
“Dammit, Lark,” I murmur, my head drifting back toward the pillow.
“Did you expect me not to tease you into oblivion tonight?” He clicks his tongue, smirking. “You know me better than that by now, Cassidy.”
When he dips again, he spreads both my legs with firm, strong hands. Then he traces his tongue along the outer lips of my pussy, slow, savoring.
“I always forget how incredible you taste,” he murmurs, just before he parts my pussy lips with two rough fingertips, and presses his tongue between, lapping at me, tracing the tip of his tongue around and around my entrance.
My groan turns into a moan, and I twist against the sheets, my hips bucking toward his face.
He lets me, and I wrap both thighs around his face, pressing myself up against him, so I can feel the brush of his beard against my inner thighs, rough, almost tickling, in comparison to that fucking tongue of his.
The tongue that he’s pressing deep into my folds now, lapping back and forth along the length of my slit.
“Louder,” he orders, but he doesn’t need to tell me twice. He pushes the tip of his tongue inside me, and I moan loud enough that I’m surprised my downstairs neighbors don’t pound on the floorboards. Then he swirls that tongue inside me, and I buck and twist, before I settle into a rocking motion, arching up off the bed and against his face as he pushes his tongue further into me, until his lips are pressed against my pussy lips, his tongue deep inside me, curled and stroking along my inner walls.
He hits my G-spot, and my breath hitches. I’m saying something, begging him to keep going, but I can hardly even process my own voice through the fog of pleasure in my brain.
Just when I’m at the edge though, right on the brink of orgasm, he pulls his tongue out of me. I groan in protest. “Lark,” I start, but he’s already over me, naked too, and when did he lose his pants? Normally I love that part. Watching him slowly strip, until his cock is bare before me, thick and throbbing and ready for me.
Just like he is now.
He positions himself at my entrance with a sly look. “I need to fuck you now, Cassidy. I cannot wait another fucking second,” he says. He pushes into me, a slow, smooth motion that makes my moans turn into faint little cries of pleasure.
The way he stretches me, fills me… I’ve never felt like this before. As if I’m so completely full, all the way up.
He lies down along me, and I know I’m sticky with sweat, but so is he, the mingled scent of our bodies and our sex filling the room as he grips my hips, his lips colliding with mine, his tongue parting my lips so that I taste my own juices on his mouth.
When he draws back, it’s only to lock gazes with me, his intent and intense as ever. “I’ve missed this,” he breathes, which throws me for a second, because haven’t we been doing it all night?
But then he’s pulling out, thrusting back into me, and I lose track of our conversation of words.
At some point he must have untied my hands, because I have use of them again. I wrap them around his strong torso, my legs around his hips, and I pull him down against me, thrusting my hips up against his to drive his cock deeper with every thrust.
He starts to move faster, harder. Losing all control. I love this part, watching him lose it.
“God.” He runs a hand through my hair, then grabs a fistful and pulls my head to the side, bending to bite at my neck gently, before he kisses it, alternately biting, kissing, until I know he’s going to leave a mark. He pulls back just far enough to laugh faintly, his breath ghosting over the heated skin he just bruised. “I wanted to make sure you’d remember this,” he says.