I loved it, being splayed out on his lap in my bra and panties, his hot, wet mouth doing incredible things to my neck and ear while his questing fingers worked beneath the lace of my bra, peeling back the cups and baring my flesh to the air conditioning. Although it wasn’t the cool air from the vents that had my nipples pebbled and tight, but the big, calloused fingers plucking at them, stroking them like I was his instrument, like he was going to torment me to orgasm. I was already looking forward to every second. Him teasing me, playing with me, holding me like this was easily the hottest thing that ever happened to me. I could hardly believe we were here, together in his bed in stages of undress, that I was allowed to touch him, that Max was touching me, savoring me like I was the most delicious meal of his life.
I could feel the prod of his huge erection against the curve of my butt, and I ground back on it a little. He groaned and slid the hand on my belly lower, dipping his fingers into my panties. My tender, damp flesh almost wept for him, for the anticipation of his touch. I grew even wetter with every centimeter his fingertips trailed southward. I wasn’t sure I could control myself, the wild desire ripping through me A jolt of fear hit me—knowing I was in his hands, vulnerable, that I’d give him everything, and that he might break my heart as a way to return the favor.
I couldn’t worry about that, about anything when a sheen of sweat coated me from the exertion of holding onto him, reaching back for him, twisting in his lap to kiss him. Finally, his whole hand was inside my panties, stretching the lace in a lewd shape. I could make out his knuckles and his individual fingers when I looked down at the distended fabric. It turned me on even more to see Max’s fingers buried in my panties, about to be buried in my pussy. I shuddered at the thought and tipped my head back to whisper to him over my shoulder.
“Please, Max,” I gasped.
“Please what?” he teased me.
“Please put your fingers in me, touch me, feel what you’re doing to me. I’m so wet. I’ve never been so wet,” I babbled urgently.
“Not even when I kissed you at your apartment? When I grabbed your arms and held you there while I tasted you? I couldn’t last another second. You have to know that. I needed you so much I would’ve lost my mind. Only that made it worse, kissing you that way. Once I’d kissed you, I was lost. There was no putting it aside, forgetting about it. No getting you out of my system. My need for you, Rachel, it would terrify you if you knew.”
“It wouldn’t scare me. I feel it, too. Like I could never have enough of you. I’ve thought the—dirtiest things about you, about us. It’s not like me, to even think that way. But after you kissed me I—I was in the shower with nothing but thoughts of you and a massaging showerhead.”
“So what did I do in that fantasy? Did I finger you?” He dipped a long, rough finger into my wet sex, parting those sensitive folds. “Did I go down on you? Eat you out until you were screaming and weeping? Or did I drive my cock into you as if we’d both go mad before we found satisfaction? Tell me,” he punctuated his words with such twisting and stroking of his finger, such a sharp stretching of the invasion of another finger that I rolled my hips, trying to accept it, trying to let the sting pass. He fondled me, gentled me with soft passes of his thumb over my clit. He petted me, tender and lush.
His every touch made me quiver at the wicked knowledge that he knew exactly what he was doing. That he was the one who’d chosen to finger me first, to stretch me, to ready me for his big cock. I couldn’t imagine taking anything bigger than his two fingers, but before I knew it I was clenching on them, riding them, bucking my hips up off his lap as he twisted his wrist and touched a place inside me that made me wild and free. I climaxed, biting my lip with a whimper. He brushed his fingers along my jaw, turned my face so I looked back at him. He kissed my lips, softly even as I came apart in his hands, so romantically, so gently that I was afraid I’d start crying.
As it was, I twisted away from his questing fingers and turned, flung my arms around him. I hid my face in his shoulder, a little embarrassed, a little shy, and hugged him. His arms came around me and held me. It felt so nice to be held, to be cradled against that big, strong chest. I felt that nothing could ever hurt me as long as I stayed in his arms. I felt safe and sound and cherished. I felt the snag of his beard against my hair as he kissed my head.