Yogasm: A Romantic Comedy - Page 50

“What should I do?” she says in a whisper.

“Baby,” I whisper back in her ear. “This is perfect. Let me take control.”

“Think I already did that. I mean, your whole body’s pressed over me. And, uh, you spanked me a few minutes ago? Remember that?”

I gather her wrists and bring them to her sides, kissing my way down the way I’d planned. I part her knees and kiss between her thighs.

“I do. I remember. And yeah, that was the beginning of me taking control.”

“Oooh. I like how you say that.”

I bring myself back to the valley of her breasts, in silent adoration.

“Do you like that?” I ask, dragging my tongue along her breasts until I tickle a nipple.

“Yes,” she whispers. “Oh gods, yes.”

“And when I do this?” I kiss her belly while I finger between her legs, drawing circles around her clit.

“Yesssss.”

I move further down, kissing the fullness of her thighs. Worshipping a birthmark and every little freckle. “And this?” I drag the tip of my tongue to the top of her pussy, gently lapping and suckling until she’s drowning in moans and her eyes roll back in her head. “Mmmm. Oui, oui, monsieur.”

“And this?” Another stroke of my tongue.

“A-fucking-firmative.”

I tease her clit with the tip of my tongue, knead her ass with my palms, then lift her legs up and part her fully. I drop to my knees and drag her to the edge of the bed, her ass perched right at the end. Her fingers dive into my hair, grasping for purchase as I slowly work her to orgasm.

I don’t want her to hurt. I want to give her a night to remember.

“Miguel,” she moans, her hips writhing deliciously. “I’m so close.”

I nod my head, relishing the feel of her fingers gripping tighter. “Then come, baby.” Another slow drag of my tongue. “Come on my mouth.” Skin to skin, she’s on the cusp. “Just.” Lap. She shudders. “Like.” Suckle. “That.”

She comes with abandon, gripping my hair and screaming my name, and I work her through the orgasm with slow, steady strokes, easing her through it. My cock’s rock-hard, my own need for her building by the second.

“Oh, God,” she moans, her head falling back and fingers loosening their grip in my hair. “Oh, God.”

“And now, baby,” I say, crawling my way back up on the bed to lie next to her, “you’re wet and ready for me.”

Her hungry, lust-filled eyes meet mine, and without a word, we work together to take off the rest of my clothes.

I love the feel of her body, still warm and slightly trembly, pressed up against mine. Skin to skin. Pulse to pulse. I lazily drag my fingers through her hair as she reaches for my cock and gives me the gentlest trace of her finger.

“May I?”

May I, like she knows exactly how I like it. Asking permission. Letting me lead.

I nod, and her fingers wrap around me. I’m painfully hard, throbbing to her touch.

“Wow,” she says, her eyebrows shooting upward. “You’re… impressive in more ways than one, Miguel. That’s some girth, there.”

I fucking love the way she talks. I kiss the top of her head as she palms my cock and strokes me.

“Why, thank you.” I groan, unable to stop myself. “I want to be in you, baby. I want to feel your pussy hugging my cock. I’m fucking craving it like a drowning man needs air. I need to be in you.”

“Thank God,” she breathes. “Because what you did to me was delicious, but I… need more. I want you in me. I’m like literally aching to feel you in me. Crazy, huh?”

“Not crazy, baby. Fucking perfect.”

I roll over, her beneath me, and brace myself on one arm. I hold her gaze as I get a condom from the bedside table, then roll it on while she watches, her lips caught between her teeth.

“That. Is. So. Sexy.”

“What?”

“The way your Adam’s apple bobs up and down when you look at me, like you’re… I dunno, drooling for me or something. Hungry. Like you’re an animal who wants to devour every morsel of my being.”

She makes me smile. “Oh yeah? And that’s sexy to you? Doesn’t make you want to run?”

“Nope. And oh, yes, that!”

“What?”

“The way you smile, all manly lips against straight pearly whites. You could do, like, toothpaste commercials or something.”

I kiss her flushed cheek, and she runs her hand along the side of my face, a caress that hits me straight in the solar plexus. I inhale the scent of freshly cut roses.

“Samantha.”

“Yes?”

“Hush, now, baby.”

“And that,” she says, her tone softer this time, as she reaches tentative fingers to my arm and drags her fingertips slowly up and down.

“What?”

“That… dominant way you have. I like it. Not too overbearing, but… just enough. I’m like Goldilocks and you’re the bear. Not too hard. Not too soft. You’re just right.”

Tags: Jane Henry Erotic
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