That first slide of his hand up my shirt is like the best kind of anticipation. As Cash cups my breast, a groan rumbles in his throat. My nipple is definitely hardened into a point, and his thumb seeks it out, circling just the tip. I can hardly breathe as he squeezes gently. I arch my back, wanting more, needing him to grip harder, pinch my nipple, anything to show that he’s feeling as frenzied as me.
It’s as though he’s worried about going too hard too fast, and I get that. He’s used to dealing with skittish animals. He knows you need to handle uncertainty differently than confidence.
But I’m not uncertain about this now. I’m all in, headfirst, drowning in this big strong man. I’m relishing everything that he is and everything that he stands for.
“Can I look at you?” he asks, already beginning to kiss down my throat.
“Yes.” He pushes up, resting on one arm so he can use the other to shove up my shirt. I’m not wearing a bra, so there’s no barrier between my skin and his hungry eyes and no barrier when he dips and runs his tongue around my nipple before latching on and sucking.
Why does nobody ever talk about the connection between breasts and pussy? No one warned me that one suck would send heat between my legs and wetness.
“You’re so pretty,” Cash says. “So soft and sweet and…” He’s too hungry to finish his sentence. Instead, he ruffles at my shirt again, baring my other breast and giving it the same hot, wet treatment until I’m groaning and grabbing at his back. I don’t know what comes over me, but my hands give his shoulders a shove as though I want him to go lower.
I do want that, but demanding it as I do isn’t like me at all. Or maybe it is. I’ve never done this before, so I have no idea how I’m going to be.
The waistband of my yoga pants is stretchy, and Cash tugs them over my hips with expert technique. Somehow, my panties are removed at the same time, and Cash has his face between my legs before I can register what’s happening.
His lips touch the sensitive skin on the inside of my thigh first, and I almost jump out of my skin. “Easy,” Cash says, resting his huge hand on my belly, holding me steady. His nose nuzzles into the soft patch of hair I have between my legs, and I think he inhales my scent. There’s a definite rumble in his throat that I’m not sure comes from arousal or possessiveness. The way he’s holding me feels as though he’s claiming me for himself. I widen my legs, giving him more space, spreading myself open, so he has better access. My cheeks flush scarlet, knowing he’s so close to my most private place, knowing he can smell my arousal. Am I wet there? Can he see how much he’s making me feel?
His tongue finds the swollen bud of my clit and licks slowly, and I flinch with the intensity of the pleasure. “Easy,” he murmurs again. “It’ll feel good. I’ll go slow.”
And he does. So slow that I’m holding my breath, waiting for each maddeningly tentative lick, my knees quivering and hands gripping the sheets.
I didn’t know a man’s mouth could make me feel this good. I didn’t know the point of his tongue would be so skilled in building pleasure. I didn’t know that my pussy would squeeze with anticipation, wanting something to fill it. I didn’t know I’d see stars just from the warm slide of his tongue. “Oh God,” I moan, my legs snapping closed so hard that I almost take off Cash’s head in the process. The spasms between my thighs beat like a drum, everything inside me drawing up with tight pulses of deep, hot pleasure.
“That’s it,” he says. “That’s it.”
Cash’s hand never leaves my stomach, and his lips press against my thigh again, wet with my arousal. Surely, he’ll want to wash his mouth out now. I expect him to get up and disappear to the bathroom, but he doesn’t. Instead, he shifts until he’s lying next to me on the comforter, bracing on his elbow, gazing down at me with a satisfied smile.
So, now I know what I need to do to bring light to Cash’s face.
His thumb brushes my bottom lip, and instinctively my tongue darts out to taste him. The flare of fire in his dark gray eyes tells me how much he likes that. “Was that as good as it looked?” he asks.
Of course, I have to nod. There are no words to describe the pleasure he gave me. No words to articulate how glad I am that I waited for a man who knows exactly how to make me feel good.