“Now,” he said, his eyes so dark they were almost black, “now we begin.” He bent over her and took her mouth.Oh. Oh! He sank one hand into her hair and tilted her head to the side, his mouth slanted over hers. He kissed her as if he’d die without the touch of her lips, as if she might, too. The heat of his touch was burning her from the inside out, her desire spiraling. She moaned into him as his teeth nipped at her lower lip and when she opened for him, his tongue dipped inside her mouth. It was all Cynthia could do to hang on to the bedclothes.

He pulled on her hair, gently forcing her back onto the bed. He raised himself over her, edging her legs apart with his knee. This was it. The moment of truth. She took a deep breath.

Except it wasn’t. He sat back and grabbed a towel and stroked the thick cloth over her prone body. He abraded her nipples with it, making them tighten in a way that echoed in her pearl. In a way she didn’t understand, but she knew she needed more. Something much, much more. Like something out of a dream, sweet and perfect.

Then the towel dipped between her legs, scraping over her thighs. She shifted her legs apart even more, giving him room to work. The towel moved down, drying her knees and then her feet, and she giggled in frustration. “Cam,” she warned, and then she boldly lifted her foot out of his hand and nudged his cock with it. “Please.”

He made a deep rumbling noise, not quite a growl but not quite a moan. “So damned polite,” he practically snarled. Then he grabbed her by the hips and jerked her to the edge of the bed. The next thing she knew, he knelt between her open legs and his hands were on her cunny again, pulling her apart. Opening her for him. “Not yet, “ he said, his voice tight. “I want to make sure you’re ready.”

A strange whimpering noise filled her ears and it took a moment to realize that she was the one making that noise, desperate and needy. But before she could even feel ashamed, he lowered his mouth and pressed a kiss against her pearl.

She barely had time to gasp as the sensations overwhelmed her before he did it again. This time the stubble on his cheeks scraped over her tender flesh and she writhed underneath him, fisting her hands in the bedclothes. But it wasn’t enough. She reached for him, trying to grab hold and get him to do something, she didn’t know what. All she could do was sink her fingers into his hair and hold on.

He made a rumbling noise again, right against her skin and she moaned from the pleasure of it. She hadn’t known. She’d had no idea that this went on between men and women.

He pulled away and she whimpered, knowing it was undignified, but she was helpless to stop. He lifted her legs so they rested over his shoulders and then pulled her closer, anchoring her with one hand across her hips. His thumb came to rest on her curls and he began to burrow for her pearl.

The other hand? He reached up and took hold of her left breast, pulling on her nipple.

Cynthia shoved one hand in her mouth, trying to fight back the cries of pleasure as wave after wave of ecstasy washed over her. His thumb danced over the top of her pearl and his mouth was against her cunny, his tongue doing the most dangerously scandalous things she’d never even imagined were possible. His other hand tugged at her nipple, pulling in rhythm with his thumb and his tongue. He sucked her little pearl between his teeth, the barest pressure making her cry out again. And then he pushed his fingers into her cunny and stroked until she let out a sob that was a noise of pure relief.

Her body was no longer in her control. She was shaking and moaning and crying out, on the edge of something important, something vital to her very survival.

This was being properly ruined.

Then it broke over her, that wave of pleasure, and her back came off the bed, her fingers pulling hard on Cam’s hair. For a beautiful moment frozen in time, she was nothing but satisfaction and heat, light and happiness.

Then she fell back, shaking, breathing hard. Cam nipped at the delicate skin on her inner thigh and she managed to lift her head to find him staring at her with his dark eyes. The need she saw there was so fierce it took her breath away.

“The sweetest honey,” he murmured, pressing another kiss against her pearl before surging to his feet. Needing Him – Jeanne St. James

Buy Links : Amazon | £0.78/$1.01 The heat of his body touches me, along my legs, my ass. He’s right behind me, close. My heart pounds faster as I now think I’m going to finally get what I want, what I need.

When he strokes my back with his long fingers, I sigh. His touch is soothing but stimulating at the same time. My nipples long for those fingers, my pussy clenches for his cock. He continues to brush his fingers along my skin, down my spine, over my ass cheeks, up the cleft of my body, only lightly brushing my labia, my anus, as he moves up all the way to the back of my neck. Then he snags a handful of my hair and pulls my head back, bowing my neck. He leans over me as he sucks on the skin at the side of my throat. His teeth rake gently against my flesh, his erection presses against my slick, plump lips. Just a shift…

A shift and he’ll be inside me. I’m tempted to push and press to encourage, but again… I want to obey and he has not given me permission… yet.

Not yet.

So, I remain in place, I remain where he wants me as he tugs on my hair, traces the curve of my ear with his tongue, back down my neck, down the center of my spine, until he reaches the cleft of my ass again. He doesn’t stop there.

With a shock, he circles my tight rim with his tongue, flicks, teases me there and I can’t help but groan. My former encounters have been boring, nothing like this.

I have never had any man approach me there.

Not there.

But, the more he licks and kisses, and prods, the more I relax, appreciating his skill. Until he releases my hair abruptly and separates my ass cheeks, and I hear him make a noise. One of appreciation.

“Beautiful,” he whispers.

He makes me feel just that. Beautiful. Even in this vulnerable position.

He’s right about intimacy and communication.

His words make me trust him, make me open to him. His touches, as well.

“Do not move your hands. Separate your knees a little more. Not too much. That’s it. Right there.”

And then he’s quiet… because his mouth is against my mound, pressing against my clit, his tongue plays with me, circling, flicking, stroking my sensitive nub. I struggle to remain still. To keep my hands and knees in place.

I want to drop to my back, grab his head and hold him in place as he eats me until I come. With or without his permission.

But I don’t. I play his game.

I wait.

His tongue, his mouth, then his fingers, draw me to the edge. I’m close to coming and I can’t. Not yet. I haven’t been told to come yet.

I hope it’s soon.

My nipples are hard and aching, my anus clenches, almost in need, and my pussy throbs as he tastes all of me, savors it, savors me.

He groans against my swollen flesh and the vibrations make me whimper. I bite my lip to contain it.

I’m on the edge of orgasm but he hasn’t told me to let go yet and I struggle to convince my body to behave. To wait.

“Not yet,” he says, as if he can read my mind. But he can’t, he’s probably just reading me, my body. “Soon, but not yet.”

He shifts and reaches for the items on the nightstand. Within seconds, I feel the cool gel of the lube against my heated flesh. It dribbles down the crack of my ass, and with his thumb, he massages it around the rim. More drips, more circles made. And then pressure.

Not his mouth this time. No. A finger, long, strong, determined to take my virgin ass.

Slowly, he works the digit to the first knuckle, past the tight ring. Then the second knuckle and I’m blown away by a sensation I’ve never felt before. One I never thought I’d ever want or need.

But I want this. I need this. It’s like this man knows everything I need. Everything I crave.

Then he’s moving inside me with a rhythm that could very well drive me mad. And when he buries his mouth against me again, sucking my flesh between his lips, his teeth, I almost scream “pineapple.” Because I can’t take any more and not climax.

His torture is not allowing me to come. And I can’t ask him, I can’t beg.

I’m not allowed.

He must allow it.

I need him to say it.

But his mouth is full of my sex, my sensitive flesh, and he’s not saying anything.

I want to give up.

I want to scream for mercy.

“You may come,” he says so softly that I almost think I imagine it. And when his mouth finds me again and now two of his fingers fuck my ass, I no longer care if I’d imagined it.

I let go.

My mind spins. My body convulses.

I clench around his fingers and a sound I’ve never heard before escapes me.

A wail. A cry of release.

And before the last of the orgasm ebbs away, he’s inside me. Taking me hard, deep, and rough, slamming his hips against my ass. The slapping of our skin, our ragged breathing, and sounds of ecstasy filling the small cabin.

With one hand still working deep in my tight canal, his other grabs my hair again, pulling my head back roughly until my neck can bend no more.

“That’s it, Grace. Ride my cock. Feel me deep inside you. That pussy’s mine. That ass is mine. Your mouth will soon be mine, too. You do not come until I tell you to. Tell me you hear me.”

“Yes, Nick. Yes, I hear you.”

“You fit me perfectly. Like you were made for me. Were you made for me, Grace?”

“Yes. Only for you.”

“Who do you belong to?”

No hesitation. “You, Nick. I belong to you.”

“Do you want to come?”

“Yes,” I hiss. Because it’s true, even though I just came, I’m ready to come again. His words, his smooth like butter voice, turn me on like nothing ever before.

It’s insane. But I love it.

This is how I’m meant to be fucked. I’m not meant to be pushed off the cliff, I’m meant to be thrown.

“Are you ready to come again?”

“Yes,” I force myself to say, because thoughts are difficult, words even more so.

“When I say ‘now,’ you will come.”

His fingers curl inside me, stroking, and his cock slams me even harder, deeper until there’s nowhere else for it to go.

He tenses, his body hiccups. Then he groans, “Now,” and I fall with him. Over the edge, into an endless space below. I can’t tell who is throbbing. Him, me, both of us.

I only know one thing…

This was the man I was made for.

Him. And only him.
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