“You know, I’m always more than willing to release any … tension you may have, and darlin’, batteries are not required. I’m at your service,” I whisper softly as I reach around her waist and flick open the first button of her shirt. My lips trace the outline of her ear as her chest heaves with ragged breaths. “Just say the word, Celia, and this stops.”
When her head drops back to my shoulder, and she buries her face in my neck, I take that as my green light and keep on flicking shirt buttons. When the final button breaks free, red fabric falls to the side to reveal the perfection that is Celia—milky, white skin and black lace.
Holy fuck, she’s even more gorgeous than I imagined.
I lightly run my fingers over her stomach, dipping slightly in the curve of her belly button. Her skin is velvety soft, quivering faintly as my calloused fingers make contact. The span of my hands easily takes up her entire torso, so I meet the edge of her bra in no time. I see those tight nipples straining, hard points pushing against black lace. They’ve got nothing on my dick—I swear I’m hard enough to chop wood with the fucking thing. I’m pretty sure I’ve left a permanent indentation in her ass.
As my hands lightly brush her nipples, I feel the pressure of her teeth on my neck, and her tongue follows closely behind. Each stroke of her tongue is a flame on my skin, setting me on fire over and over. I curl my fingers under the black lace and tug, pushing her bra underneath those gorgeous tits, leaving them just how I like it—pushed up and on full display.
I circle each of her nipples at a tortuous pace—so slow, so gentle. “Do you want me ... here?” I ask as I grab her tits in earnest and tweak her nipples.
She moans in response, lifting one of her arms and grasping behind my neck. “Yes, yes,” she whispers with each breath, her ass writhing in my lap.
I shift my head to crash into her panting lips—a tangle of tongues, teeth, and bated breaths. The sliding of our tongues, the push of her hips, the rise and fall of her chest as I tease her nipples into stiffened peaks; they all contribute to a rhythm that will likely be the death of me.
I release her nipples, which earns me a whimper, and slide my hands down the curve of her waist and over the crinkly fabric of her skirt. When I hit her thighs, I start my ascent into the promise land. The fingernails digging into the back of my neck and the slight shiver running through her body tells me she approves. When I hit the seam of her panties, which takes a while, because they are indeed thongs (Hell yes!), I swat her hip playfully.
“Up. Lift that gorgeous ass for me.” As she leaves my lap, I could cry at the loss. “Good girl.”
As she rises up, I ever so slowly slide her skirt and panties down, taking the opportunity to place each of her legs on the outside of mine. When her panties fall to the floor, I spread my legs apart, taking hers with me. Just the way I want her; open and ready for me. I pull my lips away from hers as I raise her other arm behind my neck and look into her hooded blue eyes.
“Hands stay here, or I stop. Understand?” My mouth brushes against hers as I speak, and her lips reach for me, but I back away each time, needing the words.
“Yes, I-I understand,” she whispers, and only then do I grab her bottom lip and suck.
Honestly, I don’t usually play with so many rules. I like to swing by the seat of my pants, or lack thereof, as the case may be. I like a woman to do what she feels in the moment. But, in this case, without much provocation on her part, Celia will end up feeling a giant wet spot on her ass. I don’t intend on earning the nickname Quick Draw Cain today. Not on my watch.
Before I begin, I make a show of pulling away from her lips to lick my fingers, and she watches every movement, mesmerized and slack-jawed. One hand stops at her tits while the other continues the journey down … way down. I slide a finger through her slit and find her wet and ready.
“Oh, ooooh,” she moans into my mouth, her forehead falling to mine. “Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”
“I’m thinking you should tell Marlo you don’t need a Duke. I’m thinking a country boy might do the trick, don’t you?”
“Mmmmhmmmm,” she half-whispers, half-moans, as my hand lightly brushes over her, just barely making contact. Her lashes flutter, and her eyes roll back as I brush across her clit.
And then I start the slow torture, both hands sliding up and down her body—tweaking, brushing, teasing, but never enough contact to satisfy. I caress the underside of her breasts before pinching those hard nipples. I run my hands down to her knees and slowly up the inside of her thighs. I sweep the tips of my fingers through her drenched and ready lips as she cries out.
And then I start the process over again. And again. And then again.
Her body is writhing on top of mine, pushing into my hands, craving more—more touch, more sensation, more me. And I fucking love it.
“Please,” she whispers in between driving her tongue into my mouth and gasping. “Please … I need…”
“What do you need, darlin’? Do you want my fingers inside of you?” I ask, reveling in the sight of her teetering on the edge. She only needs a gentle flick from me to fall over.
“No,” she cries between gasps. “No.”
“You don’t want me to make you come?”
“No, I want you,” she says, and she grinds her ass into my cock.
Aw, hell! Pig shit. Butt boils. Fried bull testicles. Fuck, it’s not even working!
“Not today, Celia. You’re not ready for my cock quite yet,” I say with a strained voice and a dick that’s crying out in agony, seconds away from disowning my stupid ass.
I lick her lower lip and trail kisses and licks down her neck as my hands move down her body and then up her thighs. As my hand grazes over her center, I slap her clit with enough force to sting and sink my teeth into her neck, making her cry out as she takes the leap. My fingers plunge inside her contracting pussy, coaxing her body to ride her orgasm to completion.
When her body relaxes and she falls back into my chest in complete exhaustion, I close my legs and turn her body around, cradling her like a baby. She rests her head on my shoulder and sighs with a contented smile playing on her lips. I can’t help it; I feel like the master of the universe.
“Did everything I do feel good to you?” I ask as I brush her hair out of her face, behind her ear, and gently kiss her forehead.
“Mmmhmm,” she mumbles sleepily.
I gently slide her off my lap and sit her on the couch. I kneel on the floor between her legs, fixing her bra, buttoning each shirt button, and searching for her panties and skirt on the floor.
“Up,” I say as I pull them both up her legs, and she lifts her ass so I can slide them back on. I stay close, face to face, eye to eye. I want her to hear, understand, and take in every word I say. “There is nothing in this world I want more than to be buried deep inside you. Not. One. Thing. But when I take you, I want to know I’m all you see. No memories, no regrets, no one but you and me. I want you to be all mine, Celia, and when you can do that, that’s when you get all of me. Okay?”
Her eyes fill with tears, and she nods slowly. “All right,” she whispers as she breaks eye contact and stares into her lap. It breaks my heart to end things on a sad note, and I refuse to leave her feeling weepy.
I tap my finger under her chin and nudge her face upward. I wink and get a watery smile in return. “I’m no duke, Celia Lemaire, but let me tell you one thing,” I say as I kiss her nose lightly. “I’m your ass-slapping, clit-tapping, wet dream, and damn it, one of these days you’re gonna fall in love with me.”
And with those parting words, I stand up and walk through the living room and out the front door with a singular destination in mind. I hear her giggling behind me, and I know I’ve done my job. I chance once last look at my fairy before I close the door, skin flushed from head to toe, feet dangling awkwardly, and her finger touching her lips in wonder.