“That’s what you think,” he said, as he drew his hand up between her thighs, delicately but deliberately, and the vulnerable skin there shivered with pleasure and anticipation as his fingers dipped into where she was wet.
“Gabe,” she rasped. “Dear God.”
“You’re going to want to begmein a second...” he murmured.
He did it again, but no one begged anyone. Suddenly it was too serious.
They got the condom on him in seconds, and she rose up so he could guide her down onto his cock. Glorious.
He sighed, muttered an oath of pleasure.
She closed her eyes, savoring the feel of him inside her.
She rose up, his hands sliding over her butt. Slowly, they moved, at first, and he began murmuring, the low velvet of his voice nearly as erotic as a stroking hand. “Yes,” he sighed. “God. Picture it... we’re fully dressed... we have hours and hours and hours... I’m undressing you slowly... button by button.”
He was trailing hot kisses over her throat as he said that, and the “b”s made little puffs of air. Surprisingly erotic.
“Yes,” she urged, on a groan.
“You areachingfor it, begging... so I make you wait.”
He arched up into her, but she kept it slow, torturously, blissfully slow.
She closed her eyes, drunk with sensation, and tipped her head so he could reach her ear with his tongue and send those quicksilver shimmers of sensation fanning out to the nether reaches of her body. “More,” she demanded breathlessly. “Tell me more...”
She rose, slowly, her nipples chafing against his chest, maddening both of them.
“...and then I’m peeling your clothes away slowly like... like you’re a... you’re a... delicious fruit...”
He dragged his fingers delicately over the seam of her butt. Oh wow. Oh lovely shivering nuance of pleasure.
“Afruit?” she whispered hoarsely.
“Forgive me... I’m not... Omar Khayyam...”
Pizzawould have worked as well as fruit.
The fact that he knew Omar Khayyam well enough to reference him during sex was nearly as hot as his tongue in her ear.
“And then...” she urged breathlessly. Rising up. Sliding down. Filling herself deeply with him. Watching herself in his eyes. Lingering at the tip of his cock. Teasing him. Teasing them both. Sinking down again.
“And then... I just... I just... Oh God. Oh God... Eden...”
Their rhythm was almost wave-like now. Languid, steady, maddening each of them. Eden rose along his lift and plunge, her breath mingling with his. She could watch his gaze go black. The cords of his neck go taut.
“...and then...” she all but whimpered. When it came, this orgasm might just kill her with its intensity.
“I lay you out flat... savor you with my eyes... because damn you’re so hot...” His words were a staccato rhythm against her collarbone, against her lips, against her nipple, as she rose and sank onto him, the blood pounding in her ear... “I lick every part of you... every hollow... every sexy angle... I take my, sweet... sweettime...”
“Yes...”she moaned. “Yes. Time...”
This was what her life had come to: the notion of great expanses of time was basically their version of dirty talk.
“And you are just writhing... moaning from... the licking...” He was losing the thread.
His face was sheened in sweat.
He seized her hips and urged her faster. “Eden, baby, I can’t... I’m going to... I need you to...”