Page 12 of When it Sizzles

“We can keep going,” I say, rocking into his touch. “I’m on the pill and I have a condom in my purse.”

“Tomorrow. I just want to know you’re sure, and then I’ll do whatever you want me to do to you, beautiful,” he promises, kissing me hard and deep, as he continues to move his fingers inside me, deeper, harder, until I’m trembling and clinging to his shoulders.

“This doesn’t feel like stopping,” I breathe. “Not that I’m complaining but?—”

“I just want to make you come first,” he says, hunger in his voice again. “I want to feel you coming all over my fingers, Wendy Ann. I want to hear the sounds you make when you lose control.”

“I don’t think…” I gasp, nails digging into his muscles as his thumb begins to circle my clit in time with his thrusts. “I don’t think I m-make sounds.”

“No?” he asks, kissing a searing trail down my throat. “You don’t think?”

“I never have before,” I say, the words ending in a moan as his mouth locks around my nipple. “Oh God. That feels…”

“Good?” he asks as he kisses his way over to my other breast.

“So good,” I pant, my hands flitting from his face to his shoulders to his strong chest, not sure where to land.

“That was a sound, by the way,” he says, flicking his tongue over my sensitized skin, summoning a soft choked noise from the back of my throat. “And there was another.”

“Trying to make me sing?” I ask, the feeble attempt at a joke ending in a whimper as he adds a second finger and the tension rising inside becomes a storm rushing toward shore.

“To make you scream,” he whispers, and then, with just a few more talented thrusts of his hand, he does.

I come clawing at his skin and crying out his name, writhing beneath him like a wild creature totally in tune with her body, her pleasure. The waves wrench on and on, clenching and releasing, vibrating into every cell until I’m boneless and spent.

Afterward, I lie beneath him, catching my breath, as he presses a soft kiss to my forehead that warms me all over again.

“I’m not a brain in a jar, after all,” I murmur, making him exhale a soft laugh as he pulls back, gazing down at me in the semi-darkness.

“A brain in a jar?”

“That’s what my sister calls me,” I tell him. “Binx says I’m a brain in a jar, divorced from feelings and sensation.”

He frowns. “That’s…unkind.”

I give a weary shake of my head, amazed that even my always-tight neck feels loose and relaxed. “No, it’s not. She says it with love.” I lift a shoulder and let it fall. “And besides, it’s true. Or…it was true.” I let my fingers glide up his shoulders to loop around his neck. “That was amazing.”

He smiles. “It was my pleasure. You’re beautiful when you’re coming for me.”

I nibble my bottom lip, suddenly shy, but also…determined. Because I bet he’ll be beautiful when he’s coming for me, too.

I reach down, letting one hand curl around the hard, molten length of him. The skin covering his erection is velvety soft and delightful against my fingertips, but not nearly as delightful as the thought of him losing control because of me.

Because of the way I make him ache and burn…

“You don’t have to,” he whispers, but his breath is already coming faster and the fond look in his eyes is growing hungry again.

“I know, I don’t,” I whisper back. “I want to.” I tighten my grip a little, giving his length an experimental stroke from base to tip. “I want to hear your sounds.”

He emits a soft groan. “Your touch feels so good.”

“Good?” I ask, studying his handsome face as I stroke him again. “I want to give you more than good. Show me how to make it great?”

“I don’t have to show you, you?—”

“Yes, you do,” I cut in. “I’m a late bloomer, remember?”

His eyes widen slightly. “You’ve never done this, either?”

---