Page 54 of Quiet Beautiful Things

Instead of answering, I go for the button of his pants. He seems to like this reaction better anyway. What man wouldn’t? He rolls to the side as I push his jeans down to his ankles. Then he toes off his shoes and wriggles them off completely.

He takes off my pants next. But not as quickly as I did his. No, it seems Blake Montana likes to see his women squirm. He slides them down slowly with his hands, his lips following the same route, stopping to kiss my bare thighs, the inside of a knee, my ankle. He discards my shoes and pants on top of his. Then he stares at my underwear. My plain, black, bikini undies that are surely drenched through.

Locking eyes with me, he touches the singular article of clothing, asking permission before taking it off. I nod. Of course I nod. Hell, at this point, I’dbeghim to do it if he weren’t already asking.

My panties come off far quicker than my jeans. I’m fully naked beneath his gaze. He stares. He stareseverywhere. I’mfairly light-skinned, though I’m sure my entire body has turned a shade of red under his perusal. After what seems like forever, but has probably only been seconds, he looks up. “Show me perfect,” he signs, fingerspelling the last word.

I show him. He devours my body with his eyes once again then signs, “Perfect.”

Thump.My heart stops then restarts.

In an instant, I’m all too aware that I’m the only one naked. Not even asking for permission, I reach for his boxer briefs. In my haste to remove them, they get caught on his erection. I cringe hoping I didn’t hurt him. But based on the way he’s looking at me, I’d guess either I didn’t, or he couldn’t care less that I did.

Both fully naked now, I expect him to just hop on and get it over with. After all, that’s what always happened in high school when the clothes came off. Heck, the clothes didn’t all necessarily even come off back then, just enough to allow Tab A to go into Slot B.

He surprises me by not going right for it. Instead, he leans down and feasts hungrily on my breasts. He slips a hand between us and explores the apex of my thighs. He finds my opening, and I feel vibrations coming from his chest when he runs a hand through my wetness. Then he touches my clit, and…holy god… I almost come apart beneath him here and now.

It’s not as if a guy has never touched me there. Most of them did, but only in passing on their way to Slot B. It’s as if they didn’t know the clitoris was the way to a woman’s orgasm. Or maybe they just didn’t care.

Blake, however, is taking his sweet time getting his fill of it. His thumb runs circles around it. His fingers draw up my arousal, making my clit slick and easier to manipulate. With his every ministration, I feel myself building higher and higher.

I’m reeling over how different this is from my other sexual experiences. What’s happening now is like what I’ve seen in movies. Read about in books. It’s everything I’d hoped sex was about, but doubted it existed. I suppose I was silly to think all of that was over-exaggeration. That all men were selfish and only after their own gratification.

In an attempt formenot to appear selfish, I reach for him. I’m no stranger to hand jobs. I gave a lot of them in my teenage years. Even prided myself on how good I was at it. Then again, I was handling sixteen-and-seventeen-year-old dicks. A light breeze could have gotten them off.

Deeper vibrations come from within him, making me smile. Perhaps I can give as well as I can get.

Stroking him is different than the others. He’s a man. A strong, confident, competent man. Not a kid just looking to get his rocks off. Then again, who’s to say Blake isn’t just a strong, confident, competent man looking to gethisrocks off?

At this point, though, I’m way too far along to care.

He stops what he’s doing to me and pulls my hand away.

Okay then, maybe Idon’tknow how to do this properly.

He says something I don’t quite pick up.

He reaches for his phone that he left beside the pillow, wipes his other hand off on the sheets, and sends a text.

Blake: El, if you keep touching me, I’m going to come, and this will all be over in a matter of seconds. If this is heading where I think it is, the only place I want to come is buried deep inside of you.

While I read his text, he gets a condom from his wallet and puts it on the bed next to him.

His penis is erect and engorged. And…sigh… completely incredible.

I toss my phone aside and crack a smile. I expect him to go for the condom, but he leaves it untouched, instead, kissing his way down my body. His lips move from my neck to my breasts and down across my stomach. I shiver in anticipation of him doing to me what no man has ever done. He’s entering uncharted territory here. Beth has told me about it. She says it’s amazing and the only way she can orgasm with a man.

Thoughts race through my mind. What will he get out of it? How will I taste? Did I wash myself well enough? What if Idon’tcome?

But all thoughts cease when his tongue darts around my clit.

Oh. My. God.

If I thought his fingers on me were divine, this is—

Wow, I have a PhD, yet I can’t even think of any words to describe this.

As his tongue works on my clit, his fingers slip inside me. In and out. In and out. He crooks them and I feel myself croon, hum, sing, or…something. These are new vibrations coming from within. Something I’ve never felt before. Whatever sounds I make simply drive him to work harder.

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