Page 39 of When We Were Younger

I sit up, stealing her lips as I flip her on her back. I fuss with the blankets as I crawl over her, arranging them so we're shielded from the cold air. I take and take from her lips. Our tongues tangle like a freestyle dance that we somehow know every step to. I drop my hips to hers and drag my erection over her center. She parts her legs, giving me room to drop in between them. I push against her, seeking and creating friction between our hips. She whimpers and bites my lip, rocking up in time with my thrusts, fucking me through our clothes. I drag my lips off her mouth to her jaw, kissing and nibbling my way down to the hollow of her throat. My hand skates around the hem of her shirt, teasing the bare plane of skin.

"Please," she whines, arching up into me. I slide my hand further up her belly to the underside of her breast.She's not wearing a bra, and I have to count from ten in my head to calm myself down. It's been far too long since I've felt the weight of her tits in my palms, and I'm risking a mess in my pants if I make any sudden movements.

When I get to zero, I slowly slide my hand up and cup her breast–the right one, funnily enough. I give her a light squeeze as I brush my thumb over her nipple. Her pants turn into gasps as I circle the pointed tip, then pinch. Not hard, but enough to earn a deliciously obscene groan from low in her throat.

"Stephen," she moans.

"Dorothea," I murmur as I lower my lips and suck her nipple into my mouth through the cotton of her t-shirt. Her sounds are a symphony of carnal pleasure as I flick my tongue against the hard little diamond. Her hands cradle my head, and she pushes me down, smothering me against her glorious, plump tits. I turn my attention to her left breast and give it the same treatment. A pinch, a suck, a nibble. I toe the line between pain and pleasure while my own need continues to build.

"Sweetheart, when you say it's all on the table, is there any chance that includes things we might not have done before?"

She wiggles underneath me, pressing her center into my thigh as she tries to guide my mouth back to her nipples. I happily oblige, dragging my teeth over one before bringing the bud back into my mouth and flicking my tongue against it.

"It depends," she breathes. "What exactly do you want to do?"

I let go her nipple with a wet pop, then drag my lips back up her neck and to her ear.

"I am fucking desperate to taste you, Dorothea."

21

DOTTIE

Every atom in my body is vibrating. The air around us is cold but my skin is unbearably hot. The clothes on my body feel like a prison that I need to escape from, or I will simply die right where I am. My hands are everywhere, on Stephen's shoulders, his face, in his hair. I can't decide where I want to settle because I want to touch him all over.

"I am fucking desperate to taste you, Dorothea."

I mean, fuck. If my clit had a heart, it would have just skipped a goddamn beat. I could feel the rush of wetness pooling in my panties at his words. I never let him go down on me before. He'd asked, practically begged, but I was young and insecure. I was still in that easily influenced phase where mainstream media and–let's be honest, porn–had me convinced that guys didn't like to perform oral on women. That it was a chore, something gross you had to get through to get to themain event, and if I let him try, he might not like me anymore.

Stupid, I know, but that's who I was back then.

Now? Any insecurity I might have had has completely flown the nest, especially with the way Stephen is looking up at me, his eyes glimmering with hope and dirty promises. This man on top of me wants me, I can feel it, and I want him too.

"Stephen," I whisper, running my hand through his hair and then gripping a fist full of it. "Eat me, baby. Please."

"Fuck," he stutters, choking on the word as I nudge him down by his hair. He breathes against my body as he goes, and when his fingers dip into the waistline of my leggings, they feel like flames licking at my skin. I lift my hips and he yanks the cotton down. The blanket falls off his back, but I don't care. He's all the warmth I need, even with my legs now bare to the crisp air.

He kneels and sits back, lifting one leg to remove my fur-lined boot, and then the other. With my shoes gone, he pulls the leggings completely off and gently places them to the side, careful to keep them off the dewy grass. He lowers my legs, and I prop my feet up, spreading my legs and creating a valley for him to climb between.

"Jesus, look at you," he says as reaches out and runs a finger over the damp spot on my panties. I hiss and squirm at his torturous touch. It's not nearly enough to do anything but tease me as he drags his finger up and down.

"These are fucking adorable, sweetheart. I almost feel bad for making such a mess of them," I glance down when he palms my thigh, and realize he's referring to my pink cow-print cheeky panties. I'm about to groan and apologize for not wearing something sexier, but he runs a hand over his mouth, staring down at them like they're the blackest, laciest, most enticing thing he's ever seen.

It's his special skill. Stephen Hudson has always had the ability to make me feel like the most desirable person in any room.

He shuffles down, slinking to the end of the blanket, then runs his big, warm hands over my calves. His light callouses tickle in the most erotic way. His hands are a man's hands. Not just any man, though. They’re working man's hands. Rough and worn and proof of where he's been. He dips his face to my ankle and starts to brush light kisses there, tracing his lips down the arch of my foot.

I twitch and twist from the injection of ecstasy.

He switches legs, moving to my other ankle and dusting kisses there as well. He moves up, up, up, kissing his way from my calf, to my knee, to the inside of my thigh. I tremble as he goes, anticipation and lust warring for dominance in my brain. Just as he reaches the apex of my thighs he switches again, back to my other leg. I whine in protest as he continues his teasing assault up the other side, this time chuckling as he presses open mouthed kisses to my skin.

He hooks his thumbs into the elastic of my pantiesand yanks them down, pulling them off my feet and shoving them into his pocket. The cold air hits my wet pussy, and just as I'm about to start begging, he dives down, licking a hot stripe from my opening to my clit. I gasp when he flicks his tongue against it, teasing, testing, then sucking the sensitive bud between his lips. My back bows and I cry out my pleasure.

I've seen this in videos. I've read about it in books. My friends have told me all about the thrill of having another person pleasure you with their mouth, but nothing could have prepared my senses for the onslaught of bliss coursing through my veins as Stephen makes love to me with his tongue. I can't think, I can't breathe, I can't do anything but gasp and moan and reach for him.

I dig a hand into his hair and push his face further into my pussy, bucking my hips against him as he alternates between long, luxurious licks and quick flicks of my clit, driving me absolutely wild. He swirls a finger around my entrance, gathering the wetness there before pushing in up to his knuckle. I clench around him, and he starts to work his finger in and out. With his other hand, he reaches up and laces his fingers with mine. I hold our hands to my breasts as he starts to fuck me deeper, adding a second finger and swiping against my inner walls.

The need for release builds and builds inside of me as he works my pussy, and I grind myself wantonly against his tongue. I hold on to the edge for as long as I can, unwilling to let myself fall when everything he'sdoing feels so fucking good, but when he hums with my clit between his lips, I lose myself. My eyes snap shut, and I scream his name as my orgasm barrels through me, shooting off like fireworks from core. I writhe and fuck his face as he licks me through it, decreasing his speed and pressure as the waves of pleasure roll over me.

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