Page 84 of Faithful

Behind me, the warmth of Kai’s body moves closer until I’m covered in it almost completely.

He runs both palms from the nape of my neck down the curve of my back, mapping the grooves of tense muscles there, caressing them with the pads of his fingers.

Somewhere in that stirring of various sensations, there’s a sound.

A pull of air between teeth.

A hiss.

It clashes with my own erratic breathing in the silence of the room.

I feel his lips on my shoulder as he leans in to kiss it. His mouth, soft and playful, slips lower. Tracks the bumps of my spine, one by one. Pauses right on the small of my back above that dip. Lingers there, hot and with the weight of certain promise.

It’s unexpected–the tentative slide of his tongue against my flesh, his fingers skimming over my flanks and parting my ass.

I’d say if you really want to feel owned, that’s exactly how it’s done.

You’re bared completely and there’s no room left for embarrassment because it’s too fucking late. Once you have another guy’s tongue up your ass, there’s no returning from that (not that I’d want to).

So, yeah, that happens… and parts of it are… hard to describe. Other parts are just as vivid as some of the best memories you could possibly have.

I’m not certain if I should be surprised that his rimming skills are just as good as his blow job skills. I mean, he’s got years of experience on me if you really think about it. I’ve never asked him about his previous lovers (hookups?) because the topic always seemed like something he wouldn’t discuss anyway. Too private and perhaps I simply didn’t dare to know how many people he’d be comparing me with and how I would measure up to all those who were better than me.

But I’ve picked up bits and pieces of his mysterious past from the way he is in bed.

He’s done plenty of filthy things before and he’s done them more than once. Contrary to my earlier assumptions, he enjoys pleasuring his partner, enjoys absorbing the reactions he draws from that person like a vampire would draw blood.

It’s strange and wonderful, and I would be lying if I said that I didn’t feel spoiled and fucking special to be on the receiving end of his gifts at this very moment, to be writhing from the kind of pre-orgasmic nirvana probably only a lucky few get to live through. That is, assuming I even survive this assault on my senses.

Mind soft as mush, I manage to slide my hand down to my cock, palm it, and give it a stroke.

My lungs seem to lack air because breathing has become hard. Fuck, everything has become hard to the point of pain. Pun intended.

Behind me, Kai shifts. The heat of his mouth is gone for a second, leaving me bereft. The mattress dips and there’s the telltale scrape of the bedside drawer. It’s being pulled open in a hurry. There’s a clink of jewelry against the nightstand. He removes his rings.

“Lie down on your back,” he says, voice low.

I do exactly that.

He positions his body on top of mine. Nuzzles the crook of my neck. Nips at my shoulder. Rubs his pelvis over my thigh. Tightens his fist around my cock, the glide of his hand pure heaven.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” I mutter between the helpless whimpers he’s wrung out of me. “Has anyone ever told you how talented you are with that mouth of yours?”

“You just did.” His fingers skim over my ribs and down to my trembling stomach. “Although Jesus is probably not in here with us right now. I don’t like sharing.”

I try to think of a funny comeback, but his touch as he pushes my leg to the side and puts a finger on that spot he just teased to death moments ago distracts me. On impulse, I shove up to make it easier for him. My head tilts back, burrowing into the bedding.

Kai takes his time before he pauses to apply some lube. He kisses me then, gently on the lips. A finger gingerly slides inside and it’s overwhelming–the feeling of being opened. Overwhelming in a good way.

I moan and he swallows that moan.

“Relax, baby.”

There, in the feverish darkness of the expensive hotel suite occasionally interrupted by sensuous whispers, I hear myself cursing as he slowly prepares me for what’s to come. When I’m primed, he pushes back to sit on his haunches. There are hands on my thighs rearranging me. There’s the sound of a labored inhale and shaky exhale, and I don’t know if they are mine or his because I’m not very certain where I’m at anymore. My heartbeat is loud and fast in my ears, and I’m surrounded by some sort of lightness that has no name. I don’t remember ever having an experience similar to the one I’m having now—all my most sacred dreams and all my dirtiest fantasies combined into one and served to me on a silver platter.

A condom wrapper is ripped.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I register the wobble of the mattress, my limbs being spread, skin pressing to skin.

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