Page 62 of Love on the Vine
“So impatient,” he mumbled as he moved to the valley between my breasts. But when he took the other one in his mouth, he sucked hard and deep.
“Yes,” I cried out, holding his head against me. He pressed the hard rise of his pants into me, and I was pretty sure if he kept it up I could come just like that.
Instead, he slowed down, backing away slightly and kissing a warm trail back up to my mouth. “Not yet,” he whispered. “What did I tell you about anticipation?”
“God, Jake. I’m more than anticipating this. I need you.” I groaned against his mouth, my hands grasping his neck. He kissed me deeply then, sweeping his tongue against mine. I sucked at it greedily and ran my hands over his shirt, my fingers tugging ineffectually at his buttons. “Why are you still dressed?”
He laughed and, brushing my shaking hands aside, began removing his shirt. I leaned back on my hands as he tossed it aside, revealing smooth skin over sculpted shoulders, the light covering of hair on his chest, his solid abdomen ending in a sexy V above his pants.
Sitting up, I trailed my fingers down his chest, flattened my hands on the firm skin of his pecs, burnished by the candlelight. “My turn now,” I said as my eyes met his. “It wouldn’t be much of a lesson if I didn’t get a taste too.”
Following his example, I dipped a finger into my glass and touched it to his collarbone. I pressed my lips to him, my tongue darting over his warm skin, tasting the lingering scent of his citrusy cologne, and also something spicy and indescribably masculine. I covered his neck in hungry kisses, rubbing my nipples against the hair of his chest. His arms steeled around me. He grunted and ground into me again.
“Uh-uh.” I pushed away. “So impatient,” I teased as I ran my hands over his chest again.
He had a freckle high on his left pec and I traced a drop of wine over it, watching his muscles twitch reflexively as I brushed my lips to it, breathing him in. I wanted to bury myself against the solid expanse of him, press my ear to the spot where I could hear his heart thudding in his chest. I kissed him there too. That part of him that I wanted to reach but wasn’t sure if I ever could.
Then I painted his flat brown nipple with the Château d’Yquem and lapped at it gently. His fingers dug into my hips. “I think that I prefer you without the wine. I like how you taste,” I said, running my hands over his hips, along the waistband of his trousers, undoing his belt.
He gripped my hand, stilling it, forcing me to meet his gaze, which was even more smoky and intense than it had been earlier. “Funny you should say that. I was thinking the same thing.”
He pushed me gently back onto my elbows and I watched as he lowered his head, not back down to my breasts where I wanted him, but to my stomach. His soft breath, followed by his tongue, tickled my navel as he slid his thumbs beneath the sides of my panties. He lowered his mouth over the small lace triangle, which was already embarrassingly damp, then kissed me there.
I immediately tensed. None of my boyfriends had ever had much interest in going down on me and I’d never asked for it even though I did it for them. It was too embarrassing, too intimate.
“Jake,” I panted. “You don’t have to . . .”
He raised his head and stared at me like he didn’t understand. “I want to,” he said like it was the most obvious response in the world. “Do you not want me to?”
He stroked his warm palm over my belly, held it there while he waited for me to answer.
“I just . . . no one’s ever . . .” I trailed off, embarrassed.
“You’re kidding?” I shook my head and bit my lips. He considered this for a minute, disbelief written on his handsome face. And his mouth turned up in that cocky smile again. “So I get the first taste?”
My core clenched at his words, at how visibly pleased he was at the prospect of being the first man to put his tongue inside me. He slid his thumbs back under the sides of my panties. “Tell me you want this.” Like he had the day before, he was asking for permission.
I swallowed and nodded. Then he peeled my panties slowly down my legs and dropped them to the floor, placed my ankle on his shoulder then kissed a path back up my calf, stroking his fingers over the undersides of my thighs, until it felt like small lightning bolts all over my skin. He kissed the insides of my thighs, nuzzling higher, gently always so gently. It tugged at my heart, the care he always took with me.
“I plan on taking my time with you, so don’t come until I tell you to,” he warned in a low, serious voice. Our eyes met and then, his gaze never leaving mine, he lowered his mouth on me. His tongue, hot and searching, parted me slowly and I whimpered.
The sight of his head between my legs was almost as devastating as the way his tongue was working inside me, in sure, thorough strokes. I pressed the back of my hand against my mouth to keep from crying out and closed my eyes, giving myself over fully to the sensation. Warm, wet, pulsing. Oh my God, how had I lived without this until now?
He growled against me. “I never want to get the taste of you off my tongue.”
He pushed my thighs wider, his tongue diving into my center then flicking up to my clit. When he sucked gently my insides turned to molten lava and I could already feel the pressure of my orgasm building. I gasped his name.
He licked away from my clit, slid a finger inside me. “You’re so fucking wet,” Jake grit out, his head hovering above my abdomen. Meeting my eyes, he warned, “Don’t come yet.”
He slid a second finger inside me, stretching me, and I wiggled in discomfort until I got used to it. “Fuck, you’re tight. I’m afraid I’m going to hurt you.”
He massaged me, pumping his fingers inside and out, sliding over a spot that made my legs tremble. “Jake, please . . .”
“I know you want to come, baby, but not yet.” He watched as I writhed on his fingers. “Let me see you play with those gorgeous tits.”
Head thrown back, I arched off the table, palming my breast. Jake lowered his head back to me and continued his long, tortuous passes of his tongue with just the right pressure until I was on the verge of release and then retreating. His sounds of pleasure as he licked me were driving me out of my mind. It was too much. Between his fingers working inside me and his tongue dragging over me, I was a sobbing mess, making incoherent moans, begging him to let me come.
Finally, he turned his full attention back to my clit, licking and sucking until I couldn’t hold back anymore. A tidal wave of an orgasm rolled over me. I came so hard I saw stars behind my eyelids. He made me ride it out, clenching around his fingers, prolonging the sensation for as long as possible. The last spasms were still twitching through me as he kissed his way back up my body toward my mouth.
