Page 49 of His Gift
"Well, see, as I've told you, we're made for each other." I drag her closer, relishing the feeling of her trapped in my arms. Mine. Close. No one and nothing between us. Even though she doesn't feel what I feel. I'll make sure she gets there.
"Conrad."
"Hmmm?"
"You know that towel doesn't really cover anything."
"You're so right, my gift." I get rid of it, pushing my hardening cock against her soft cheeks, and take advantage of her surprise to rip the T-shirtfrom her body. "Now this feels so much better." I have the entire canvas of her skin at my fingertips and I take immediate advantage. She melts into me, allowing my hands to roam free, and I caress every inch of her I can reach, teasing her hardening nipples, brushing the supple flesh of her thighs, closer and closer to her pussy until I can feel wetness coating it.
"So wet, my gift. Do you need to come?" I slide a finger inside her and still, while her pussy clamps down on it. I want it to be my cock, but slow and steady will do the trick. Her only answer is a moan, and I don't move. She knows I'm waiting for her answer.
"Yes, please." Hmmm, that voice—so soft, so needy, so fucking perfect.
My middle finger deep inside her, I use the pad of my thumb to draw small circles on her clitoris, applying just enough pressure to make her pussy clamp on me tighter. I'm not providing enough friction to grant her an orgasm and when she tries to get it, I tighten my arm around her waist.
"Not so fast, sweet girl. Relax, enjoy. I want to take my time with you tonight, and your only duty is to tell me if you're uncomfortable in any way."
"I am uncomfortable. You won't give me what I need." Her voice is grumpy, but when she raises her head to look at me, her gaze is satisfied, as if she is exactly where she wants to be. I can only hope.
"In any way but that." I dip down to kiss her soft lips, gently, slowly. There'll be time for passionate ones, but right now I just want to enjoy. And I can't guarantee I'll be able to control myself otherwise. Silence,interrupted only by her sweet little moans, blankets us. Her eyes grow heavy and her cheeks get more flushed. Her hips are restless and I let her try to conquer her orgasm. I know she won't. Her pleasure is sliding down my hand; on the sheets. The scent so potent that I almost cave. Almost. But I do give her a couple of shallow thrusts here and there.
"How long will you keep me waiting?" If it were for me, all night long. Even though my cock is aching, nothing beats seeing her aroused, putty in my arms, waiting. It's time to move my plan along, though.
"What do you think about a massage?" I slip out of her, bring my hand to my mouth and lick her pleasure slowly, my eyes fixed on hers.
"I think it sounds promising, but in the mood you're in tonight, I'm not sure it's a good idea."
"What mood?"
"In the mood of torturing me." I raise my eyebrows, feigning innocence, and she scowls. Adorable.
"Get comfortable," I say, ripping myself from her warm body and dragging the sheets all the way down. Her eyes go to my cock and she licks her lips. Not tonight, sweet girl, but soon.
She's sprawled on the mattress when I come back with her cocoa cream. Hair fanned out all around her, eyes heavy, her pussy barely visible. It won't do.
"Open your legs, my gift. As much as it's comfortable for you." My mouth is parched and my voice is a low rumble. And when she does as I asked a drop of pre-cum slides down my cock.
"Perfect." I squeeze a handful of cream and settle with a knee on the bed, picking up her foot and massaging it—each toe, the delicate arch, up to her heel. And then I repeat the process with her other foot. She has her head resting on both pillows, eyes locked on me, cheeks flushed, lips parted. And as I work the cream onto her thighs, she licks them. I'm the one who's going to lick his lips soon. I settle between her thighs, bending them so her feet rest on the sheets. "Does it hurt?" She exhales and shakes her head, moving her legs further apart. The view is astonishing. "Good, because you'll stay in this position for a while." I slide my palms under her ass and lower my mouth to her core, tasting her pleasure in slow strokes, and her legs close on my head.
"No, no, sweet girl. If you want me here, you'll keep your legs open. Like that. And your hands over your head. I aim not to be bald by the end of this." She huffs, chuckles, pulls my hair a little and finally takes the position I asked her. "Good girl."
thirty-eight
Harper
The muscles in my thighs are burning from the effort to stay still. And my pussy is downright aching.
Still, I love what Conrad's doing. I love his dedication, his teasing, his skilled tongue. And I love that he's in control. I thought I didn't for a long time, but I do, because I don't feel like he disrespects me. I don't feel like he's forcing me. I didn't even when he took me to his house. Aswrong as that is, he's always made it all about me, and fuck it if he's a crazy, obsessive, unreasonable man. Hehascarved a space in my life. And I want him there.
"Please." It must be the hundredth time I've moaned it. I don't even expect him to comply. I know he has a plan. I'm a little worried about when he'll finally let me come. Pleasure is building up and pressing in my lower belly like a bomb ready to explode. And then his fingers collect my pleasure and start working my ass. Holy fuck. His tongue is spearing me, his fingers slowly entering my asshole, and yet I'm unable to let go.
"I forgot to massage your back, sweet girl." He rumbles it directly on my clit and for a second I believe that's it. That I'm finally finding bliss. I was wrong. "Turn around." He's sitting on his heels, wicked smile on his glistening lips and cock weeping. I'm not the only one he's forcing to wait.
I turn into a fetal position, relishing the pressure on my clit for a second, then sultrily go on my hands and knees, shaking my ass in his face. Thank fuck I'm feeling so much better because I want him to rail me.
"Not what I meant. Slide down." He pushes between my shoulders and I grunt my disapproval, resisting him. "Trust me, Harper. I won't make you regret it." What was I saying about him being crazy and obsessive and infuriating?
This time he starts with my shoulders, his fingers finding every knot and then working their way down to my side, down my lower back, my cheeks, my thighs. I force myself not to grind on the mattress. To stay still. To savor everything he's doing. Feather-light kisses on my neck, along myspine. Then he grabs me under my belly, drags me backward and spears me. And I come screaming, almost pushing him out before I drag him deeper.
