Page 71 of Second Swing
He leans in, kissing up my throat as he unzips my pants, peeling them off me slowly. But after hearing what he just said, I don’t know if I can take this new slow pace. Before I can complain, my panties join my cargos on the ground, and he’s pulling off my top, exposing my heavy, bare breasts.
“Fuck.You aren't wearing a bra.” Clinton leans downs and sucks one of my brown peaks into his mouth, then doing the same to the other. “I love your breasts, they’re perfect.”
I slide my hands up his naked chest and grin as I push him onto the bed. I follow, straddling his waist as I rub my wet heat against his hardlength. Clinton groans as I move over him, and then he’s pulling my hips up to his mouth. I hesitate again, my nerves getting the best of me. My chest rises and falls. “What if I take too long, what if…”
Swatting my ass twice, he pulls me again, and I let him. He looks up at me from between my thighs, his hands resting on my ass and says. “I have craved you for seven long years, I have nothing but time.” And then his mouth is devouring me. His tongue circles my clit. His hands grip my ass and spread me open wide. Clinton spears me with his tongue, and his name falls easily from my lips.
When he gives my ass a hard slap, my body moves on its own accord, grinding on his hot mouth. I drop my hand back on the bed, giving myself some support and pull at my nipple with the other. Moans pour out of me, consumed by how fucking good Clint makes me feel. Here in the most erotic moment, I feel safe and taken care of.
He draws loving circles over my clit, the calloused roughness adding to the feeling. My orgasm is already building just beneath my skin. Electric tingles prickle down my spine as he continues to spear me with his tongue.
The sensation travels to my toes, and when Clint spreads my cheeks, delving into me deeper, I lose it. “Oh my God, Clint! I’m–I’m going to come.”
“Come all over my tongue, Dove. Make a mess of me,” he says as he licks me, and my orgasm hits me like a freight train. All I can do is hang on for the ride. Waves coast over my skin, and I release a scream as I come apart.
Clint doesn’t stop. He continues to lick and suck on my clit, edging me closer to another orgasm, and I topple over the edge again, ecstasy sizzling over my skin.
Rolling off my new favorite seat, I lie next to Clint, catching my breath. “That was amazing.”
I track his tongue running over his bottom lip and shiver. The side of his mouth quirks up in a smirk. “You taste like honey.”
“Oh, I’m sweet, huh?” I tease him.
He nods his head slightly, a satisfied smile playing along his lips. “I would spend every single minute between your thighs if I could.”
With strong arms he pulls me into his side, pressing my cheek into his chest, and I nuzzle in. Enjoying the silence I’ve gotten used to after we make love. He traces circles over my naked hip, and I place a small kiss to his chest. “Can it always be like this?”
“It doesn’t ever have to be anything different.” He presses a kiss to my hair, and I take a longer moment to really take in his space, how safe I feel here with him.
His bedroom is minimal and clean, the soft carpet being one of my favorite things of the entire condo—aside from the shower. What anyone would assume would be a dark and broody bachelor pad feels like a place someone calls home. Clean and welcoming, much like Clint himself.
I press a kiss to his chest, biting him a bit for no reason other than enjoying the feel of him between my teeth. Maybe it's for a sense of ownership, a claiming, even if I don't leave any marks.
“You like biting, hm?” he questions.
“Maybe I just like biting you.”
“As long as I get to bite you back,” he responds, tickling my side.
I buck against him, laughing loudly as I try to get away from his traitorous hands. “Clinton!” I scream, begging him at this point. “Please! I can’t. Please.” He finally slows, and I try to even out my erratic breathing.
“I love it when you sound needy.” My God, this man and his mouth will be the death of me. Can someone die of too many orgasms? Sounds honorable. His cock thickens against my leg, and I no longer give a damn if the sensations kill me or not.
“I need your hands on the headboard, Dove. I’m not done with you yet.” And I do just that. Clinton and I get lost in each other's desires. And not for the first time do I imagine what it would be like to spend the rest of my life with him, just like this.
This month feels like it's been at least two. I’m exhausted. Between the golf tournament closing in and Cassidy’s engagement, I don't have much bandwidth left, and the edges of my sanity are starting to fray.
My bones are tired. Shaken Tropes has been booming since we added in Dance in the Library nights. My feet throb from standing all evening as I slide into my sneakers and pull on the laces.
I may be tired but I know a run will clear my head. Tying my sneakers, I give Waffles a few scratches beneath his chin. “I know I haven’t been home as much, but I promise tonight will be chill.” He meows at me before he jumps up on the couch and curls into a cozy ball of fluff.
Slipping my phone into the pocket of my leggings, I fit my arms through my running jacket and head for the door. The cold wind whips across my face as I step outside, stopping at the mailbox to do a few stretches.
I haven't checked it in a couple of days, and something is nagging at me to check to see what’s inside. “I can do it once I get back,” I say to myself, urging my feet to get going.
I start off with a slow pace and work my way up to my full speed, which I’ll admit is still pretty slow…but I'm not here to compete with anyone, this is for me. The feel of my feet pounding on the pavement helps me focus, sore feet and all. I need to clear my head so I can actually enjoy my day off. What better way to start the day than with a run that will lead to the most perfect nap.
I stretch out on a bench on my way back, letting the burn ease the last bit of my fragments of frustration and exhaustion.
