Page 58 of Take My Breath Away
He laughs. “I like you being stiff. Stiff is good.” He looks at my cock, lying against my belly, which does a little twitch under his gaze.
“You’re not awkward, just a little nervy, but believe me when I say you’ve no need to be. Like I said, I want to take care of you, but I want to do that how you want it. Which means we can just kiss, touch, explore each other. We can do whatever you want Perry, no more, no less.”
The kiss he places on my lips is affirmation of his words. I sigh and chase his kiss with my own, as his fingers, so soft, deft, and sure, trail from my face, to my neck, and over my chest, brushing across my nipples, which fizz with electricity. He’s read me right, the way he so often seems to. This is what I want, the sensuality of touch, of caress after caress. I want him, us, to take time.
James’ kisses follow the meander of his fingers over my heated, tingling skin. His kisses and tiny licks and nips tremble on the edge of pain.
“Oh God,” I gasp, as his mouth covers one of my nipples.
He chuckles, the sound low, deep, and dark, shooting vibrations through my body, making my cock dance and my back arch upwards. Every part of me shudders and shakes as he sucks hard, teasing one nub and then the next into a long stretch before sucking it back into the wet heat of his mouth.
The bedroom’s hot, the air filled with the sound of sucking and desperate breathy groans, my groans, as I scrub my fingers through his hair and gasp for more.
The whimpering sound that can only come from me fills the room as James’ lips leave behind my throbbing nipples as they wander, taking their time to move towards the pulsing heat between my legs.
I spread myself wide, demanding, wanton, craving his mouth on me.
“Beautiful Perry. So fucking beautiful,” James whispers, the heat of his breath washing over my throbbing, heavy, aching cock.
Beautiful. That word again, filling my cock as it fills my heart.
I groan as he takes me in his hand, his palm encircling my shaft, and I push up into his fist, not a leisurely push and slide, but jerky and impatient. Slow and leisurely, taking our time, has morphed into a desperate hunger that’s demanding to be fed.
But James doesn’t want to feed me yet as once more he gives me that dark chuckle.
“We’ll get there, but not on the motorway. We’re taking the scenic route.”
“You bast—ahhh!”
His tongue laves across my engorged and straining cockhead, knocking all words and sense from me.
Kisses, sucks, long wide licks from the base to the tip, again and again and again. With his other hand, he rolls and massages my balls and I jerk and cry out as he swipes a finger across my perineum, hurtling me towards the edge, pulling me back with a firm grip on the base of my cock.
“Not yet, baby, not yet. Scenic route, remember,” he says, his voice muffled as he pushes his face into my groin, and breathes in deep.
I thrust my hips forward.
“Don’t want any more side roads, so get on the fucking motorway now. And no stopping at services stations.”
Between my legs, his shoulders shake as laughter bubbles out of him, and in the moonlight and shadows, I join in.
“Greedy, demanding boy.”
He knocks the laughter from me as he buries my cock deep in his mouth.
“Jesus fucking Christ.” The words explode out of me.
He’s taken me not just onto the motorway, but into the fast lane.
Sucking hard and fast, his tongue dances over the head of my cock and around the rim. The wet slap of his mouth on me mixes with my cries, gasps and garbled words demandingmore, harder, faster. The head of my cock nudges against the soft covered hardness of the back of his throat, and his answering hum is an electrical overload shooting through every nerve and lighting a fire in my blood. My hands find his fast-bobbing head, urging him on, as my hips jerk and judder upwards to meet him. A sweep of a fingertip on the rim of my hole, and my breath hitches hard as heat explodes deep in my belly. I squeeze my eyes shut as my orgasm rockets through me.
“James, I’m…” I cry out. My hands are weak and uncoordinated as I push at his head, trying to warn him, but it’s too late as I hurtle over the precipice James has brought me to, shooting my release into his hot mouth.
My hands fall away as every bone in my body dissolves to mush.
I can hear nothing other than the thunder of my heart and see nothing other than the dying lights dancing in the blackness behind my clenched shut eyes. The bed shifts, knocking some semblance of sense into my numb brain. I drag my eyes open, and blink up into James’ smiling face. He’s switched on the lamp, bathing the room in a soft amber glow.
With gentle fingers he sweeps away my hair, sticky with sweat, away from my brow, and traces his fingers down my face with a gentleness that causes my heart to clench. I can’t speak because of the hard lump filling my throat. He shouldn’t be doing this, touching me with a soft tenderness that makes my heart flutter. He should be moving away because we’ve finished, we’ve got over the line, so there’s no more reason or need for touch. It’s what every other man I’ve been to bed with has done.
