by Tracy Wolff
When she finally pulled back, giving his balls one last, lingering kiss, he was a sweating, trembling mess. His cock was on fire, his body completely under her thrall, and he didn’t know whether to thank her for stopping or plead with her to continue.
Before he could make up his mind, the decision was taken out of his hands as her sweet, sexy mouth swallowed him whole.
“I dreamed of you doing this,” he whispered as she began to suck. “Dreamed of your hair in my hands, your mouth on my dick, your tongue licking me into a frenzy of desire. Of need.”
He whispered his fantasy to her, feeling it was only fair that he give her something back for all the dreams she’d shared, unwittingly, with him. “Ever since the night on the balcony, I dreamed of having you like this. Naked, in bed, taking me as I’m dying to take you.”
She moaned at his words, the little sound sending shock waves of sensation through his cock, and he lost the ability to talk, to think, to fucking breathe. And when she ran her tongue over and around the head of his dick, he wasn’t sure how much longer he could go without imploding. The pleasure—the goddamned, unbelievable pleasure—was like nothing he’d ever felt before. Incredible, amazing, unending, and before he knew what he was doing, he was shoving himself into her mouth again and again, begging her to take more of him. To take all of him.
And she was doing it, her glorious mouth pulling him deeper into the flames of desire. Taking him so completely that he couldn’t imagine anything ever measuring up to her—to this—again.
Lifting his head so he could see her, he watched as Lacey sucked him off. It was the most erotic thing he’d ever seen, her pale pink lips closing around him as he thrust between them. Her eyes open and glazed with a need that shot straight through him, a need that had his cum boiling up inside him. What was it about this woman with the wary eyes and delicate build that took him places he’d never dreamed of going?
He didn’t know, and in that moment didn’t care. All that he was was held in thrall by Lacey and her hotter-than-hell sex appeal.
His teeth clenched and his jaw locked as the moist, sexy heat of her mouth drew him in deep. Her tongue ran in circles around his throbbing cock—up and down and around until all he could think about was coming in her mouth while she milked him with lips and tongue and throat.
Pleasure swept through him at the thought, moving from his balls to the base of his cock, taking him over as she pulled him all the way in, her tongue stroking the sensitive spot at the underside of his cock in a rhythm that had his fists clenching and his eyes crossing.
“Lacey, you need to stop.” The words were so low and guttural he barely understood them, but she seemed to know what he was saying and she refused to yield. He cupped her cheeks in his hands, tried to pull her up, but she tightened her hold on his ass even as she drew him deeper into her mouth.
“Lacey, I’m going to come. I’m going to—”
He broke off as she made a low, approving sound at the back of her throat, and that moan was all it took to slam him over the edge of ecstasy. And then he was coming, spurting inside her, his cum jetting furiously into her mouth. She took all of it, all of him, with a grace that had him climaxing hard and deep.
And still it wasn’t enough.
He wanted more. Needed more with an obsession he didn’t understand. All he knew was that he had to taste Lacey, had to take her, had to make her his in every way there was.
He wanted her to come on his fingers, on his lips, against his tongue, around his cock. He wanted to savor her sweetness on his tongue, to suck her incredible honey down his throat and swallow it. Swallow her, so that her taste—her pleasure—would always be with him.
Pulling her up until they were face-to-face, he traced his finger over her bottom lip, reveling in the heat that poured from her like a furnace. Then he took her mouth the way he wanted to take her body.
It wasn’t a gentle kiss, wasn’t sweet or careful or any of the other things he’d told himself he would be. It was hungry, ravenous, filled with need and lust and enough fire to burn the whole damn Quarter down.
He wanted to pull back, to take it slower, to show her how he felt about her, but she was having none of it. Her hands fisted in his hair, her fingers dug into his scalp and a sharp, furious cry tore from her throat.
That cry sent him soaring past the boundaries of the control he’d just managed to regain. With a groan, he ran his tongue over her lips and then went deep—taking her mouth the way he was dying to take her body. Licking, sucking, savoring the sweet taste of her. Nipping at her, delving deep, exploring all of her and loving every second of it.
When he couldn’t take any more, when the need to thrust his tongue inside her and hear her scream was nearly overwhelming, he pulled away. And she fought him with her hands and lips and body, struggling to keep him where he was.
“Lacey, baby, I want more of you.” He ran his lips down her neck, paused for long seconds at her breasts, where he ran his tongue over her gorgeous little nipples. Teased them, nipped at them, sucked them, licked them, until she was screaming his name.
Lacey’s heart was beating so fast and hard that she was afraid it would jump right out of her chest. “Byron, please,” she whimpered as she ran her hands over the smooth muscles of his back. He was pushing her right to the brink of madness again and again. His mouth on her breast felt so good, so hot, so right that it took all her concentration not to scream, not to beg.
“Please what, baby?” He skimmed his mouth over her breast, down her stomach to the curve of her hip. “Tell me what you want.”
“I want—” Her voice broke as embarrassment welled within her. Writing her desires down in her fantasies was one thing, even if she posted them on the Internet. That was okay. That was anonymous. But looking at her lover as he prepared to go down on her, and telling him how she liked it? That was too much, especially as she had no idea how to answer him. The question had never come up before; none of her other lovers had ever bothered to ask.
Byron’s tongue stroked over her stomach, circled her belly button before he worked his way lower. But just when she thought he would take her in his mouth, he paused and looked at her with his fallen-angel eyes and whispered, “Tell me, Lacey. Tell me how you like it. Soft and sweet?” His tongue made one long, lingering caress over her bare mons, and had her moaning.
“Hard and hot?” He spiked his tongue, played with her clit.
“Slow and deep?” He moved lower and licked along the lips of her pussy before stabbing his tongue deep inside her.
She screamed at the first touch of his tongue inside her, moving restlessly against him as her hips came off the bed.
“Is that it, baby?” he asked, his breath hot against her. “You want my tongue inside you?”
“Yes!” The word escaped before she knew she was going to say it, and Lacey would have been embarrassed if what Byron was doing to her didn’t feel so damn good. His tongue was inside her, stroking the walls of her vagina with strong, powerful motions that had stars dancing in front of her eyes. Again and again he stroked, and she rose higher and higher.
But when she was on the brink of coming—when orgasm beckoned to her with rosy promise—he stopped dead. Left her hanging on the edge without a safety net, her nerve endings screaming for a relief he refused to provide.
“Byron, please!” The words were nearly incoherent with need, but he must have understood, because once again his tongue began to move. But this time, he took it slower, softer. Moved his tongue in gently fluttering motions that sent a whole new range of sensations spinning through her.
Once again, he took her right to the brink. Once again, he stopped right before she went crashing over. Grabbing his hair in her hands, she tugged sharply, then reveled in his sharp gasp. “Do it,” she demanded, her hips moving wildly against his mouth.
She felt, more than saw, his grin. “Do what?” he whispered as he pulled out and ran his tongue over her in leisurely strokes.
“You know what.”
It was a plea, when she’d sworn to herself that she would never again beg a man for anything. But here now, in Byron’s arms, she didn’t mind begging, didn’t mind humbling herself in front of him.
How could she, when he took such pleasure from driving her insane? When he gave her such pleasure in return?
“I don’t think I do,” he answered with a teasing flick of his tongue that had her breath hitching in her throat. “Why don’t you tell me?”
“Byron, come on.”
“Lacey, come on.” He mimicked her in between soft, sweet swipes of his tongue.
The pleasure was building, taking her higher, but still he didn’t let her come. Finally, when she could take no more, when the pleasure was so intense it was almost pain, she cried, “Make me come. Please, Byron, let me come!”
He laughed and with one swirl of his tongue on her clit sent her careening into orgasm. A few more flicks and the quick slide of his fingers inside her had her spiraling up and over again.
And still he wasn’t done.
Rolling onto his back, he lifted her in his strong arms and held her open and vulnerable above him.
“Byron, what are you—”
“Sssh, baby. Let me take care of you.” He lowered her until her knees were on either side of his head and her pussy poised directly above his amazing mouth.
She laughed, but it came out as a half sob. “I thought you just did.”
She felt more than saw him smile. “Oh, baby, I’m just getting started.” Then he whispered something low and guttural and vaguely obscene, his breath steamy hot against the heart of her right before he pulled her clit into his mouth and began to suck.
She came like a freight train, her body spiraling up and over so quickly that she hadn’t seen it coming. Hadn’t felt it coming until it was too late, until the hard shell she kept around her thoughts and emotions simply shattered into myriad pieces. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. Couldn’t do anything but wait for whatever he was going to do next, as she spun outside herself to a place where only pleasure existed.
Wave after wave of the stuff crashed through her, taking her over. Frightening her with its intensity. Making her wonder how she’d ever lived without the sensations currently flooding her. The pleasure was so real, so raw, so all-encompassing that she couldn’t help being scared, certain it was going to take over every part of her.
For long moments, she struggled to regain control. To hold on to something that had been lost with the first soft touch of Byron’s mouth. She’d worked so hard to find herself that losing control now—at his hands—seemed faintly sacrilegious. At the same time, the never-ending pleasure was addictive, and there was a part of her that wanted nothing more than to wrap it around herself and just enjoy.
Byron sucked harder, swirling his tongue around the hard bud of her clitoris, and she bucked against his mouth in an effort to get closer, to get away. But he was having none of it. His hands fastened on her upper thighs, spread her wider, held her in place with the strength evident in his long, lean, muscular frame.
Need built in her again, sharp and all-consuming, and she didn’t know what to do. She was going to lose her mind, lose her heart, lose control right here and now, and there was nothing she could do to stop it. He was taking her, and in doing so had knocked down every wall she’d built between herself and the world.
“Byron, stop. I can’t—”
“You can.” His voice was lower, harsher than she’d ever heard it. And when she glanced into his eyes, she was trapped by the flames flickering there, building to a towering inferno that threatened to consume every part of her.
His tongue—his wanton, wicked tongue—went from quick swirls to long, luxurious licks that had her hurtling, inconceivably, toward yet another climax. Ecstasy trembled along nerve endings that hadn’t yet recovered from his first assault as he used his teeth, his tongue, his lips on her.
“Look at me,” he demanded, and her eyes flew open. Met his turbulent black ones, and what she saw there took her higher even as it scared her to death. This wasn’t ordinary lovemaking; with every kiss, he was claiming her, branding her, demanding something from her she hadn’t wanted to give him. Hadn’t wanted to give any man.
A high, keening sound came from within her, filling the room and making Byron’s eyes and hands harden with desire. Moving one hand, he thrust first one finger and then another inside her. Found her sweet spot and stroked—once, twice—before pulling out to spread the liquid heat of her desire over and around her anus. He circled the tight bud again and again and she whimpered, nearly out of her mind with the need for more. The need for everything.
Just when she was certain he wasn’t going to do it, when she was certain she would lose her mind, he thrust one long, calloused finger inside her and started to rub. Another orgasm whipped through her—quick and powerful and so all-consuming that there was no way she could hold back the screams that welled in her throat. She felt Byron smile against her as her cries bounced off the walls.
Fast and hard and never-ending. This time she screamed in total abandon.
Still, he continued to push her, trying—she assumed—to bring her to the irrevocable edge of total and complete madness.
“Stop,” she gasped, as she grabbed on to the headboard and tried desperately to lift herself away from him. But he held on tight, his hands bearing down on the smooth silkiness of her hips and thighs, and she gave up on the fight she was very quickly beginning to understand was unwinnable.
Before the night was over, Byron was going to have her every way a man could have a woman, and she was going to let him. Was going to beg him, if things continued in this vein. The only thing that kept her grounded was seeing the need and desire in his own eyes.
He was as desperate for her as she was for him, and the fact made the unbelievable whirlwind of her emotions so much more palatable. He continued to torment her as his hands held her open to him—sucking, licking, spearing his tongue deep inside her—until one orgasm blended into another. And another. The more sensitive she grew, the more deliberate he became until she couldn’t do anything but take it. Take him.
She couldn’t talk, couldn’t think, couldn’t function, and still he persisted. No matter how she twisted and begged, pulled and whimpered, he wouldn’t let her escape from his questing, ravenous mouth.
“Byron, no,” she finally gasped. He had to stop. He had to. She couldn’t survive another—
He laughed, a dark rich sound that raced through her bloodstream, right before his tongue speared deep inside her and hurtled her—that easily—into another climax.
She wondered vaguely how many times she’d come, as she’d lost count at four, and knew she’d left that number behind at least three orgasms ago. But it was nearly impossible to focus on anything but the ecstasy ravaging her body with each seductive movement of Byron’s mouth. He was devouring her, pushing her beyond any and all limits, until she couldn’t recognize the tormented, pleading woman she was fast becoming.
“Not yet,” he growled while his tongue flicked deliberately from her clit to her anus and back again. “I’ll never get enough of tasting you, never get enough of watching you unravel in my arms. I could go down on you all night.”
Once again, he slid his tongue between her slick folds, and once again, she came, stars exploding in front of her blind eyes as she whimpered and sobbed and pleaded with him to take her.
Finally—finally—when she was on the brink of losing herself and everything she’d worked so hard for, when control was a nebulous concept she could no longer understand, he released her.
She slid bonelessly to the bed, into his embrace and half into sleep, but he wasn’t done with her. Suddenly, they were rolling and she was beneath him, her body shaking with the need to feel him inside her.
Grabbing on to his shoulder with shaky hands, she pleaded with him to finish it. “I can’t take any more, Byron. I’ll die. You have to do it.”
“Do what?” he ask
ed, cupping her chin in one large hand so that she had no way of looking at anything but him.
The dam inside her burst, sweeping her up in the overwhelming tumble of sensations rushing through her. “Fuck me!” she all but screamed. You have to take me. You have to—”
Lacey’s breathy pleas ran through him like a hit of electricity, and Byron nearly trembled in relief. She tasted so sweet and spicy as he’d taken her with his mouth that he was on the brink of losing total control. Running his tongue over his lips, savoring every drop of the warm honey she’d given up to him, he let himself go.
With a roar, he slammed himself up and into her, burying himself balls deep with his very first thrust. She clamped around him like a greedy fist, and his eyes nearly crossed at the pleasure and at the insanity that rocked him as he once again became a part of her.
She was slick and wet and burning hot, and for a moment he was truly convinced that he’d lose it before he could make her come one last time.
Gritting his teeth against the sensations gathering at the base of his spine, he worked to hold on to the ragged edges of his control. Then she whimpered—her hands pulling at his hair, her legs wrapping themselves around his waist, her cunt pulling at his cock—and he knew he’d reached the end of his patience.
He rode her hard, his hands braced on either side of her head as he kept his gaze on hers—forcing her to look at him. Making sure she knew that this was real, that he was more than a fantasy. Determined to ensure that she stayed in the here and now, that she knew exactly who it was that was making love to her.
Over and over he thrust into her satin heat until the fire threatened to consume him. Flames of pleasure flashed through him, burning him up with the intensity of the emotions and sensations that had taken over his body.
He needed the sanity that would come with a physical release, but he wanted to keep making love to Lacey. He wanted to stay like this forever, connected to her by his body and mind and the overwhelming, unbelievable pleasure that burned between them.
