Page 134 of Bottles & Blades

“Honey, please,” she begs, head turning from side to side on the blanket, thighs pressing together, as though trying to soothe the ache between them. “I need you.”

“Then climb on, buttercup,” I order. “And take what you need.”

She stills, lips parting, eyes going wide.

But only for a second.

Because then her mouth is curving up into a sexy smile and she’s propping her elbows beneath her, looking like a languid goddess gilded in moonlight. “Climb on?”

“That an order you can handle, baby?”

Her smile grows.

“Yeah, I can handle it.”

She clambers on top of me, and there’s nothing shy about the way she grabs my cock, positioning it between her thighs, rubbing her slick pussy over the tip of my dick, back and forth, back and forth.

I smother a groan, clenching my hands into fists in an attempt to hold tight to my control.

But when another back and forth movement sends pleasure skating through my body, I can’t hold still. I sit up, cupping her breasts in both hands, massaging them, teasing the taut nipples before sucking them deeply.

“Jean-Mi,” she moans, my cock notching at her entrance.

Her hips buck, but she doesn’t take me deep, just gently rocks, gently teases.

“Take it, buttercup,” I rasp, head spinning, need rippling through me.

“I l-like teasing y-you,” she stutters, letting me in an inch and then another.

“You’ll like having me deep more—fuck!”

She grins, thighs dropping to my hips, my cock suddenly balls deep inside her, the tight clasp of her pussy driving me insane. “Yeah, honey,” she murmurs, bending forward to brush her lips over mine. “I do like this better.”

And then she slides up. “Oh,” she moans, her head falling back.

“Take the rest, baby.”

She listens, grinding down, lifting up, rocking forward and backward, finding her rhythm like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

I guess maybe it is.

Each touch feels like coming home. Every stroke is nirvana. Each of her moans the prettiest music I’ve ever heard.

It’s natural.

It’s perfect.

It’s her and me.

“God, I love you,” she whispers, finding her groove, taking what she needs, driving us both slowly insane.

And then not so slowly.

She grinds faster, takes me deeper.

“Oh,” she whispers.

I feel it.

---