Page 118 of Ace My Heart

His breathy laugh made my pussy squeeze once more.

“I’m not torturing you,” he murmured, his hands sliding up my inner thighs as he stared intently at my pussy. “I’m learning you.”

And then his nose nuzzled the top of my slit. I bucked under him, but his hands pressed my hips down into the mattress, holding me firmly in position.

A tiny flick of his tongue, just where I needed it, made me cry out so loudly I was sure that people in the hotel foyer would hear.

He flicked and teased, then swept his tongue away from my swollen, throbbing clit, until I was shaking with need. And then back again and away. Back and away.

The ache was building inside me with each flick, and receding when he stopped. Then when he returned the sensations were more violent than before. Fucking torture.

My breath was coming in short, staccato pants and my legs were shuddering with every swipe of his tongue.

And then he took one hand off my belly, and seconds later I felt the longed for thrust of fingers inside me.

I dissolved into a screaming, panting, shuddering mess. He wrung every cry from me, lapping at my quivering flesh and lazilythrusting his fingers as I came down from the high he’d just taken me to. Disobeying his orders, I reached down, trying to push his head away from my over-sensitised clit. He resisted, massaging every last shudder from me with his talented tongue.

“Joel!” I gasped.

He finally released me, kissing his way slowly, sensuously back up my body.

“That was … mind blowing!” he murmured with feeling, grinning like a cat that got the cream. Quite literally.

“You’re telling me,” I replied breathlessly, licking my lips and eyeing his throbbing dick. “But now, it’s my turn.”

I lost count of how many times we had sex that night. We would fuck until we were both satisfied, and then we’d nap for a little while, just to start all over again.

What had surprised me the most about the night was that after that first hot bang just inside the front door, he’d been incredibly tender with me. The gentle kisses he’d dropped on my lips, my shoulders, my breasts, my belly, and lower … The way he had stared at my face every time I climaxed, his expression devouring me. He’d whispered sweet little things in my ear in between, telling me how beautiful I was, how perfect it felt to be inside me.

I was pleasantly numb between my legs by the time he came in me for the last time, as the grey British sunlight was making its watery way in through the blinds. Joel didn’t pull out straight away. He lay inside me, brushing a wayward strand of hair off my face. I closed my eyes for a moment – his gaze was too intense for me. It made me want to say things to him that I knew I just couldn’t.

“I’m impressed, Melanie Black. That was quite a night.”

I opened my eyes – he was still looking down at me. I grinned sheepishly at him. “Well, I do remember you offering to break me in once.”

He leaned down and pressed his nose against mine. “And here I was, stupidly thinking I was just teasing.”

“You only ever tease,” I responded, not being able to hide the frustration from my tone.

“Would you like me to be serious with you?” he asked me, his voice smouldering.

“Maybe, sometimes,” I managed shyly.

Joel smirked at me. “Okay, seriously, last night was pretty close to the best night of my life.”

While that was incredibly flattering, it was making it even harder not to say those things that I didn’t want to say … couldn’t say to him.

“We’d better get moving – we’re flying home this afternoon,” I said instead.

With a sigh Joel moved off me. I felt suddenly self-conscious about being naked around him, but not because I didn’t want him looking at me. He’d just spent the whole night exploring my body more thoroughly than anyone ever had before. But it was more than just physical nakedness; I felt like he’d exposed things inside me that I wasn’t ready to be fully aware of.

I escaped to my bedroom and took a shower, got dressed and stuffed everything into my suitcase. When I couldn’t find any other excuse to hide away in there, I steeled myself and joined him in the kitchen.

Joel was cooking a vegetable omelette. It smelt great. I felt almost timid as I poured myself a glass of juice. I fought an insane urge to kiss him as he smiled at me from the fry pan, to run my hands around his waist and rest my head against his back. What held me back was the fact that he didn’t seem to be having any uncontrollable urges to touch me.

I couldn’t handle the silence any longer.

“Okay, so what do we do now?” I asked in my most matter-of-fact tone. Joel served the breakfast out onto two plates and carried them to the table. I followed.

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