Page 11 of Changing the Playbook
I ease one finger in slowly, feeling her tight heat grip me, and I have to bite back a groan. She’s so wet, so perfectly snug around just one finger that my cock throbs painfully, imagining how she’ll feel around me if I’m lucky enough to get that far with her.
Think about that later,I try to transmit a message south.This is about her.
I add a second finger carefully, watching for any sign of discomfort, but she only moans louder, hips lifting to take me deeper without any hesitation. I curl my fingers, searching for that spot that’ll change her world—has any guy bothered before?—while my thumb circles her clit.
When I find it—that slightly different texture, that sweet spot—she gasps sharp enough to cut glass, her back bowing off the bed.
“There.” Her voice is a desperate, gasping moan. “Right fucking there.”
I keep my fingers pressed to that spot, moving in small, firm strokes while my thumb works her clit. She’s panting now, little whimpers escaping with each exhale, her hips movingerratically. My gaze travels her body, drinking in every detail, and locks on her breasts—those perfect pink nipples begging for attention.
“Can I suck your nipples?” I say.
She nods, and I shift position slightly, still keeping my fingers moving inside her with the same relentless rhythm, and capture one peak in my mouth. The second my lips close around it, she cries out, her inner muscles clenching around my fingers.
I suck gently, swirling my tongue around the sensitive bud while my fingers continue their assault on her G-spot. When I graze the peak with my teeth—barely a hint of pressure—her entire body goes rigid as a board. She clamps down on my fingers and comes with a shout, her back arching.
And I love it.
I love the way her nails dig into my shoulders hard enough that I’ll have marks.
I love the way she shakes apart beneath me.
I love the way her face contorts with pleasure.
I love the way she says my name over and over like a prayer.
“Oh god, oh god, Mike, fuck, oh god?—”
I work her through it with patience, keeping my movements steady but increasingly gentler, watching in absolute awe as wave after wave crashes over her. She’s magnificent like this, completely uninhibited, taking her pleasure without shame or restraint.
When the tremors finally subside and she stills on the bed, satiated and exhausted for the moment at least, I slowly withdraw my fingers. This earns me a small whimper, and I press a kiss to her sternum, where her heart pounds like she’s just played three periods without a rest on the bench.
She opens her eyes finally, looking dazed and soft and thoroughly debauched. The earlier shyness has evaporated, replaced by wonder. “Jesus,” she says.
“Good?” I grin, knowing the answer but needing to hear it.
She laughs—relaxed and genuine and musical. “It’s never felt like that before.”
“Like what?”
“Like my soul left my body and had to Apple Maps its way back.”
Now it’s my turn to laugh. “You useAppleMaps?”
“Shut up. My brain’s not fully online yet.” She shoves weakly at my shoulder. “Okay, your turn, how would you like?—”
“I’d like whatever you like,” I say, as I trace lazy patterns on her hip. “Want to go again?”
“But I just…” Her eyes go wide as dinner plates. “Again? Like… right now?”
“Yeah, if you’d like to.” I can’t keep the eagerness from my voice. “The female body is capable of multiple orgasms. It’s basic biology.”
“I’ve never…” Pink floods her cheeks. “I’ve never come twice in a row. Actually, most of the time I don’t even come once during sex.”
The words hit me like a blindside check. “You’re kidding.”
“It’s not a big deal!” She rushes to reassure me, like somehow her lack of orgasms is her fault. “Really, it’s fine, I?—”
