Page 39 of The Woman in 3B
Anissa’s eyes were still closed when I finally pulled away. Her tongue flickered between her slightly parted lips as if still tasting me there.
She seemed to have gotten choked up. I heard her quiet cough as she inspected the floor. “Glad we got that out of the way,” she mumbled.
I chuckled. “Such a chore, right?”
Anissa looked up again, this time looking more sure of herself, more aggressive. “I think I need a little more.”
My eyebrows arched in amusement. “Is that so?”
She stepped into my personal space and her hands fell to my hips. “Just a little more,” she murmured. The low drag of her voice affected me more than I wanted to admit.
“I think I can handle that,” I decided.
I leaned forward and cupped either side of her face. I brushed the pads of my thumbs across her thick, pliant lips. Her golden eyes fluttered shut. I could feel her uneven breath on my fingers. I leaned closer still, drawing our faces near until only a breath separated us. Her fingers tightened against my hips in anticipation.
It was she who eventually erased the final distance between our mouths. I heard a small grunt of surprise; it took a moment before I realized that I had been the origin of the sound.
She ran her tongue along the front of my teeth. I parted my lips and accepted her tongue into my mouth. She made a quiet, pleased sound that I’d been so accommodating. My arms circled her narrow waist, and I bent her backwards just slightly. My hands dropped to her round backside—which I’d ogled more times than I was proud of—and squeezed.
I pulled back, a little breathless. I didn’t get very far before Anissa was grabbing the back of my head and pulling me back in. “Just a little more,” came her plea.
Our mouths reconnected. I’d only intended on a single kiss, but the spark between us was building to a bona fide inferno.
I dropped kisses on her strong jawline and up to her ear. She tasted clean from her recent shower; a few scattered drops of water stubbornly clung to her skin. Her fingers remained firmly cupped behind my neck. They didn’t guide my movements, but assured I wouldn’t travel too far away. I kissed down the perfumed column of her arching neck and licked at the hollow of her throat.
Her greedy fingers gripped me tighter and her breathy command was music to my ears: “More.”
I slid her t-shirt off one shoulder and peppered the top of her bronzed skin with butterfly-light kisses. I sucked her skin into my mouth and bit lightly, not hard enough to leave a mark. Her contented sighs grew to full-throated moans. The noises vibrated up her neck, rumbling against my lips and tongue.
Anissa repeated one word over and over: “More.”
I’d left her mouth neglected and idle for too long. I pressed hungry kisses to her lips, slightly agape with uneven breath. I kissed her, far more aggressively than before. Our mouths crushed together and our tongues battled for dominance. I leaned my body into hers until she took a few stumbling steps backwards. Her backside connected with the kitchen counter, pressing her between my body and the granite island. I wove my fingers with hers and pinned them to the countertop. I licked and sucked at her exposed skin.
Her lower body began to move, hips rolling open and legs parting. She rubbed against me, seeking some kind of friction. I dropped one of her hands and used my free arm to grab onto her leg. I raised her lower leg and she wrapped it around me, pulling us even closer.
“More?” I breathed against her throat.
“More,” she panted back.
Her brief, confirming word was all the encouragement I needed.
My hand clamped around her exposed thigh. I slid my hand up her toned upper leg and slipped my fingers beneath the leg opening. I couldn’t help my own groan when I didn’t feel the anticipated brush of cotton, silk, or lace—only more skin. She wore no underwear beneath her shorts.
Her skin grew hotter and smoother and wetter the farther my fingers reached. I brushed against the connecting skin between her upper thigh and pussy lips, eliciting a sharp breath from her throat. I ran the tip of my index and middle finger the length of her outer lips, but avoided her slit. I stroked the shaved skin just about her hooded clit and barely bumped into the sensitive nub.
I had limited movement beneath her sleep shorts, a fact that seemed to frustrate her sooner than me. My hand was still up her pants when she began to wiggle the elastic waistband past her hips. I pulled away, but only long enough for her to rid herself of the shorts. Once past her hips, they dropped silently to the kitchen floor, rendering her naked from the waist down.
Anissa grabbed my right hand and brought it up to her mouth. She sucked my index and middle finger into her mouth and rolled her tongue around the two digits. She withdrew my fingers with a satisfying pop and dragged my hand down the length of her body, between her t-shirted breasts and down the center of her abdomen.
Her lower lip tucked beneath her top row of teeth and she rose up slightly on her toes as she guided my hand towards her pussy. I could only watch in equal measure of astonishment and arousal as she maneuvered my two fingers. She stroked my fingers over her clit, again and again. I kept my fingers rigid while she masturbated against my hand. Her inner thighs and pussy were already slick with her juices.
I was completely mesmerized until I heard her second word of the young evening: “Inside.”
I still wasn’t in control of my hand. She positioned my fingertips against her entrance and canted her hips forward until I penetrated her. I watched, wide eyed, as her pussy lips parted and then swallowed my fingers. I bit down so hard on my lower lip, I thought I might draw blood. Anissa only dropped my hand when I was one knuckle deep. I flexed my wrist and dipped inside another inch.
My fingers were enveloped in her soft, liquid heat. I pulled my two fingers out, just barely, before plunging back in. I kept my fingers still, but flexed my wrist periodically so she would feel me. My unoccupied hand slipped beneath her t-shirt, and I began to roll her tightening nipples between my fingers.
The kitchen wasn’t the ideal location for what I wanted to do to her—although the imagery of clearing away everything that cluttered the granite island with one aggressive sweep of my hand did send a tickle down my spine and cause my thighs to clench. I didn’t want to risk another journey to the second floor where I worried the distance would cause us to reconsider or at least make me lose my momentum.
