Page 99 of Saving Ren
“I’m hot,” I whisper.
“That is not news to me, Ren.”
That earns him a chuckle.
“I mean I’m overheating menopausal kind of hot,” I tell him through my laugh.
“It’s got fuck all to do with the menopause and everything to do with me and the effect I have on women,” he says with a wink. I narrow my eyes on him, and that earnsmea chuckle.
Rolling us over, I end up on top of him.
“Take your singlet off,” he orders.
I consider the consequences if I were to do this for a few seconds. Although it’s almost eight in the morning and the sun’s up, the day is dark and cloudy, so at least there’s no harsh sunlight blazing through the sheers at the window to highlight my many flaws and imperfections.
“I wanna look at you, Ren. Take it off.”
Feeling brave, I straddle him and without hesitation, pull my top over my head and toss it on the floor.
I watch him watching me. Raising his hand, with a featherlight touch, his fingertips settle at my throat, then, very gently, very slowly, trail their usual path down and over my chest, between my breasts. He doesn’t hesitate when he hits the rolls at my belly and just keeps going until they’re pushed inside the waist of my sleep shorts and his middle finger settles on my clit. I rock into it, rubbing myself against it, gaining the friction I need.
His other hand comes up to tweak and pull at my nipple, and I watch him watch what he’s doing to me.
His hips buck up, in turn moving his fingers against me harder.
“Take what you need. Make yourself come,” he orders.
I want to. I want to so fucking badly, but this is aboutmeshowinghimwhat he means to me, so instead, I pull his hand from my shorts, slide down his body, and slide his trackies over his hips as I go. He’s wearing no underwear and his cock springs free.
Gabe uses his feet to get his trackies all the way off, and as soon as he stills, I set to work.
Blow jobs have never been my favourite thing in the world to give, but I’m almost desperate to give this to him. To show him what he already means to me. Tonight, after a few wines, I might even get brave enough to tell him.
I stroke him a couple of times before flicking my tongue over the slit. This earns me a shaky hiss, giving me enough of a boost to take all of him that I can into my mouth.
I stroke with my hand, flick with my tongue, and suck with my mouth.
Gabe grips at my hair and bucks with his hips. Sometimes he controls the pace as he face fucks me, others he lets me take charge. When his bucking and groaning are almost out of control, he slides his hands to my pits, lifts me, spins me around, sits my pussy on his face, and pushes into the middle of my back until I fall forward and take him back in my mouth again.
This time, Gabe’s in charge of everything. While his tongue flicks and rolls over my clit, his fingers push deep inside me, his hand pushes down between my shoulders, his hips buck up and down, and he fucks my mouth.
When my orgasm hits, it’s almost too intense, I try to outrun it by lifting off him and slowing its pace, but he moves his hand from my back to wrap around my hips and hold me in place. My knees press into the mattress and against the side of his head as my entire body convulses. When I moan against his dick, it’s his turn to explode, and he fills my mouth.
Without giving either of us a chance to recover, he flips me to my back, spins his own body around, and is once again looking down at me.
Dark blue eyes shining, his look is still intense.
“Are we clear now?”
I nod.
“Use ya fucking words, Ren. Tell me, we together? You mine?”
“I’m yours,” I tell him.
“And who the fuck am I, what am I, to you?”
“You’re Gabe, my Gabe. Mine.”
