Page 81 of Into The Light
"Ohhhhhh fuck, Noelle."
"Feels good?" I breathe. "You like how I touch your cock?"
The word drops from my lips, and excitement makes me shiver and shudder—I can say anything. He won't judge. He'll only encourage.
"Fuck yes,” he growls. "Love how you touch my cock. Feels so fucking good."
"I want you to come for me," I whisper in his ear. "Show me how I make you feel, honey."
Faster, then. I shove my hand down his length and then slowly drag it back up, rolling my thumb over the tip, smearing the clear fluid over him. Tease the slit with my fingernail, making him jerk and jump and growl. Another swift plunge of my fist.
He snarls wordlessly, hips lifting off the bed. "Gonna come soon, Noelle."
"Good," I say. "That's what I want.”
I don't know who I am right now, but I like her. Scratch that—loveher. I feel more alive than I've ever been. Like I've been asleep—or half alive. Bear giving me not one but two—at least—incredibly potent orgasms broke a spell, shattered chains I didn't know were binding me.
He brought me to life.
A ravenous, greedy, sensual, erotic beast has been woken inside me.
I can do anything. I can have him. I can give myself to him. Show him all of me. I can accept everything he is, and demand more because I can give more.
A thought percolates and takes root.
A desire.
A dark, hidden, dirty, secret fantasy—something I touched myself while imagining. Trying to picture what it would feel like if I were ever able to do that with someone. In the fantasies, the man was nameless and faceless, and the act was forbidden, sinful, and shameful.
Now…
The prospect of allowing myself to live out that fantasy with this wild, beautiful, immense, powerful, kind, wonderful man?
Excitement and wonder and desperate need thrill through me—I’m consumed. Shaking with energy, with want.
I slide my cheek from his chest to his diaphragm, slowly caressing his hot length.
His breathing is rapid and shallow. "Noelle?"
"Sssshhh." I twist to look at him. "Just enjoy it, Bear."
Heart slamming frantically in my chest, I slip lower. Lower. The plump, straining tip is right in front of my face, now. A bead of clear liquid dots the slit. I hesitate, and then stick out my tongue and lick it away. The flavor bursts on my tongue, unexpectedly potent. He groans at the touch of my tongue, and the ragged, desperate sound gives me the courage to go further. To take more of what I want—to give him more.
I kiss the tip, lips against the soft, tender, warm skin, flitting my tongue over the slit, earning me another raw, guttural moan. "You taste amazing," I whisper.
"Noelle…fuck." The disbelief in his voice sears my soul. “Feels so fucking good.”
His praise fills me with pride, further emboldening me to keep going. Give more; take more.
I hold his cock in my hand and part my lips, open my mouth. I taste flesh on my tongue, salty and hot and slippery smooth. His fingers dive into my hair, gather the long, braid-kinked tresses in his hands, clutching, holding, knotting, tugging at the scalp. The slight pinch of pain at the tug drags a groan from me—apparently, that's a thing for me, now.
I stroke his length from the root to my lips.
Down…and back up, so slowly.
Again.
Again.
