Page 34 of The Rival in South Africa
Alex pressed a kiss to my lips first before answering in deadpan, “Oh no. We’ll have to do other things.”
He reared back, tugging the duvet and linens out from under me. I raised my hips to help, and once we were both clear, Alex threw the covers back over us.
There was no preamble, no lazy meandering; Alex’s mouth was between my legs in an instant. I gasped, the shock of it warm and wet.
Alex liked to take things slow in all aspects of his life, and regardless of how fast his mouth had gotten there, he did not rush. He taunted and teased and slipped a finger in and then two until I was panting and shifting. Only then did he back off, kissing the smooth inside of my thighs and working his way up. His fingers stayed where they were, and I clenched around them.
My nipples were taut under the sheets, and Alex played with them, using teeth and tongue while pumping his hand.
“Alex,” I croaked out, “I can’t come without clit stimulation.
“Well,” he drawled, “right now, I’m not trying to make you come.”
I groaned and closed my eyes, letting my head fall back. Alex kept up the stroking, kept teasing my nipples, building me up. And then suddenly, he was gone.
I opened my eyes to find him hovering over me, his arms straight and planted on either side of my head. His lips were curved in a wide, naughty smile. “God, you are beautiful.”
My hands grasped both sides of his body, feeling the ribs expand and collapse underneath. “You say such sweet things when you’re torturing me.”
He laughed, dropping down to his elbows. “Is it really that bad?”
“So bad it’s good.”
“Can I keep going?”
I looked at the clock beside me. “We have five hours until we get woken up by the drums and our days are packed. We really do need to manage our sleep for the rest of the trip.”
“And then we go back to the real world.”
We both waited, silent for a few moments.
“Do it again,” I said breathlessly.
And he did, disappearing under the covers, sliding fingers inside me and applying his mouth until I bowed off the bed, just on the edge.
Then he disappeared, a breeze stirring around my heated body while he came back up. When he plopped down on the pillow next to me, we were both panting.
“Do I get to do this to you next?”
“Teasing me? Unlikely.” He grinned. “But you can try.”
He kissed me, told me how beautiful I was, how good I tasted, more sweetness until he decided it was time. Back down he went, and this time his attention was more focused. His tongue swirled, his fingers slipping in and pressing me exactly where I needed it.
I writhed against his face, the sheets slipping down and the cool air chasing goosebumps across my skin. The pressure buildup was intense, aching, and when he started to pull away, I clamped my thighs down. His breath ghosted my skin as he laughed between my legs.
“Shhh. Okay, okay,” he chanted.
When I relaxed, he dove back in and kept pushing me until my abdomen curled in and my body clenched around him, coming while great big waves of tension released through me.
Gently, he pulled his fingers out, then kissed his way up until we were eye to eye.
“You just have to be the best at everything, don’t you?”
“At making you come, absolutely.”
He lay next to me while I caught my breath, and he let my hand wander down to his cock to grip it. He was hard and heavy, a bead of pre-cum dripping onto my fingers. The heat was intense, and in a bout of energy, I pushed him down, rising over him and slipping him into my mouth, just like he’d done to me, sinking right into the feel and taste of him.
And with a muffled cry, he came. I swallowed him down, gently sucking until he twitched and pulled me up.
