Page 51 of The Sweet Spot
Her hands are on my back, gripping and stroking me. She drags her nails down my spine. And the sweet sounds she’s making are driving me crazy.
When I finally reach her breasts, I draw a nipple into my mouth and suckle it. With a soft cry, she arches her back and pulls me closer. “Chris!”
My name has never sounded so good coming from anyone’s lips.
I switch to her other breast and place a soft kiss on that lush, pouty tip. I lick my way down her torso and nuzzle her belly. Slowly, I keep moving down, giving her time to get used to my touch, wanting to be sure she’s okay with this.
When my tongue reaches the junction between her legs, she stiffens, her muscles going taut.
I lift my face and catch her gaze.
Are we okay? Do you want me to stop?
Her only response is to grip my hair tightly and raise her hips. She wants this as much as I do.
With a loud groan, I lose myself in her. I wallow in a fantasy come true. I use the fingers of my good hand to open her up, and then my tongue shows no mercy, licking and teasing and tormenting.
As my tongue worships her clit, my index finger slides lower, through her silky arousal, to tease her wet opening. Her thighs stiffen when I slip just the tip of my middle finger inside her, giving me a reason to pause. But the way she moans my name and how she claws at my hair are all the green lights I need. Afterwaiting and praying for this moment for so long, I won’t risk fucking it up over mixed signals.
Her thigh muscles finally relax, and she lets her legs fall wide open. I coat my finger in her slick arousal to ease the way, and then I slowly slide my finger into her, searching for her sweet spot. When I find it, I stroke her there, gently, relentlessly.
She gasps my name. “Chris!” She sounds so surprised, as if she’s never come this way before. Her fingers dig into my scalp.
My finger keeps on mission, stroking that ridged spot inside her, and my tongue never lets up. Soon, her thighs are shaking. She’s breathing like she just ran a marathon.
“Oh, my God, Chris!” she keens softly. She pulls a pillow over her face to muffle her voice.
I imagine she’s keeping her voice down to avoid drawing attention. Granny’s bedroom is right next door to ours.
I know the moment her orgasm hits her. Her thighs quiver. Her pussy flutters around my finger. She bows her back, lifting her torso off the mattress as a garbled cry escapes her. “Chris!” Her body gradually gentles, and now she’s petting my hair instead of trying to pull it out.
Suddenly, she reaches for me, inviting me to lie beside her. I move carefully, trying not to jostle my right arm, which is on fire now, and settle down beside her. I’m half on her, half off, as I settle my mouth over hers.
We kiss for a long while, slowly, languidly. My good hand travels over her body, finally coming to rest on her breast. I gently roll her nipple between my index finger and thumb, and it tightens into a peak. As I take it into my mouth and suckle it, she moans beneath me.
My cock is a throbbing, aching bystander that wishes he could get in on the action, but we don’t have a condom, so he’ll have to stay in timeout. If we’re lucky, and we get a second try at this on another day, he can have his way.
When Jennie reaches between us and presses her hand to the length of my erection, I choke out a garbled cry. Before I can get out a coherent word, she’s stroking me through my jeans, her fingers curling around me.
My dick is throbbing, and it wouldn’t take much to set me off.
I lay my hand over hers, stilling her movements. “Honey, I’m about two seconds away from coming in my underwear.”
“That would be a shame, wouldn’t it?” she asks as she presses her hand to my chest and pushes me onto my back.
“What are you—” But there’s no use finishing that sentence, because she’s unbuckling my belt. “Jennie—” I gaze up at her determined expression to see a woman who looks like she’s on a mission to save mankind. My heart explodes. “Jen—”
She pulls my belt free of its loops, unfastens my pants, and kneels on the bed so she can tug my jeans and underwear down… all the way down to my ankles, which is when she realizes I still have my shoes and socks on.
With a huff, she unlaces my shoes, pulls them off, along with my socks, and drops it all to the floor. My jeans and boxer-briefs follow.
I reach out and touch her cheek. “Jennie.”
Her dark brown eyes flash at me with fire and determination. “Yes?”
“What are you doing?”
Her brow furrows quizzically. “Isn’t that sort of obvious?”
