by L.H. Cosway
And what I wanted was to taste her.
I swallowed as saliva flooded my mouth, urging her into a new position. I thought I spotted a shadow of disappointment cross over her face, but I couldn’t seem to be distracted from my present course.
When she was on her back, lying before me, her arms at her sides, I licked my lips and lowered to my knees.
She made a small noise that sounded like surprise, and I glanced at her. Her eyes were wide and astonished, and she was looking at me like I was very strange.
I began lowering my head and she caught me by the hair. “Wait. Wait, wait, wait. What are you doing?”
“Let go.” I turned my head as much as I was able and gave the inside of her thigh a sucking kiss.
She gasped. “Are you . . . are you going to—”
“You said to do what I want, and I want to kiss you here.” I traced the pad of my index finger along the inside of her leg to her clitoris, rubbing a slow circle around it and opening her completely to my eyes.
She gasped again. “Oh. Okay.” Her fingers lessened their grip momentarily, but then tightened again before I could move. “It’s just that, I’ve never done that before.”
I lifted my gaze from her body and met hers. She looked panicked.
Sobered, I confessed, “I haven’t either.”
Her panic did not abate. In fact, my confession only seemed to intensify her disquiet.
“You—you don’t want me to?” I asked.
“It’s not that, it’s—it’s just that—I mean, I’ve never . . .” She frowned, and then cleared her throat before saying, “Wouldn’t you rather just have sex?” Even now, lying naked in front of me, apparently without shame, she whispered the word sex.
I breathed out, felt her shiver, and watched as a wave of goosebumps rose on her leg and stomach. Gazing at her, at the delectable expanse of bare skin, I realized that I was still fully clothed. Something about this, the difference in our situations—her brazen nudity, her legs spread wide, my kneeling before her fully dressed—filled me with a needful, thrashing possessiveness.
I licked my lips, turning my head to press a wet kiss to her other thigh, and whispered, “This is what I want.”
Threading my fingers through hers, I removed them from my hair while trailing my tongue along the line of her adductor tendon. Moving our clasped hands to either side of her waist, I finally lowered my head all the way.
“Will.” My name was a strangled plea.
I licked her opening and groaned, tightening my grip on her hands before letting her go and wrapping my arms around her legs, roughly positioning her, bringing her knees up to give me better access.
She didn’t taste good, not like food. No honey or strawberries or peaches, none of that.
She tasted divine, like salt and heat and the realization of illicit fantasies. A little dirty. A little tangy. A little sweet.
Sweeping my tongue out again, I gave her another savoring lick, then another. Then I sucked on her sensitive skin, using my lips and teeth to kiss and nibble. All the while she made these mindless noises, sounds of despair and elation.
Fuck me, I never wanted to stop.
Josey tilted her pelvis, a reflexive movement, and my hips jerked in response.
“Will,” she said, like she was in crisis.
I slipped a finger inside her and she gasped, her hips rolling in rhythm to my invasion. “Oh god, oh fuck, don’t stop!”
I didn’t. And she came. Loudly.
Josey screamed her climax and I opened my eyes to watch her. Fingers twisted into the bedspread at her sides, her knuckles white, her body arched, and then bowed as her interior muscles trembled.
So fucking sexy.
“I need—” she gasped, her hands lifting as though she were going to grab my hair again, to stop me.
Reluctantly, I lifted my head, evading her grasping hands.
Her breaths were labored, like she’d just run several miles. She looked tired, exhausted, spent, satisfied.
But I wasn’t.
Standing, I gazed down at her, at her drowsy eyes, her soft curves, her full breasts, and I unzipped my pants.
The sound had her looking at me, her stare growing wide as it dropped from mine to where I was pushing down my boxers. Josey took an unsteady breath, lifting to her elbows, a question behind her gaze and on the tip of her tongue.
I didn’t want to talk.
I wanted inside her.
I was close to mad with it, with the need.
Before she could speak, I wrapped my hand around her knee and pulled her closer, down the length of the bed.
“Will,” she whispered, falling back to the mattress, her hands searching for purchase.
Placing one knee on the bed, I grabbed her hips, lifted her pelvis, and with one thrust, buried myself as far as her body would allow. And again, it was everything, she was everything, she was hot and slick, silk heaven. I couldn’t think. Everything was in fragments.
More.
Josey gasped, closing her eyes, and then moaned, a long, low, keening sound. A raw sound, wild, mindless.
Deeper.
I moved, pistoning my hips, pushing deeper, spreading her wider. She made a sound like a little cry, bowing towards me.
Open your eyes.
I must’ve spoken the words, because she opened her eyes, a shock of blue, heated and frenzied. Her lips were parted and her gaze dropped to my mouth.
Lowering her hips, I leaned forward above her, grasping her hands and holding them down on the bed on either side of her face, all the while invading her body deliberately, giving her slow strokes, rolling my hips in rhythm with hers.
She was perfect, so perfect. Open and vulnerable. I wanted to last, but I knew I couldn’t, not much longer. I’d been thinking, dreaming about this for weeks, and being inside her, claiming her body was better—so much better—than I’d imagined.
Her eyes were wide with some emotion I couldn’t read because I was almost there. And her lips were right there, just beneath mine, the color of red grapes, of ripe plums.
“Will,” she whispered. “Oh god, Will!” She panted, moaned, panted again, and she was coming. Instinctively, my tempo increased in response, and her climax went on and on. Stars burst behind my eyes, a shock of electricity at the base of my spine, a freefall into her arms. I knew my movements were inelegant, clumsy, but I had no control to spare.
I had no thought of rules or boundaries, just of Josey. Rightness, bone-deep satisfaction as I lay on her, our bodies still joined. Maybe it was madness, but a visceral sense of belonging warmed me, feverish in its intensity. Not just that I belonged with her—here, now—but that I belonged to her, with no limitations on place and time.
Gathering her in my arms, I rolled to my side, holding her close, my lips at her neck.
Josey sighed, a replete sound that made me smile.
Leaning away—just far enough to gaze into the blue of her eyes—I felt my smile grow.
“Hello,” I said, thinking that I must’ve been crazy when we first met to have believed her anything other than stunningly beautiful. Yes, crazy and stupid and blind and wholly wrong.
“Hello.” Her gaze and answering smile were warm. She stretched, and I swallowed a resurgence of lust. “And how are things with you, William?”
“Great.” I felt my grin spread as my stare dropped to her mouth, my hold on her body relaxing.
Will she kiss me now?
Neither Josey nor I said anything for a long moment, her breathing slowed, as did mine. But my heart didn’t. It galloped on, all my intent and focus on her mouth.
I’d just had her, I’d just kissed her everywhere but here, I’d just taken her body, claimed every part of it, except here.
And I wanted it.
I tilted my chin.
Her breath caught.
I lifted my eyes to hers.
Before I could capture her gaze, she pushed against me, twisting and escaping from my lax hold.
I felt the loss of her, of her heat and skin, at once. Impulsively, I reached for her. But she just laughed, standing from the bed and evading my hands.
“Nice try, but you’re still not getting any of my cake,” she said, bending to retrieve the forgotten plate from the bedside table and strolling out of the room.
I stared at the glorious sight of her departing back until it disappeared from view. And then I blinked at nothing, because I was so fucking confused.
She left?
After that?
How—
“Your breakfast is getting cold!” Josey bellowed from the other room, breaking me out of my stupor. “Come eat something that’s not my cake or my vagina.”
Fifteen
@JoseyInHeels: When I retire, I’m going to become a muffin-walloper #forgottenwordoftheday #aspirationallifestyles
@THEBryanLeech to @JoseyInHeels: I’ve left my muffin-walloper days behind me