His tongue was light at first. He traced her up and down, grazing her clit but never settling on it. Ian was slow and Cleo’s hands went to her nipples of their own accord. He paused in his movements to curse, and Cleo realized he’d been watching her. “Can I?” he asked, and she spread her legs further apart, unsure of what he was asking but willing. She just wanted. As his tongue ran electric over her clit, she felt two broad fingers push inside her. Cleo gasped at the twin sensations of movement inside of her and outside.
Her hips began rocking themselves of their own accord, and when Ian started to push against her a little harder, she was lost. The orgasm rolled up her spine and down her arms and legs, leaving awe and goosebumps behind in its wake. She grabbed his head to keep him there, and his tongue stopped moving but kept the perfect pressure for the orgasm to roll on and on.
Cleo lay back, her chest flushed and heaving. Ian hadn’t moved, his fingers were still inside her, his tongue flat against her. He moved his tongue gently, experimentally.
“I bet you could,” he started to say, but then stroked her clit again with his tongue.
He brought her to a second orgasm, so easy and fast Cleo could barely track it. It was almost so good, the pleasure as sharp and hot as the look on Ian’s face.
He rose to his knees, his face wet, and wiped it on his forearm. His cock was gorgeous, flushed purple against the muscles of his stomach. She wanted it in her mouth. Cleo rose up, licking her lips, and he held her shoulder. “I wanted to,” he started to say. She paused, her mouth inches from his weeping cock. “What did you want?” she asked. He groaned and cursed again. “That’s the best damn thing I’ve ever seen,” he gasped out. “But I don’t want to come like that. Lie back down.” He bit off the last sentence like a command. Cleo obeyed, but only because she wanted this too.
“Condom,” he rasped out.
“Pill,” she countered. “Negative, to… anything. Whatever. Can we just?”
He moaned in response. “Me too.” He slid inside her, and they both sighed at the pleasure of it. She was so ready for him, he moved to the hilt. She thrilled at the quiet slap against her. He held still and braced himself above her, the muscles in his shoulders and biceps standing out in stark relief. He shook from the effort of holding himself back.
“I want it,” she whispered. “I want it now. I don’t want nice. I want you.”
He started to move carefully, focusing on her reactions. She wanted to scream. “I said I wanted it now!”
Ian snarled and started to move inside her. Long, powerful thrusts rubbed against her g-spot over and over. Cleo couldn’t have held back the sounds if she wanted to. Ian suddenly rocked back and grabbed Cleo’s hips. He knelt, moving in her with thrusts that caused her tits to bounce in response. Cleo clutched the sheets, as the sensations rolled through her again.
She unclenched one hand to reach down and stroke her oversensitive clit.
“Yes,” Ian said fiercely, “do that.” She could barely stand it, the intense, almost-angry look on Ian’s face, the flex of his muscles as he moved, the way his hands locked her in place. She caught his eye and he grinned, feral and wicked. His eyes flicked between her breasts, bouncing with each thrust and her eyes.
“You’re the prettiest damn woman,” he said in awe. She wasn’t, she knew she wasn’t, but under the flame of his attention, she felt like it. She felt all of it: his intense desire, the escalating pleasure from her clit, the silken glide of his cock inside of her.
She came then, overloaded from the sensation of his cock and her clit and the savage need in his strained face. She felt the muscles inside of her stroking his cock and Ian started pumping into her harder, more erratic.
Ian stiffened above her, a long, low cry ripped from his throat. He came into her, and he was beautiful like that. He looked fierce, his teeth bared and sweat rolling down his face. Cleo couldn’t help but stare, her chest heaving.
He looked down at her, still coming, his eyes wild. She smiled, full of satisfaction and pride. She’d done that to this gorgeous, controlled man. He wasn’t quiet when he came. And she’d caused that. He smiled in return, feral fulfillment.
Ian slid out of her carefully and gathered her in his arms.
“That was…” he trailed off.
“Good?” Cleo asked.
His shoulders shook. “Good? Not even in the same universe as good.” His voice quieted to a whisper. “It was so much better than good.”
They were sticky with sweat and cum, but Cleo couldn’t imagine moving out of his arms. Usually, in her hook-ups at the bars, this is when she’d roll over and start throwing on her pants. But Ian locked her in the steel of his arms, but instead of feeling caged, Cleo felt freed. She had the sense she could do anything with this man, and he’d like it. Safe, she realized. She felt safe.
As if hearing her thoughts, Ian sighed in contentment, his breath ruffling her hair. No, not breath. A small snore. Cleo smiled again. She thought about waking him, but instead snuggled against his shoulder. Maybe Ian had the right of it. Maybe a small nap was in order. She closed her eyes, the warmth of Ian’s skin beneath her cheek, and resolutely wasn’t thinking about Ian’s semen drying on her thighs. She just wanted this for her. For herself. For now.
Cleo closed her eyes, and slept.
Chapter Nineteen
They had two weeks before the full moon. It was the best two weeks of
