“Do you want me to touch you?” I asked, pressing my forehead down to hers, still being taller than her, even with her sitting on the counter.
She nodded, her breath hot on my nose.
“I want to hear you say it,” I said, another surprise to myself. I usually wasn’t a talker during foreplay or even sex. But all I wanted to hear was my name on her lips, again, hear her say how much she fucking wanted me. This beautiful young creature who could have anyone, I needed her to tell me she fucking needed me.
“I want you to touch me, Brooks,” she whimpered, taking my mouth with an unexpectedly passionate kiss. A kiss for a lover, not for a casual fuck.
“Say it again,” I said, running one of my hands up her polo, cupping her soft breast over her bra. She filled my palm so perfectly, and I squeezed, gently.
“Oh,” she moaned to my touch, trying to keep her eyes open, to catch her breath so she could speak. “I, I want you to touch me, Brooks. Please, please touch me,” she begged. Then she leaned in, breathing out all at once – “After I read your poem, a storm starting building inside me everywhere, for you.”
Fuck. Whether she knew it or wanted it, I had to have her. I needed her to be mine.
Slowly, I drug the back of my knuckles up the inside of her thigh, smooth and silky. She watched me through heavy lids, her nipples in spikes under that white shirt. Touching her felt so fucking good but watching her watch me was an entirely different thing. It was erotic and that wasn’t a word I thought would ever be a part of my life, sex or otherwise.
When I got to her panties, I slowly slipped one finger under the elastic, running it up and down, only slightly touching her bare pussy. She was hot and wet and when I looked down between her thighs, I could see excitement on her seam, dark on those little panties, unable to be hidden. My mind raced with the heady realization: I knew myself, and now that I’d felt her, tasted her—I knew no one else could please me but her.
Moving my face to the side of hers, my lips pushed up against her ear, I told her how much I liked it. “You’re wet and it’s making me so fucking hard, Britta,” I growled, letting my tongue drift up the underside of her earlobe, my finger now playing at the apex of her thighs.
“Oh my God,” she panted, her head dropping back, the bottom of her hair dragging against the marble countertop. How easily she’d let me put my hands on her, taste her lips and touch her. She wanted me, maybe only physically, but she wanted me and being wanted by Britta made a masculine, primal urge inside me come alive. And it made me want her that much fucking more.
Slowly, I drove two fingers into her wetness, my thumb coming to rest on her clit. God she was so fucking wet. And tight. So tight. Fuck, her sweet pussy would strangle my cock. As her breathing quickened and her hips began to buck gently yet impatiently against my hand, I could feel my generous length straining inside my pants. Sorry to suffocate you buddy, but not now. I need to please her first.
Knowing she was getting close, I wrapped my arm around her and pulled her up, tight to me, pressed my head down to hers.
“Open your eyes and look at me when you come,” I commanded, having never made a sexual command in my life. The commands I made were always business related, which paled in comparison to this.
Her eyes fluttered open and met mine, hazy and lust-filled. Tucking her lip in, she nodded yes, her cheeks flush.
“Say it,” I said, driving my fingers inside her, to the hilt, curling them deliberately. Her pussy was hot and tight, and her clit was puffy as I combed it down with my thumb.
“I’ll look at you when I come,” she agreed before kissing me unexpectedly, her tongue sweeping mine as I pulled my fingers from her, driving them in again with more force. She curled her fingers around the collar of my dress shirt and tugged until our lips were touching, her body trembling at my will.
Moving from my collar, she held my face in her hands, kissing me, her hunger staring me in the eyes. Though I’d asked for it, I’d never actually looked a woman in the eye and kissed her as she came. It was never that personal with anyone.
Until now.
9
Britta
Without saying a word, Brooks had full control of me, body and mind, the moment he opened his front door. And now I was on his kitchen counter, his powerful fingers pushed all the way inside of me, touching places no one has touched. He kneaded the back of my head as he held me, my hands woven through his short beard, our lips tangled in a frenzy of heat and passion.
He wanted to look in my eyes as he made me orgasm. Oh my god, is this really happening? And right my release drew nearer, he pulled his fingers from me slowly, leaving me hollow and aching with need.
He was teasing me, making me want it so bad I’d do anything for it. And he was right. I would. Even though I knew my job was more important than one-morning-stand with a gorgeous man, I couldn’t stop myself. Under his gaze I belonged to him, without limits.
“Don’t stop,” I panted, wanting nothing more than to feel his huge dick against my thigh while he filled me with his fingers. I could see his raging need for me
