It wasn’t long enough that I was down there for him before he was hiking me back up, helping me out of the clothes still restraining my ankles before he laid me back into the bed. He grabbed his sweatpants then, reaching into the pocket for something that he sat on the bedside table before he was crawling on top of me.
“That made you so wet last time,” he mused, trailing hot, peppery kisses down my ribs and across my hips. “Let’s see if it had the same effect tonight.”
He settled between my thighs, taking each one on his shoulders before he dipped his nose between them. He teased my clit with that brush before his tongue dragged soft and slow over my folds, and I trembled at how badly I wanted him to separate them, to dip inside and give me the connection I needed.
“Fucking soaked,” he confirmed, and he sucked my clit with tender care before one hand slid under his mouth and tested the wetness at my entrance. “Absolutely drenched for me, Kitten.”
I loved how he talked to me, how every dirty word made me arch and pant and ache for him. I wanted to do it, too, to talk back to him and make him feel the same. But I was shocked silent by every touch, every kiss, every warm lash of his tongue against my bud as he used his fingers to slowly spread my lips and toy with my entrance.
“Show me how you want it,” he whispered against the sensitive flesh. “Use my hand to fuck yourself.”
I mewled, chest heaving, and I watched through hooded lids as Clay guided my hand to his before dipping between my legs once more. He hovered there at my entrance until I pressed his fingers inside me, my desire so thick he slid in without much resistance, and we both moaned as he filled me.
“God, I love feeling that tight pussy stretch open for me,” he rasped, and I shook around his fingers as he withdrew them and pumped them in again at my grip’s request.
Slow and steady, he worked me open, licking at my clit in time with his fingers — though I controlled those. He went at the pace my hand around his directed him to, and it wasn’t long before I was writhing under his tongue and fingers, so close to coming I could feel the fire catching at the end of every nerve of my body.
“Clay,” I begged, and he knew what I needed without another word. He took control, his fingers pumping in and out of me in the same sort of rhythm I’d directed before they slowly picked up pace. His tongue kept time, and my fists twisted in the sheets just in time for me to come, my body shaking and heart racing far too fast as I exploded into a million little stars.
I’d only had a few, but every time seemed better than the last, like my body was learning more and more how to come undone and take full advantage of the pleasure Clay was determined to bring me.
I cried out with the last of it, trembling in his grip before I fell completely lax.
“That’s my girl,” Clay praised, and he licked up my release like it was his only meal before slowly crawling up my body. “I hope you know that’s just the first one tonight.”
I smiled, laughing a bit as my breath steadied. But then I was seeking him again, hands wrapping around his neck and pulling him into me for a deep kiss.
“I’m ready.”
Clay swallowed, meeting my warm kisses with his own before he reached blindly for whatever he’d put on the bedside table. When I heard the foil tear, I realized what it was.
My heart hammered to a gallop in my chest, beating so loud and hard I could hear it in my ears. I imagined Clay could hear it, too, because he paused with the condom in his hand, using the other to brush the hair from my eyes.
“We can wait,” he offered.
“No.”
I reached for the condom, plucking it from his fingers and kissing him as I blindly felt for his erection between us. When I gripped him, slowly rolling the condom over his length, he moaned into my mouth, hips flexing into the rubber as I continued stretching it over him.
“I need you inside me,” I whispered, rolling my hips to meet his. “I want you to be the first one to fill me, Clay. I want you to be the first one I feel like this.”
He growled, biting my bottom lip as he reached between us for my wrists. He pinned both by my head, leaning up a bit to take in the length of me as I panted and writhed beneath him.
“You want me to be the only one,” he corrected me, and fuck if I didn’t gasp out a weak yes in affirmation.
Clay’s eyelids fluttered at the word, and his jaw was tight as he reached between us and adjusted himself at my entrance. I kept my hands where he’d placed them, even with his grip gone, twisting my fingertips into the pillow at my head as I held on for dear life.