“You’re thinking awfully hard again.”
He’s abandoned my breast to nuzzle my chest, just below my chin.
“Only sexy thoughts in this head. Trying to figure out how I can get your pants off. I think it’s next to impossible in this position.”
“Well, I have a solution for that.” He lifts me by the hips, flips me over, and lays me down on the couch. I am treated to the most delicious view as he stands, undoes his belt, and sheds his pants to a puddle on the floor.
His boxers are navy with tiny white polka dots all over them, but I am far more interested in the erection they are failing to contain. He moves toward me, his hands reaching for my panties.
“Nope.” I hold up a single finger. “Yours first. I am way too excited to see what’s going on under there. Boxers off. Now.”
Dax hesitates for only a second before reaching for his waistband and removing his last layer.
“Holy shit!” I clap my hand over my mouth, mostly to prevent any drool from escaping, but holy shit is the correct phrase to use here. Dax’s penis is glorious. Thick, hard. It’s the Christmas present I never knew I wanted. I picture it in a bow. It would need a very big bow. “Where the hell have you been hiding that thing? I mean, your pants are all pretty tight.”
Dax raises an eyebrow. Then he makes a second attempt to reach and remove my panties, but I squirm away.
“Seriously, Dax, your penis is glorious.”
“Gemma.” He looks up at me, his expression feigning annoyance as two locks of dark waves fall in front of his eyes. “I’m trying to get you naked over here.”
I brush the strands away and take his head into my hands. “I know. Sorry. That was just an unexpected surprise.” I brush my lips against his. He kisses me back, and I can feel the muscles in his back relax a little. We make out again, this time with only my lacy pink thong keeping us from both being completely naked.
Dax’s hand finds my breast at the same time his mouth meets mine, and I abandon all other plans. Part of me wants to stay like this for hours, kissing, stroking, touching, teasing. The other part of me still has the image of his penis burned into my head and can think of nothing but I need that thing inside me. Especially because every time Dax moves, I can feel it hard and ready between my legs.
“I very much want to remove these.” Dax’s finger slides beneath the elastic of my underwear. “However, you stopped me before, and I want to make sure you’re okay with me taking them off.”
“I am very much okay with you taking them off. My hesitation earlier was wanting to enjoy the moment while you took off yours.”
Dax lifts his head. His smile is all wolfish and sexy. “Then I won’t hear any complaints if I take my time.” He doesn’t wait for an answer but travels down the length of my body, stopping every few inches to kiss or lick until he reaches the elastic waistband. Then he moves to my left hip, dragging his hot breath over my skin as he takes his sweet time kissing his way across.
“You’re killing me, you know that?” I throw back the same phrase he used last night.
He ignores me and keeps kissing. “We are going to be at this for a while. No need to rush things.” And just to prove a point, he drags his tongue all the way back to the left and starts over.
All-night, slow, hot sex with Dax is exactly what I want. I am fully signing up for this activity. But I also desperately want my panties off and to be reacquainted with his talented fingers, so much so that my hips lift from the couch in anticipation.
Dax laughs. “I can take a hint when I see one.” He hooks his fingers under the waistband and shimmies my panties off in one quick motion. Then flings them across the room, where they join my bra on the lampshade.
“Nice shot.”
Dax bends down and plants a quick kiss on my lips. “I’m a talented guy.” And to back that thought up, his fingers once again find my aching clit. It’s better than I remember, the feeling of his fingers and the swirls of pleasure they elicit from my body.
I moan into his mouth. He responds with another soundless laugh as he dips a finger into the wetness between my legs. He circles my entrance. “Again?”
No actual answer from my end, just another moan and my best efforts at an uh-huh. He pushes in one finger. And as he starts to pump, he scrapes his stubbled cheek down my chest to my breast. When his lips find my nipple and suck, the sensation drives my hips from the couch. “Holy fuck.”
“Good?” he asks.
“Better than good.” I don’t have a word for this feeling. It’s pleasure and satisfaction and aching all wrapped up into one intense sensation emanating from my clit, and my breast, and everywhere in between. I’m so close to orgasm that it’s almost embarrassing. A guy lasting a minute would be shameful. For once, there’s a double standard where we women come out on top.