Swish. Tap. Tap.
Knowing I have her undivided attention, I glance up and can’t help smirking at the rapid rise and fall of her chest. “Should we try a few of them out?”
She nods half a dozen times as I resume.
“It’s sad, really, that most men think of a tight fit as a reward, and for some, it’s inevitable due to the size and girth of the male anatomy, but not all are as blessed as others.” My own blessing agrees with a jerk as I make it a point to exhale along her freshly shaved skin, and goosebumps erupt. “But considering what a woman’s anatomy is capable of, a tight fit is often a sign that the prep work wasn’t done properly.”
Swish. Tap. Tap.
“There’s the inner thigh,” I scrape the razor up to the top of her thigh as she palms my shoulders to steady herself. “This crease at the top of it,” I run my thumb along the sensitive skin just below her bikini bottom from her ass cheek to her hip as her soft pants begin to fill the bathroom. “The armpit.”
Swish. Tap. Tap.
“There’s the ears, the stomach, and the hands.” Pausing the razor, I lift one of the hands resting on my shoulder and pinch her pressure point as I gently brush my lips along the entirety of her palm, including the pads of each finger. She exhales my name as I draw the towel from my lap and pat away the excess cream. Brushing the tips of each pinky along her newly sensitive skin as I towel her off, her eyes close when the first moan escapes her.
“Such a beautiful, sunny day,” I remind her of her fucking rules. Rules that hinder me from acting on any scenario in which my throbbing dick gains access to the heaven lingering inches from my face. Rules I respect and will continue to, but hate at the moment. She runs a hand through my hair as I turn her palm up, licking slowly along her wrist, catching her speeding pulse beating against my tongue.
“Then there’s the crook of the arm.” I demonstrate by sinking my teeth into the skin opposite her elbow, which earns me a more drawn-out moan.
Noted.
Bringing her other foot into my lap, I glance up to see the lust in her eyes. Her plump lips part as I tamp down the demand raging in my boxers.
“The bottom of the foot.” Roughly, I run my thumb along the arch. “The Achilles tendon,” I squeeze the back of her heel before moving up, pinching the tendon between my fingers as her nails dig into my shoulders.
“Between the toes,” I whisper heatedly, painstakingly brushing a finger between the soft pads of her grass-covered toes.
“The inside of the ankle.” Bending as I lift hers, I run my tongue along the outer bone to the inside before clamping down and sucking lightly. This has my name whispered with more urgency from her lips.
Noted.
Dispensing more cream into my hand, I run it up her toned leg covering every bit of skin. Her fingers dig into my scalp in demand. “Scalp, too,” I say, stopping her explorative hand and placing it back on my shoulder before making several long swipes with the razor.
Swish. Tap. Tap.
“Dom, please,” she whispers.
“Not in the forecast.” Feigning indifference, I run the blade along her vibrating inner thigh. Using my free hand, I palm her stomach, spreading my fingers in a caress before running it up her torso and stroking between her perfect tits. One by one, I move the triangle-shaped curtains covering her hard nipples, exposing them to the air steadily blowing down from the overhead AC vent.
“Obviously, the breasts, which is a more in-depth process . . .”
“Dom, I—”
“But we’ll get to those,” I cut in.
Swish. Tap. Tap.
Shaving the rest of the path away, I slowly massage away any remaining cream. The second I lower the towel, she takes a step toward me, and I palm her stomach, slowly inching her back. “We’re not done.”
Rapt, she watches me refill my hand with a small amount of shaving cream before I pinch the top of her bikini bottom between my fingers. Pulling up, I expose her clearly defined tan lines while wedging the material between her pussy lips.
The sight of it has my cock jerking again in time with her rough intake of breath. Hooking and holding the bound material with my pointer, I lower my thumb and gently brush it along the top of her landing strip. “The mons Venus.”
Using two fingers, I gently apply the cream on the sides of her bikini line before picking up my razor. When I press it to her skin, her breath stops altogether. “I need—”
“If only it were raining,” I taunt, making my first swipe.
Swish. Tap. Tap.
“We can—”
“Shhh,” I whisper, taking great care as I run the razor gently along the sides of her pussy. “Then we have the lips . . . but there are more than one set,” I whisper, “actually, there’s three. The ones you gloss, and the others,” I smirk up at her, “I gloss.”
Blue waves of fire reflect back at me, the torrent tide threatening to sweep me in. Chest heaving when I wipe her freshly shaved pussy free of any remnants, I feel the snap in her before she speaks.
“Fuck the weather,” she declares, straddling me on the toilet seat. She thrusts a demanding tongue in my mouth, and I deny her before swiping my own along her pouting lips. Taking advantage of the fact she’s firmly wrapped around me, I lift and back her toward my bed. Gently depositing her, I take a few minutes to revisit the spots she appreciated most before I start to tick off the ones I hadn’t yet gotten to.
The trimmer sounds up outside, giving me a timeline as I prop on my side next to where she lays flat. Chest heaving, pupils dilated, her body hums in response to every single touch.
“Where were we?” I ask, running a finger along her neck before sucking the skin behind her earlobe.
“The lips,” she rasps into my ear as I stifle another smile. After tracing her mouth, I slide two fingers between her parted lips with my order, “show me how wet you are.” She pulls them in deep, sucking feverishly as my cock threatens to self-destruct.
Fingers soaked—but knowing I didn’t need the help—I slide my palm from her breastbone, down her stomach, and into her bikini bottoms only to confirm it. She’s drenched. Gathering the wetness seeping from her core, I spread my fingers into a V and, with the pads of them, start lazily sweeping them from the bottom of her outer lips, tracing them to the top.
Gripping my head for a kiss, I deny her, and her back arches as pleas start to pour from her mouth. Taking special care not to graze her clit, her hips begin to buck for friction. It’s when I glimpse the sheen of sweat covering her that I know I’ve got her hyperaware and ready.
Bypassing her nipples, I suck the skin of her breasts—the skin less sensitive but still stimulative.
“Dom, please, please,” she rasps out.
“Trust me,” I murmur, watching my fingers as her pussy weeps for me, her chest bouncing as I start to trace lazy circles around her areolas, avoiding her taut nipples.
She cries out when I dip further in, tracing her inner pussy lips, satisfied as she thoroughly soaks my fingers.
“Like our filthy little experiment?” I taunt as she writhes beneath me.
“Oh, God,” she stutters, “Dom, p-p-lease, please!”
“Your clit is pulsing,” I whisper hoarsely, not bothering to hide the heat in my voice, my cock straining against her leg, “and that’s because you’re concentrating on where you think you need me to touch you. But you don’t. Watch my tongue, Cecelia.” The whole of her body shudders when I repeatedly thrash my tongue against her nipple. Her moans become more desperate, her legs shaking against the forearm that I’m moving between her thighs. Stopping my fingers, I use my pointer and dip a little further to rim the opening of her pussy before sucking her pebbled nipple into my mouth. A surprised gasp leaves her when she starts to come undone a second later.