“Damn, your body is incredible,” he said, molding them in his palms. “Your breasts are so fucking perfect. They drive me crazy.”
I sank my fingers into his hair, my nails scratching his scalp when he flicked his tongue over one of them, and I totally lost it. I threw my head back, and the act of breathing escaped me.
He licked, lightly at first, and then fastened his mouth over the hard point, sucking, making a circular motion with his tongue. I growled with more need. I didn’t realize that he’d rolled my dress down completely until it puddled around my ankles on the floor.
He wrapped his strong arms around me, cocooning me within his warm, perfect muscles. A sob escaped me when he sat back, his mouth leaving my body, but he drew me closer, drawing me onto his lap until I straddled him. His erection, hard and insistent, pressed through the V of my panties, straight into my core.
And he kissed me again. Harder. Deeper. Deeper than I thought possible. The stubble on his jaw was a welcome pain, rubbing my chin raw.
In the darkness, the only sounds that could be heard were that of kissing, wet and insistent, and breathing, hard and fast and tortured. I straddled him, thighs spread wide over him, his hands jammed under my ass, caressing it, thumb lightly rubbing its way up my slit.
“How many times do you want to come tonight?” he growled into my mouth.
I bit his bottom lip as I considered the question. What was a reasonable number? I had no clue. I remembered how my teachers used to respond in school whenever we asked something they didn’t know the answer to. They answered a question with a question. “How many times do you want me to?”