His voice thickened as his toes curled from the pleasure the swipes of her tongue were giving him. “I’ll say it until you’re used to hearing it.”
She paused, and he watched her struggle to gather herself. Then she slid her hands over his chest muscles and traced his nipples with both her fingers, lightly stroking the two small brown points, dark and aroused, his chest rising a little faster as she pinched them.
“God, I love your touch. I love the way you smile at me, in a way nobody gets to see but me.”
She shuddered as she bent to press her lips to his belly button, and his cock accidentally grazed across her smooth flat belly. He jerked and groaned at the tantalizing sensation. He was pulsing with need, the blood rushing in his groin, and a shudder wracked through his body at the accidental grazes against her hot skin. His nipples tingled under her soft kisses, the circular movements of her fingers.
His voice went deeper still, barely audible through his need. “I love that you’re strong and independent, but that you still give yourself to me like you trust me to take care of you. I love…” He groaned from the gut-wrenching pleasure of her pinches. “Your mouth … your hands.… you drive me so crazy. I love your eyes. Look at me.”
She lifted her glazed eyes to his, and he murmured in encouragement, his balls drawn up with need. “Try it. Tell me what you love. You love Davenport’s, Monica.”
She bit her lower lip and nodded, her eyes heavy and dilated.
His voice rasped in his throat. “What else do you love, princess?”
When she stared into his eyes, breathing from her mouth, with those white teeth gnawing the lips he hungered for, he found himself straining forward to capture them, which surprised her.
Her sound of delight stumbled into his mouth and Daniel swallowed it just like he wanted to swallow her, growling when he noticed she’d gone still on the bed, tilting her mouth upward in offering, not moving a single muscle except her lips on his as though she were the one tied, the one who couldn’t move or breathe. “Do you love the mouth you’re kissing?” he thickly whispered, licking the seam of her lips. “Tell me you love my mouth. My touch.” Me.
She pulled back only to breathe, then she grabbed his jaw and crushed his mouth again, silencing him.
He groaned, tangling his tongue fiercely with hers. Holy God, his chest felt about as wound up as his cock, the emotions bursting through him. She dragged her lips down the tendons of his throat and went to his neglected nipple. Pleasure shot to his toes when she ministered to it, making him grumble, “That feels good, baby.”
“Okay.” She moved down his stomach, his abs contracting harshly under her lips after each damp kiss. She added her hands and stroked over his rib cage, seeming to savor his strength and the taut skin, the hard muscles.
“That…”—he swallowed, bumping his head back as he fought a groan, his arms rested and motionless above him—“feels good, too.”
She went lower, and drew back to stare at his cock with eyes that felt like caresses. A milky drop had gathered at the tip, and her mouth opened to take it. She lapped it with her tongue. “Ahh, Christ.” His hip shot upward and swiveled.
She angled back to meet his gaze. “That feels … good?”
“Incredible.”
Lips curving with a sensual knowledge he found hot as hell, she bent her head, and when she kissed him fully on the tip, she pulled the next drop of semen into her mouth with that feisty tongue. He fisted his hands up above him, suddenly suffering in his restraints, unused to not being able to touch her, wanting to feel her hair, her skin, her breasts … throbbing to do all of those things and more, throbbing and pulsing as she played with him with her hot little mouth. “God, that feels so fucking good.”
She seemed lost in what she was doing now, her eyes only for his cock, her tongue totally monogamous to it as she seemed to be determined to drink every single drop of pre-come that came forward. He was leaking like crazy, drunk and fevered, as he wondered if she was going to leave anything for tomorrow.
Again and again he felt his wetness emerge from the sheer agony of his need, and watched her tongue twirl around it and pick it up. Her eyes drifted shut, and she moaned softly. Fierce tremors of need were running down his body. He wanted to be in her pussy and her mouth, both at the same time, his hands all over her. All. Over. Her.
She rubbed his hard thighs and then cupped his scrotum. He had big, dense testicles to match the size of his shaft—and he saw the way her nipples puckered even more as she fondled that part of him, those swollen, dusky little points looking about as juicy as peaches right now. His tongue felt restless in his mouth.
Her fingers curled into fists, one over the other, so that together they almost covered the base of his shaft, and as she slid them upward to meet her mouth, Daniel started pumping, losing it.
Her mouth was lava around the tip, her fingers and hands clenching him, and when she moaned as though his pleasure were her own, he just lost it. He jetted into her mouth with a harsh bark of pleasure, his arms straining above him, and when she drew back to watch him lose it, working him with her fists until he’d spurted every last drop, her eyes were dark and glazed with arousal.
“Danny,” she murmured, the name imploring him as she quickly unhooked his wrists and pushed one of his hands between her legs. She was on her knees at his side, almost thrusting her hips into his shoulder, clutching his jaw, burying her face in his hair. “Please, please,” she groaned, pushing her hips to his hand, rubbing herself against him.
God, how could I have lived all my life without you, Monica?
“Shh, I’ve got you,” he murmured, drawing her to him by spreading his free hand on her butt and anchoring her to his body, his other hand teasing his fingers into her pussy. As he watched, his chest trembled at the sight of the magnificent woman against him rocking her pelvis in trusting surrender, coming apart as soon as he fed her his two longest fingers.
She exploded with a soft cry, a cry he claimed with his mouth, and when she went lax, he gently gathered her to him, whispering to her, telling her he’d wanted to hold her for years, that she fit just right in the crook of his neck, that as she burrowed in his arms he could feel the peace in her body, the peace in his.
After days of torment, he felt the tendrils of sleep tugging him as he brushed her hair back and kissed her forehead.