She swallowed and then nodded, her eyes opening to his. She had been so certain he would push her until she gave in, but the gentle understanding she saw in his eyes caused a dam of relief to flood through her. "Maybe a little," she managed.
He cupped her cheek. "Come here," he said softly, guiding her while changing his position until they were laying on the couch with him on an elbow above her. "I will make you one promise right now. I will never push you into sex. Don't get me wrong. I will fuck you. So long and hard your body is going to cry in its sleep for me," he intoned with a smile as he stroked her hair back, "but I will never move us to that. Understand? When you're ready to try, you are going to have to ask.
"Now, I might touch you," he mused as the hand that had been fingering her hair slid down her jaw and neck, the tips of two fingers gliding over her skin, creating a burn in her stomach as they went. "I may kiss you," he added as he dipped down to run his lips over the smooth skin of her neck, his tongue snaking out to taste her just a little. Her skin prickled under the erotic scratch of his stubbled jaw juxtaposed against his tongue's velvety smoothness. "I may even make you come," he said as his leg, which had been atop hers, slid to fall between her thighs and press at the juncture of her body. He pressed it up into her and felt something hot in his belly when her eyes closed and her bottom lip quivered. "But I am not going to fuck you until you beg. Okay? So relax and enjoy." And then his mouth was smooth over hers, like a thousand pleading caresses.
She could taste pizza and beer on his tongue, coupling his flavor for a new experience. And as he slid his tongue sensuously against hers, she felt his stray hand draw a slow and winding path down her front, creeping lower and lower over her chest. She squealed in surprise when a fingertip grazed over her nipple, making it hard as a tiny, aching pebble. Once at attention, his fingers traced all the contours of her breast, applying varying amounts of pressure, coming close and circling around the sharp nub, but never touching it again.
Alessa was past near-discomfort, she was in full-blown ache, and as her mouth was still occupied by his, she could only direct him as she wanted by twisting her body into his touch. And when he still did nothing to ease the ache, she boldly pressed herself up into his hand demanding his firmer touch. "Mm, something you needed, Sweetheart?" he teased in a deepened voice that thrilled her to the pit of her stomach. He didn't wait for her answer, but continued kissing her.
"You're making me hurt," she whispered through his kiss.
"Am I?"
"Yes, stop playing with me," she managed to instruct a little more firmly. Never, with all the stories she had read or written, had she felt this aroused. There was nothing as blissful as the real touch and warmth and taste and sound of another person, and she knew she had been a fool to ever think all this desire and pleasure was a product of mass delusion.
She placed her hand over his, pressing it firmly into her breast, squeezing it. The ache became sharp, satisfied and intensified all at once. She hissed at the pleasure before allowing Denny to kiss her more ravenously.
"Oh, is this what you needed?" he teased in a husked voice. "Why didn't you just tell me, Sweetheart? I'd be more than willing to make you happy. How's this?" he asked as his grip tightened before he twisted and kneaded.
She whimpered into his mouth, the pleasure of his firm touch shooting straight into her sex, now flooding with all the blood from her brain. "So good," she whispered, still pushing up against him. Her thighs had momentarily parted to allow his thigh to fit even more tightly against her sex before they squeezed together to hold him securely in place.
Denny's fingers drew up the fabric of her night shirt until his hand lay atop the warm, soft flesh encased in a black satin bra. "Why didn't you take this off?" he murmured, pulling away to look down at her doubtlessly magnificent chest for the first time.
Quickly, her hand reached up to grab the bunched shirt to pull it down and hide herself, but he stopped her, not allowing her to hide from him. Enough space existed between her head and the arm rest, that he was able to take both her arms and pull them to rest above her head. He held them in place with one hand so the other was free to caress her skin as he wished. Alessa tugged only minimally, only enough to feel the strength in the grip of the one arm, and felt herself light up.
When his fingers trailed between her breasts, she twisted slightly, as if to move him off. He looked up at her questioning. "What's the matter, Sweetheart?"
She stared at him pensively, her face burning from the flush of arousal and embarrassment he had caused. She swallowed, but couldn't answer. "Afraid?" he asked. She nodded slowly, as if she knew she shouldn't be, but couldn't help it all the same. "Can you try to trust me? Can you let me make you feel good?"
Her stomach cramped with intense arousal just at his question, let alone what he would actually
do
to make her feel good. Again, she slowly nodded apprehensively, and controlled her body to lie still beneath him.
Much to her consternation, his eyes held a wicked gleam as he lifted two fingers to her mouth and placed them on her lips. She opened her mouth slowly, afraid of his intent. His fingers slid slowly in and he pressed against her tongue, stroking it sensuously as he might do with his tongue when he kissed her. Her body responded mindlessly, needing no thoughts to follow his lead. And as she closed her lips around those two digits, she suckled a little. The surprising action caused his hips to jerk forward into her crotch, which in turn made her moan around his fingers.
When Denny was sure his fingers were wet enough, he pulled them slowly free, wetting her bottom lip as they went. His hand was talented enough to find her breast and the silky material covering it without breaking eye contact with her. Holding her gaze, he peeled down the fabric and placed those two wet fingers over her nipple. He smiled victoriously when she took a deep breath as her eyes slid shut and her head rolled back so she could arch against him like a sensuous goddess.
He allowed his gaze to wander down to her chest and felt a throb in his penis at the sight of her pink areole and taut little nipple. Suddenly his mouth was watering and he leaned down. She must have felt his movement because she looked back down at him, watching her rising chest and the small space between her skin and his face. And then his tongue slid slowly forward to lathe the little bud that seemed to strain up to meet him.
The sensation was like a delicious itch crawling deep inside of her, forcing her chest to rise higher to reach him. The scene was too erotic to watch and so she dropped her head back, allowing him, for the moment, complete control of her body. He continued to lick and nibble the delicate tissue. And then she felt his sharp front teeth gingerly bite just the thinnest layer of her skin at the underside of her nipple, and then directly at the very top, a sharp painful pleasure that caused her to cry out. Before she could respond, he had engulfed the whole of her areole in his mouth and licked and sucked, pulling that thread all the way from the nub of her sex, through her body, and out her breast. Her hands were fists, causing her nails to bite into her palm, the pain counterpointing the pleasure exploding from her chest.
As he suckled and licked her supple breast, Denny realized he was moving against her, rubbing his thigh into her core as he pressed his own arousal into her hip. He either needed to stop the maddening foreplay to regroup or he needed to do something about at least one of their situations.
"Alessa, Sweetheart, will you let me touch you?"
Her head lolled to the side before her eyes fluttered open. She finally looked at him, processing his request. "I thought you were touching me," she asked dazed.
He loved her husky voice when she was aroused. He chuckled morosely. "No, love, I mean, let me touch you
here
," he corrected, his hand sliding down between them to cup her mound. Again she drew in another sharp breath at not only the discomfort of someone's hands on her sex, but at the exquisite sensation it produced. "Let me make you come," he whispered, his eyes pleading.
She gave a half-jerk of her head, as if she were about to refuse, but stopped, her concern-filled eyes searching his. "I-I don't know. I don't know if I'm ready for that."
He swallowed, his body pulsating with aching desire. "I understand, but if that's the case, then I think maybe we should stop for a while. I want you too damn much; I have a feeling I'm about to embarrass myself," he informed her with a self-deprecating grin. "Fuck," he groaned with a chuckle of misery as he sat up from her, planting his elbows on his knees as he rubbed his face, the desire still too thick in his blood. "Come on, why don't you go freshen up in the bathroom and I'll get us started on those root beer floats. That's assuming you like root beer. I also have Coke."
The transition had happened so fast she was still laying on the couch panting, mildly disoriented and eternally bereft. Maybe she had said the wrong thing, because at that moment, no amount of ice cream could replace her need for one good orgasm. Somehow she managed to find her voice, looking up at him before she tugged down her tank top and swung herself to sit up. "No, root beer is fine." She stood but wobbled. Thankfully, his hands grabbed her shoulders, keeping her upright. "Thank you," she said in a whisper, feeling drunk as she walked to nearest bathroom. She missed watching him walk to the kitchen, rather stiff with a cowboy's gait, his own erection making the task painful.
