This is just the sex scene from a novel I am writing. I worked hard on it, and am very satisfied with how it turned out. Enjoy.
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"Peter," she sighed when his hand covered the apex at her thighs and pressed so that her butt settled against his crotch. She could clearly feel the pressure of his erection pressing at the small of her back and it sent a delicious little thrill through her.
"I know," he murmured, propping himself up on an elbow and moving aside her hair with the other hand. He gently kissed the back of her neck. "But I don't care. I want this." His lips moved, brushed her shoulder, his teeth biting into the soft flesh and making her gasp. His palm made slow, circular motions over her pelvis, and her toes curled, then flexed at the sensation. She could feel his heart thudding against her back, wondered if he could hear hers. It was a jungle beat in her ears, and that warm, most secret part of her that men have dying to get back to since they slid from it in birth was pulsing to its rhythm.
Peter slipped his knee between her legs, slid it up until it pressed against her. Her heat enveloped him. He closed his eyes, pressed his face into the fragrant curve of her neck when her breath hitched, her back arched. His hand slid up her torso, brushed the underside of her full breasts. He'd always liked a woman with curves. They were so much softer, so much...warmer, somehow. There just seemed to be more to explore, to discover.
Slowly, inch by inch, he worked her night shirt up, slipped his hand beneath and cupped a naked breast, scrapping the nipple lightly. It budded into his palm, exquisitely sensitive. He shuddered as Eulalia gave a catching gasp, her fingers flexing where her hand lay fisted in front of her face.
She stared into the darkness, not blinking, awareness in every pore of her being. She didn't want to breath, didn't want to do anything that might detract from what Peter was doing to her. Every nerve ending was sizzling, every breath inhaled that subtle, masculine scent that was Peter. She lay tense, expectant, waiting for... she didn't know what. Just waiting.
Peter moved his knee a fraction, rubbed it against her crotch, felt her wetness through her panties. He squeezed her breast, weighed it, then brushed a thumb over the nipple. She gasped, shifted away from him, shocked at the intensity, then settled back against him.
"Shh," he whispered, nibbling her collarbone and massaging her breast. "Just close your eyes and feel."
How could she do anything else. Her body was one throbbing nerve, bombarded by a hundred sensations. Except she wouldn't close her eyes, couldn't. Her vision was blurry around the edges now, as his knee rubbed continuously, but she couldn't close them. Couldn't.
He rolled her nipple between his thumb and forefinger, moved up to nibble at her earlobe, and pressed his knee harder into her. She groaned and shuddered, and the hand she had kept fisted by her face moved down to her thigh, where it gripped once, then lay on the bed, then gripped again. He nuzzled the soft skin behind her ear, flicked his tongue out to wet it and nip.
She cried out.
It was insanely arousing, his lips on her ear, and it caused her skin to flush hot then cold. She wanted to squirm, to make the wonderful feelings rising in her stop. There had to be an end. When would it end?
Her hands gripped her thigh again, biting into flesh. Her abdomen and chest tightened suddenly, and a swell of emotion pushed at the lips she had pressed closed. Her world exploded and a cry burst out. Her body convulsed; she pushed down on Peter's knee and ground against it, gasping out in stunned delight as her vision went red, then faded to grey.
A helpless groan slipped out when the glorious feelings lessened, and she took several deep, gulping breaths. Her heart thundered beneath Peter's hand, the knots in her stomach loosened marginally. "Oh my god," she murmured, dazed, still staring at the wall. Peter chuckled and nuzzled her ear again. She 'hmm'ed languidly and closed her eyes, bringing her hand up to touch his cheek.
"Peter," she sighed, and turned in his arms, her lips searching for his. "Peter," she murmured again, into his mouth, and wrapped her arms around him, holding him close.
Peter moaned and thrust his hips against her. She shuddered and struggled to untangle their legs so she could dangle one over his hip, opening herself to him. His hands roamed down her back, stroking along her spine, scraping lightly up her ribs and then reaching down to grip her buttocks and pull her still closer to his heat.
They lay like this for a time, kissing leisurely, exploring each others mouths. After a while however, Peter's restraint began to fray, and the gentle loving of Eulalia's mouth was no longer enough. He craved the sweeter, more secret depths of her. Needed to be inside her.
His brain said anyone. Any body would do. But his heart said her. Her body. He wanted her.
He rolled her to her back, and her legs opened automatically so he could settle between them and push his bulge against the throbbing core of her femininity. She took a gasping breath and arched her back, thrusting her breasts into his face. Accepting the unexpected offer, he kissed her through her shirt, sucking until the fabric was dark from moisture and she was writhing beneath him. Slowly he began to undo each tiny button, pressing feather-light kisses to every creamy inch of skin that was exposed little by little. Her hands stroked his shoulders as he slowly undressed her, her gaze watching him closely as he discovered her body. Finally he slipped the material aside and gazed upon her naked breasts. His breath caught in his lungs. His chest tightened.
By now the moon had moved across the night sky and shone directly on the west side of the house. Moonbeams streamed through their window shades, casting the bed and the two figures on it in silver light. Eulalia's skin glowed ethearally. His throat was corded with tension. His body screamed for her. He shook with the power of the desire that suddenly roared through him. His hands fisted on the lapels of her silk pajama top. He held himself completely still and struggled for control.
She felt him quaking in her arms, and it sent little tingles along her spine. After a moment, however, she realized that he was still staring at her breasts, that he hadn't moved or said a word. She also discovered that his shoulders and back were rigid, and she could hear his labored breaths. She bit her lip in uncertainty and stilled her hands of their languid massaging.
"Peter?" she queried gently, and gasped in surprise as his gaze whipped up to hers. His eyes were blazing with an inner light, the skin on his face was pulled taut over the bones, his lips were a hard line beneath his nose. She held her breath and waited, like a rabbit hypnotized by a viper's gaze, for his next move.
He growled and closed his eyes and said in a rough, gravelly-sounding voice, "You're so beautiful. Your beauty steals my breath." Then he lowered his lips to the dark, small crest of one of her breasts and kissed her softly.
The dread his stillness had evoked washed from her body in a rush of breath and she smiled, closing her eyes to savor his tender caresses. He nuzzled between the silky mounds, tongued the tiny beauty-mark on the underside of her left breast, and rubbed his nose playfully against one hard nipple. She smiled and brushed her hand over his hair briefly. She was never still, never silent. She didn't lay placidly beneath him. Inexperienced she was, yes. Innocent, in the purest form of the word, absolutely. But her passionate nature would not allow her to simply lay there and not participate. Her hands roamed over him, touching everywhere they could reach, igniting little fires and moving on. Her legs rubbed continually against his, calves, feet, knees pressing and stroking and touching. She couldn't stop touching him. Her breathing grew quicker, her hips started pushing up against Peters in desperation. Oh god she was desperate for him.
"Peter, please." She murmured, threading her fingers through his hair and gripping his scalp tightly.
His body quivered again, and then his mouth turned hot. His teeth scraped over a nipple, and she cried out in shocked pleasure. Then he moved down her torso, nuzzling the underside of her breasts one last time before pressing open-mouthed kisses across her ribs, then working his way down to her navel, where his tongue delved into the perfect hollow of her belly-button. Everything's perfect on her, he thought. I must be losing my mind.
His hands reached down and gripped her hips, then smoothed down her thighs. Wrapping his hands around her knees he spread her legs wide and continued his kisses down her body. He paused to press his face to her pubis, inhaling deeply and nuzzling gently. She gasped and twisted in his grasp. He held her still and focused his arousing ministrations to her inner thigh. First he kissed the right one, scraping his teeth down then up it, licking the smooth, satiny flesh, nipping at the back of her knee. She cried out mindlessly and panted his name. Then he moved to the left thigh, repeating the process. His hands slipped beneath her and gripped her buttocks. He squeezed and massaged them as he kissed every inch of her flesh. But when he kissed her where she burned and ached for him, she grew suddenly still and tugged at his hair.
"Petter, no." She said on a husky breath. Clearing her throat she said it again. "No. I can't. I'm sorry, but I can't. You know-"
"Shhh," he instructed, cutting off her nervous rush of words and smiling tenderly. "I know. And I understand." He leaned forward to kiss her navel again. "Don't fret my beauty." Then he slid back up her body -yanking off his shirt and tossing it aside on the way- and took her mouth hungrily, thrusting his tongue past her full lips and ravishing her. His hands slipped inside her panties and cupped her bare bottom. She murmured her approval. He lay more heavily upon her, and began to rub his entire body against the length of hers. His chest hair abraided her sensitive nipples; his belly pressed to her belly; his pelvis ground slowly against the wet patch of her panties, and his hands never stopped their kneading of her smooth, round buttocks.
