On the next upward slide, I do the bridge to encourage him, lifting my hips off the bed so my pussy is closer to his face. I’m beyond caring about how worked up he was in the elevator, or how his jaw was doing that tic thing every once in a while. Now he seems better. Maybe my near nakedness calms him, like a sedative.
I toss my bra over the side of the bed and push my panties over my hips, but Randy covers my hands with his, stopping me.
“Not yet.”
“But I—”
“I’m savoring, Lily. It’s been thirty fucking four days. Thirty-four days since I’ve licked that pretty pussy of yours. Been inside you. Made you come. Don’t rush me.”
All it takes from him are words to get me close to the edge. I wonder if this is normal. I don’t think so. He’s like a snake charmer, except it’s orgasms he’s charming out of me rather than reptiles.
On the next pass, he breaches the elastic. He flips his hand and drags a single knuckle along my slit. I’m shaking like a crackhead looking for a fix. It’s insane. I bite my lip to stop all the words from coming out. A few random whimpers escape, but I keep the stilted phrases like “fuck me” and “oh God, I want to come so bad” and “I’ll be your sex slave forever if you’ll continue to make me orgasm like this for the rest of my life” inside my head. Instead of saying any of those things, I moan his name and continue with the random noises.
He shifts my panties to the side. I’m not sure why he doesn’t take them off—it’d probably be easier—but as long as he keeps rubbing my clit, I’m fine with how awkward this must be for him.
His erection is poking at the safety hatch of his boxer briefs. If my arms were longer, and I wasn’t already on the cusp of coming, I’d try to get a hand on it. Randy takes care of the problem by sticking his free hand down the front at the same time as he pushes two fingers inside me.
I release one of those high-pitched, helium gasps. All I want to do is throw my head back and let go, but I can’t take my eyes off his hand moving in quick, aggressive strokes behind his underwear. Why won’t he shove them down so I can see better? I can’t even manage the words to make that happen.
I notice that scar again. The one on his hip—cutting a straight line along his perfect skin and deep V. His hand shifts, and I get a glimpse of cock head. His fist, his big fist with his long fingers and the gorgeous tattoo that covers the back of his hand, is tight around the base. The head—oh, God—is thick and shiny and slick. And glistening, even though there isn’t much in the way of light to reflect off the wetness seeping from the tip. He’s getting off on getting me off, which is so, so sexy.
I know enough to realize Randy is a rare, special breed of man, which may be part of the reason I keep coming back for more. He abandons the cock stroking. Keeping my panties pulled to the side, he curls his finger and lowers his head. His mouth is on me, and I’m lost, lost, lost… spiraling down and floating up. It’s the most amazing delirium.
As soon as my senses and vision return, he removes my panties and settles one thigh between mine. I’m naked. He’s not. Those stupid boxers are still in the way. He rolls his hips, his erection pressed hard against my stomach. I want all of him between my legs. I want that hot, hard cock pushing inside me.
He’s propped up, basically doing a one-armed plank on a soft mattress. He splays a hand out over my stomach, easing upward and stopping between my breasts. His palm rests below my sternum, and his thumb and index finger spread across my collarbones.
He’s back to looking intense. “I’m so glad you’re here.” He drops to his elbow and bites along my shoulder, his warm, wet tongue on my skin.
I skim his arm, following the contours of muscle over his shoulder. “I’m sorry I didn’t let you know earlier.”
He makes a noise, neither positive nor negative, and finally shifts so he’s between my legs. All his weight settles over me. “All that matters is you came in time.”
“In time for what?” Uneasiness flutters in my stomach. I can’t hold onto it, though. I’m too consumed by the feel of him.
His tongue runs up the side of my neck, and he bites the edge of my jaw. He palms my breast, making a plaintive noise. “In time for me to get inside you.”
His fingers glide through the hair at the nape of my neck, and he cradles my head, kneading the back of my skull. Propping himself up on one arm again, he lifts his head, his breath leaving him in hard, sharp pants.
Dim light filters through the crack in the bathroom door, creating a pale line on the other side of the room. That and a tiny gap in the blinds provides enough illumination for me to see his heavily shadowed face. His jaw clenches, and he swallows thickly.
I place a palm against his cheek and feel the muscles jump under my touch. “Are you okay?”
He turns his face toward my hand. “Yeah. No. I don’t know. I just thought… you weren’t coming, and now you’re here. I really needed you here.”
A terrible, dark feeling takes root, fear pushing its way into my vocal cords, making the words tremble. “Well, I’m here now, so that’s good, isn’t it?”
“Yeah. I almost—I can’t—” He drops his gaze and bites the fleshy part of my palm. All the blood in my body rushes low as he shifts against me.
The knot in my tummy moves up to my throat. “Randy?”
He brings his other hand back to my sternum and presses the heel down, his thumb sweeping back and forth against the base of my throat. “I need to be inside you right now, Lily.”