Incubus Dreams

I raised up on my knees, between his thighs, and the look on his face was worth all the effort. In fact, worth so much, that I had to do it one more time. Then I came up more shallow on him, so I could move better, thrusting him in and out of my mouth. Licking him, rolling him, sucking him, and when he was making enough noise, very lightly, I used teeth.

“Oh, God, yes, yes, please.”

I moved off him enough to ask, “Please, what?”

“More teeth, please.”

I frowned at him. “Most men think that hurts.”

“I’m not most men,” he said, and there was something about the way he said it that made me press my mouth back over him. I sucked him, pulling hard and firm, then forced my mouth down on the shaft, not as far as before, and bit him, not too hard, but harder than I’d bitten any other man I’d done this with. I kept my eyes on his face, so I could see if it hurt him. The look on his face had nothing to do with pain. His eyes were wild, and he said, “Harder.”

I looked at him.

“Please, Anita, please, you don’t know how long I’ve wanted this.”

It wasn’t my bits being bitten, but I was reminded that Nathaniel had once had no stopping point, no danger-do-not-cross sign. I could do what he wanted, but it was up to me to make sure it didn’t go too far. I was finally doing what he’d always wanted. I was topping him.

I went down on him fast and hard, and this time I bit him hard enough that my teeth closed around that thick, meaty flesh. I had a momentary flash of not theardeur, but of the beast, and its craving for flesh between teeth. I pushed it away, but I also came off of him and didn’t do it again. But I’d done enough, because his eyes were rolled to whites, and he was writhing on the bed. His hands had grabbed mounds of the sheet, and his body strained, and bucked against the bed.

I waited for him to lie still, though his eyes stayed like butterflies, eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks. When I caught a glimpse of lavender eyes between the fluttering, I stroked him gently.

I stroked him with my hands, until I had his eyes looking at me instead of the inside of his own eyelids.

He looked up at me, his lavender eyes lazy, and his smile was like the cat who got the cream. I wrapped my hand around that warm, thick, length. Wrapped my hand and squeezed. “I want this inside me.”

When his eyes opened, he said, “You haven’t had any foreplay.”

I squeezed him again, watched his spine bow, and his head throw back, sliding the long braid of his hair off the bed, like something escaping off the edge. “Trust me, Nathaniel, I’ve had foreplay.”

When he recovered enough, he said, “You’re not the only one who hasn’t gotten to touch someone below the waist.”

I closed my eyes. “Please, Nathaniel, please, just make love to me. I want you to finish what you started in the office, please.”

He looked at me, and there was something in that look that was very male and very grown-up. “You liked that, did you?”

I gave him a look, then said, “You were there, what do you think?”

He sat up, and I was suddenly surrounded by his legs, his arms. He kissed me, and the kiss was gentle, but not chaste. He explored my mouth the way I’d explored his legs, and ass, lightly, delicately, savoring it. But one hand was sliding down the front of my body, until his fingers slid over me. My body reacted to that light touch, but his hand didn’t stop. He traced a finger around the opening to my body.

“You are wet.”

“I told you so.”

He slid the finger inside of me and stole my breath. Then he pushed two fingers inside of me, and with the tips of his fingers found that spot. He flicked the tips of his fingers, just the tips, flexing them fast, and firm against that spot. And it was as if that part of my body had been waiting for him, as if all the work he’d done earlier, was still there, because those quick, firm touches, brought me. Brought me screaming, nails digging into his shoulders, and back.

He caught me with his other arm around my waist, or I would have fallen back to the bed. He slid his fingers out from inside me, and said, “Now, you’re ready.”

Since all I was seeing was the inside of my eyeballs, and speech was not an option, I tried to nod, but I really don’t think I needed to. As they say, actions speak louder than words.