(no subject)
Continued from here.
“Tease,” I growl gently as I grind myself against him when his hips buck forward from my attack on his nipples. Two can play at that game. I finally get a gasp and let go of his nipples only to cup his erection and stroke it ever so lightly through his trousers. “Like that, Wes?” Teasing him feels good, like this has happened before and we just forgot. Maybe I just wanted it to happen so many times that it feels like it did. God, it feels...
His hands are clamped onto my shoulders like I’m his only hope in a violent storm. Maybe I am. Not much help if I’m rocking and swaying out in the storm with him, but at least we have each other to cling to. I can feel his body heat rise as we play and touch and taste, and that alone makes me harder.
I move a little bit to allow him better access when his hands move to my chest and oh- His tongue. My hips grind against him, wanting more. The sucking. Torture. “More,” I moan, my hand curling around his neck, and running into his collar when my hand starts stroking. I pull him away to tug his shirt over his head and rip the cuffs like tissue paper in my rush to get to his skin and his mouth back where it was.
His body is like water and I can seem to get a hold of any part for long, and his hands are everywhere, making me dizzy, so that all I can do is hold on to him. His nipples are peaked and look so tempting, I brush his chest again, feeling the fine hair there, and graze over his nipples and then let my own wandering hands fall back to his crotch. I want to make him moan, make him swoon, make him feel. Make him feel like he’s missing an appendage when my hand is gone.