Lori Wilde - It Happened in L.A.

There was a thump, then his hands were on her knees. She peeked to find him kneeling. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s no good. You’re just too damn pretty.”

“You’re thinking again. That’s not allowed.”

She opened her mouth, but he stole her argument by easing her thighs apart.

“Because you’re having a difficult time with this concept, I’m going to help you.”

Again she tried, but he stopped her with a look. Normally, glares wouldn’t shut her up, but his was accompanied by his hands lifting up her legs and slipping them on his shoulders.

“You’re allowed to make all the noise you like.” He leaned forward, adjusting her position and his. “But no words. In fact, I’m going to make sure you lose the power of speech altogether. So sit back and relax. Let me make you happy.”

Naturally, all she wanted was to argue. Until his fingers brushed up her thighs. When he got to the end of the road, he stroked her pussy gently. She closed her eyes as his breath warmed her delicate skin. Her head went back, her hands clutched the couch cushions. He won. So it wasn’t her life. She might as well enjoy herself.

The warm breath on the very edge of her thighs narrowed and then it was lips. The tip of his tongue, licking, nipping.

A fingertip slid slightly inside her, moving slowly, just teasing her with the promise of things to come. He nibbled one thigh, then the other, increasing the pressure against her clit so slowly she had to thrust up against him.

He moaned at the movement, rewarding her by concentrating on the one spot with tiny circles.

The nibbles stopped. He used both thumbs to spread her open. She held her breath as he found her clit with the hardened tip of his tongue.

Gwen gasped and her hands moved to the back of his head, fingers running through his thick, dark hair. It was as silky as she’d imagined, but she couldn’t focus on him for long. Not while he was doing such incredible things to her.

It had always amazed her how men loved to do this. At least most of the men in her life. She’d never questioned her luck, just accepted it as a delightful bonus. Paul’s low moans, his careful attention, his expertise told her this was a treat for both of them.

She just wished she could touch more of him. That body of his called to her. There was so much to explore, so many perfect parts. God, to cup that ass.

He sucked her clit between his lips. Sucked hard. It was an incredible sensation, one that made her cry out, clutch his hair. Straining now, feeling the magic start deep in her body. There was nothing else now but this, needing to come.

He captured her nub between his teeth and flicked the tip of his tongue right there, fast, like a humming-bird’s wings.

She let go of him to steady herself as her orgasm broke inside her, touching every muscle, making her see spots behind her closed lids.

She cried out, riding the wave, clutching his head between her thighs. Seconds went by in absolute bliss, then she shifted her butt, away from his tongue, her sensitivity off the scale.

When she opened her eyes, he was staring up at her, pleased with himself, with her. As she watched, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, then stood.

His cock glistened, his excitement as clear in his eyes as it was in his jutting erection.

“Sit down,” she said.

He didn’t question her, which was a good thing. It was her turn to stand. The first thing she did was find the condom. It was on the floor next to her foot. She ripped it open, but didn’t put it on him, yet.

Still quivering, she settled before him. He looked unbelievable, sitting on her couch, his legs spread arrogantly wide, his hips thrusting, his chest heaving. But his gaze made her look away.

She brushed her hands up his legs and thighs until she was able to hold him with both hands. One around his shaft, the other cupping his balls. All she wanted now was to learn the feel of him. To stroke him, to lose herself in texture and heat.

His moan made her glance up. His head had gone back, his mouth slightly open. Her body relaxed as she played with him.

Soon, touching him wasn’t enough. She took his crown in her mouth, holding him for a long moment. Then she swirled her tongue.

The sound he made accompanied a tremor, a stiffening of his body, and not just the part she had between her lips. He thrust just a little. She could feel his struggle as he held himself in check.

The taste of him was as unique as his scent. His noises just as singular. She closed her eyes as she licked him, long strokes with the flat of her tongue, all the way down, then switching her hands to his cock as she licked his balls which seemed to please him a great deal. His pleasure infused her with a flush of heat. A sense of power.

“Oh, God, Gwen.” His voice sounded as tense as his thigh muscles. “Please.”

She lifted her lips. “Tell me.”

He touched her face. “Nothing. Everything. Just more.”

She grinned and took his crown once more, this time she sucked until he groaned, determined to make him beg.

It happened quickly. He wasn’t able to stop the small thrusts. She did everything her mouth could do to him, her fingers playing the counterpoint. It was greed that kept her so busy, to make him thrum in her mouth, to force his gasps.

“Stop, Christ, stop.”

She pulled away her lips, although she couldn’t let go altogether.

He made her when he leaned forward to capture her arms. “Come, now. Where’s the goddamn thing.”

She grabbed the condom before he could haul her up. Slipping it on his moist erection made him hiss and the second it was in place, he practically lifted her to her feet.

“Here,” he said, letting her know he wanted her on top.

She hesitated, but he wasn’t having any of it. He had her on the couch a second later, her knees on either side of his thighs.

“God, I need—” He rose up to kiss her, his tongue fierce as it thrust.

It was both of them she tasted. Even as Paul kissed her savagely until she was poised above him. One hand disappeared from her lower back, and then he grunted and thrust up.

A moment of hesitation, making him strain for more, and then she gave in, not a surrender at all because she wanted him inside her. Filling her.

She rode him, controlling the pace, blessing her Pilates for giving her the strength she needed. His kisses urged her to move faster, harder, but she wouldn’t give in, not yet.

Her movements were purposely slow, but quick wasn’t the goal. Not when she could make him go insane with her squeezes, with the maddening tempo.

His hands were everywhere. Her back, her breasts. A brief grasp of her hair to steady her, then back to her nipples, where he twirled and flicked, ruining her strategic assault.

Hell, it was no use. All her finesse was gone, and it was all about the finish. Cunning man, he reached between them and found her clit. It did the trick. She was riding him now, full out.

With a suddenness that shocked her, he stopped. “Gwen, look at me.”

She shook her head as she squeezed him, urged him to get on with it.

“Look at me,” he said, and this time he took hold of the back of her hair. “Please.”

His face flushed, he stared at her, into her, as he kept her perfectly still while he thrust again and again until she thought her heart would beat out of her chest.

She watched his expression contort into a mask of pure tension, the fight between his cock and his desire to hold back one more second.

As he lost control, he drew her to him, his staccato thrusts rubbing her clit into an explosion of her own. She held on to him as she trembled, as her body spasmed. He kissed her face, all over, just mad kisses until he found her mouth.