Page 62 of A Real Goode Time

“You are to me,” he said. “And that’s what counts.”

I laughed at that, but then all laughter ceased as he dipped down to resume his kissing exploration of me; my throat, breastbone, left shoulder, then the right. Finally to the space between my breasts.

Yes, there. Please.

I wanted his mouth there, in the worst way.

I cupped my breasts and offered them to him.

He started to laugh, but it turned into a growl. “Know how bad I’ve wanted to get my mouth on these beauties?”

“Show me,” I breathed, need racing through me and erasing all sense, all control. I was lost to this, to him. This was all I wanted.

He showed me.

God, did he show me. His mouth was ravenous, and if I’d thought he kissed the shit out of my mouth, what he did to my tits was…pure worship. He kissed them all over, licked, suckled, caressed. One in both hands, taking it from me, laving his tongue over it, suckling the nipple into his mouth and flicking it with his tongue until I was whimpering, and aching and trembling.

“God, Rhys,” I whispered. “I don’t know what the hell you’re doing, but it feels so good I could almost come just from that.”

“Yeah?” he breathed, barely pausing to remove his mouth from my breast. “Let’s find out, shall we?”

I mean, I’d known I had sensitive breasts, but this was ridiculous.

The more he played with and kissed and worshipped my breasts, the more worked up I got. I was shaking, trembling, clutching the back of his head with my right hand, his shoulder with my left, hips flexing, and I knew, Iknewif I even touched my clit, I’d explode.

And Ineededto explode.

This morning had been…a precursor. Sometimes, my orgasms didn’t feel quite…finished. Like, I’d come, but not all the way. So I’d have to wait awhile, and then try again. Sometimes, it took three attempts to get an orgasm that felt like it was the whole thing, all the way, and when that last one finally hit me,ohhh shit—it’d blow through me like an atom bomb and leave me limp and senseless for a good ten minutes.

If he made me come right now, it’d be that kind of an O.

I was a little scared of it.

Oh god, my stupid brain. Taking over.

I pushed the orgasm away, along with my need, because I was afraid of how needy and desperate I was.

His mouth seizing my left breast took over my consciousness, and I whimpered again, because Miss Righty was way more sensitive than Miss Lefty. Like, tons more. So sensitive, in fact, that even an accidental touch would make me wince, and this kind of erogenous sexual touching was nearly too much.

Nearly.

Just too much to be exactly enough.

The whimper became a whine, and then a gasp, and he was following my sounds, doing whatever drew the most desperate sound, and now he was sliding his body lower on the bed, keeping his mouth on my right breast and one hand on my left, tweaking and toying with my nipple, and his right hand was sliding teasingly over my stomach, over my hipbone.

Yes, touch me.

Make me come.

Ohh shit, oh god, he was running a finger under the string around my hip, telling me what he was doing, letting me push his hand away.

God, it felt good, doing this with Rhys. Right, and good, and perfect, and everything I’d imagined it would be and more.

I didn’t want it to stop.

That triggered a niggling thought in the back of my head, but his finger was following the string of my thong over my navel, stopping, and going back, to my hipbone. Under again, and this time his fingertip slid along the outer skin of my labia, and I shook like a leaf at that touch, my hips pushing upward. Needing more, asking for more.

Ohh god. He drew his finger over the seam, then. Teasing. I gasped, and he dragged his finger down the seam parting the lips. I sang a note of pleading, hips lifting.