Page 38 of The Sun and the Moon

Sydney

Longing isn’t something I usually equate with having a hot woman between my legs, but that feeling underscores this lust, shading my ravenous need. Because pleasuring her body isn’t enough. I want to taste her soul.

I cover her lips with mine and am pleased when she opens them to my tongue, letting me in.

My hands work down her back, finding their way under her shirt, and I am happy when she breaks our kiss to let me ease the fabric up and off.

Her bra is black, simple cotton. Her breasts are perky and full, a good handful.

I pepper kisses on her neck as her hands travel up my back to where the clasp on my bra is closed.

“Can I?” she says, leaning her head back so I can plant kisses on the soft skin near her earlobe. I nod, breathe a “Yes.” She works the clasp free with one hand while the other comes around to help me remove the straps.

My bra falls between us, and she tugs it out of the way.

With a groan, her hand cups my breast. “I could spend all day here,” she says.

“All night.” Her pointer finger and her thumb close around my nipple, tweaking the sensitive skin until it makes me moan.

Sitting on her lap like this, it’s easy to press my need against her hips.

She buries her face in my breasts, tonguing my nipple before taking the flesh, areola and all, into her mouth.

I gasp as pleasure ripples through me, as she writhes against me.

Her hands slide up my waist, into my hair, and around my neck, leaving sparks of electricity like a path across my skin.

“I want to see you,” I say, easing back from working my mouth over her neck. I twist off her lap, and give a playful tug of the thin black strap holding her bra up. She laughs as it drops down. I reach around, undoing the clasp.

She lets it fall to the ground next to mine.

My eyes get stuck on her breasts. Skin like crushed seashells, with a tiny birthmark near one nipple.

Her areolas are small, the nipples plump, tan.

I take one in my hand, and it’s a perfect fit.

With my tongue I trace the ridge of the areola before using the tip to taunt the nipple.

She quivers, groaning as I take the whole sweet thing in my mouth.

“Oh God,” she says, followed by a soft cry. Her hand reaches between her legs. I move my own hand over hers, applying pressure. I feel her warmth through her jeans.

But I want to feel her wetness.

I release her breast from my mouth. “These have to come off now.” Her eyes roll open and she laughs.

“Go right ahead.” She smirks. I make fast work of the button, standing up to help ease them off her hips. Her black underwear slides off a little with them, and I tug them all the way down.

I stand there, topless, surveying her naked body with hungry eyes.

Her long legs and tight stomach. Her breasts that naturally fall to either side, perky and plump.

Her bush, full and black. All the expanse of her skin in soft cream peppered with dark freckles over her chest, her arms, her cheeks.

I lean in to kiss her on the lips, taking her breath and her tongue in my mouth.

When our lips break free, her hand moves to clutch the waistband of my jeans, thumb caressing the metal button.

“Your turn,” she says. She tugs me against her, releasing the clasp on my jeans, dragging the zipper down. She takes my nipple into her mouth, swirling the tip of her tongue around, taunting it with the edge of her teeth. She leans back, spreading my pants open so she can see my underwear.

“Lavender lace,” she says, practically licking her lips.

“Well, I am a gay girl, you know.” My clit aches for relief, and my voice quivers with want.

She grabs at the waistband of my pants and tugs, working the skintight fabric over my ass.

I help her along until I’m standing there with only my underwear on.

Her finger traces the waistband, runs down to the center.

I ease my legs open. She fits her hands against my warmth.

“Fuck, these are drenched,” she says, starting to work her fingers against my mound. I almost buckle, my knees nearly giving out. I fall against her, my tits hitting her face, and she moans, burying herself between them.

We plunge onto the bed together, twisting until we’re all tangled up.

I nudge my thigh between her legs, seeking contact with her wet warmth.

When my skin grazes her heat, she lets out a moan and starts to rub against my thigh.

One of her hands is still between my legs, but the other grabs for my ass, roping my underwear to pull them down.

She draws her hand from between my legs, letting my underwear slip out of the way.

Her fingers spread my pussy, touching my swollen clit and then sliding lower. She enters me with a gasp. I grip her ass and press her against me, angling my thigh for optimal friction.

As she works her finger inside, her palm applies pressure to my clit.

Stars flood my vision as the intensity builds beneath her hand.

Her finger slides in, moving in a rhythm with the motion of her hand, and I squeeze my legs together.

My hand dips into the space between us as my finger slides over her want, slipping inside to feel the velvety warmth.

Her eyes roll open and fix on my mouth before dragging up to meet my gaze.

“I want to taste you,” she says, and the force in her voice sends fresh heat between my legs.

She lifts her hand from my pussy and touches the tips of her fingers to her tongue.

The sight of her sucking me off her fingers like some sort of delicious treat turns me ravenous.

I attack her neck with the edge of my teeth, devouring her as I move down, over her breasts and the hard cut of her abs, until my mouth reaches her bush and my fingers spread the lips open.

She takes a sharp inhale.

“Can I?” I ask her, dying to get a taste.

She squeaks a “Yes.” My mouth closes over her sex, and my tongue slips inside her where my hand was just exploring.

Her fingers fist into my hair as her hips buck up.

I work over her clit, tantalizing the tender, sensitive skin with my breath and my tongue.

I lift up, sliding my finger inside her again as she reaches down to pull me against her. Our breasts press together.

Her thigh slides up between my legs and then her finger slips into the gap. The pressure is almost more than I can bear.

“I’m close,” I gasp, my lips in her hair. Oh my God, my whole body is lit up, from my skin all the way to my soul.

“I am”—she breathes out a whimper—“too.”

I open my eyes to see the rapture on her face. Her cheeks glowing, her lips swollen, her eyes open, connecting with mine. Neither one of us looks away as satisfaction—complete, all-consuming—ripples through our hips and over our skin.

Tying us up in pleasure together.