Page 29 of The Wrong Game
I traced the arch in her back on my way back up, slipping my fingers in the band of her shorts and tugging her hips up a little more. She was so small, yet every inch of her was supple and curvy — it was a body unlike any I’d ever seen before.
Bending to kiss her exposed navel, I flipped the button on her jean shorts, tugging on her zipper and slipping the denim down off her hips. The way her thighs touched under the navy blue lace of her panties made me growl with want, and I lifted her leg, hooking it over my shoulder so I could kiss the inside of that thigh.
Gemma leaned up, watching me kiss her from under hooded lids, her lips parted. I tried to take my time, sucking and biting the tender, soft skin between her legs as I climbed toward the promise land. But the higher I kissed, the harder she breathed, her chest heaving and eyes widening as she watched me.
I paused, planting a feather-light kiss over the lace fabric that made her shutter before I let her leg drop and slid between her thighs. I leaned over, bending to meet her lips with mine.
“Just relax,” I whispered, kissing her gently. “We’re going to take it slow, okay? No sex tonight.”
“I can do this,” she said quickly.
“Oh, trust me, I know,” I growled, biting her lower lip. “But tonight, I just want you to relax. I want you to remember what it’s like to feel good.” Then, I smirked. “Be a little selfish.”
She blew out a breath on a laugh. “I don’t know if I can just relax.”
“Close your eyes,” I said, pushing back to stand again. I ran my hands over the curves still hidden by her tank top, hooking my thumbs in the thin straps of her panties before tugging on them.
Gemma lifted her lips, letting me strip the lace off, and when she was fully exposed, I swallowed at the sight of her perfect pink pussy staring back at me.
She was still watching me, her breaths racking through her chest.
“Close your eyes,” I said again, bending until my face was between her legs. I propped one leg on each of my shoulders, hands holding her hips in place.
She swallowed, still breathing hard as she finally did as I asked. She closed her eyes, leaning her head back against the pillow, her legs shaking where they hung over my shoulders. Slowly, with my hands massaging her hips, I pressed my lips to the tender skin just above her clit.
She shivered, letting out a long sigh, hands fisting in the fabric of the couch. I smiled, remembering how she’d had it on her list to shave for tonight. I would have buried my face between her legs regardless, but I swept my tongue over her freshly smooth skin with appreciation.
“Oh…” she moaned, hips bucking. “Yes.”
The way I had her bent over the couch, her hips still balanced on the arm while her head and shoulders rested on the cushions, I had the perfect view of her arched body. Even under the tank top, her breasts strained against her bra, heaving with every heated breath she drew.
Swirling my tongue over her clit, I let my hands climb from her hips up under her shirt. I traced the wire of her bra, slipping my fingers beneath it and grazing each hard nipple. She arched into my touch with a moan, and I took the cue, sucking her clit between my teeth and flicking her nipples at the same time.
A sharp cry left her lips, and she hissed, bucking her hips and writhing under my grasp.
My hard on ached for relief under my shorts, but I bit down the urge to sayfuck itand give Gemma arealpractice round. I’d take a cold shower later, or get my release when I was alone in my bed the next morning.
Tonight was about her.
With one hand still massaging her breast, I slipped the other hand under my mouth, brushing her entrance with just the tip of my pointer finger before I slipped it inside.
“Oh, God,” she cried, hands flying into my hair. She rolled her hips, grinding her clit against my tongue, and I let her take the lead, let her use me the way she wanted to. “More.”
I granted her wish, withdrawing my finger and sliding it back inside along with one more. She gasped, arching, hands fisting in my hair. The more I curled those fingers, the more she ground her hips. Around and around — my tongue on her clit, her hips on the couch, my fingers inside her — a hurricane symphony of movement until her entire body tensed.
“Yes, yes, don’t stop, oh…fuck.” She gasped the last word, pussy clenching around my fingers as I tensed my tongue and put as much pressure as I could on her sensitive clit. With that, she tightened around my fingers even more before everything let go at once.
She shook, crying out, hands flying out of my hair and into her own as she rode out her orgasm. I lifted her hips more, digging my fingers even deeper to make it last as long as it could, and when she was spent, when her legs fell lax on either side of my face, I withdrew. Slowly, carefully, one finger at a time as I kissed the insides of her thighs and climbed back up to stand.
Gemma just laid there, hair and hands sprawled out, legs flopped over the arm.
She sighed, eyes fluttering open, and when she saw me standing over her with a satisfied smirk, she laughed.
“Wow.”
“How was that?”
“Um, fucking incredible,” she said, leaning up on her elbows. She squeezed her knees together, suddenly aware of how spread eagle she’d been. “Can you help me up?”