Page 58 of Threads That Bind Us
With reverence, he runs his hand up my hip to my ribs, the soft silk of the dress slipping under his touch. My eyes are closed, soaking in the feeling, when I feel his lips on my shoulder, the inside of my elbow, my fingertips.
“Can I do this?” he asks, finding the zipper on the dress in the middle of my back.
“Yes.”
His eyes don’t leave mine as the dress falls off my shoulders, skimming my hips and pooling on the floor at my feet. He leans forward and takes my face in his hands, kissing me again and again.
“Perfect,” he whispers against the skin of my neck.
I stand there in front of him, in only my underwear and these ridiculous heels, and let him touch me. He kisses and bites, grabs and brushes, everything eager and soft, slowlyratcheting me higher and higher. I can’t help but latch my fingers into his hair as he pulls my nipple into his mouth, the slightest tinge of pain heightening my already-overwhelming pleasure.
He kisses down my sternum, bracing my ribs with his hands so that when I arch back under his touch, he’s supporting me. He keeps moving down, tongue and lips and teeth, until he’s nipping at the top of my underwear.
“I’m going to touch you now.” He says it like a question, looking up at me, nearly all the fear gone from his expression.
“Yes, now, please.”
I feel like I’m going to come apart the second he does, my body humming with pleasure. But he doesn’t touch me, not where I need him. He just rests his hands on my hip and shifts me toward the bed so we’ve switched places yet again. And drops to his knees.
He lifts my foot and places it on his chest, undoing the strap and removing the shoe before kneading his thumbs into my arch. It feels so unspeakably good, I can forgive the fact that it relieves some of the tension in other parts of my body. He repeats the process with my other shoe, placing kisses on the inside of my calf.
“I thought about this earlier,” he says under his breath, teeth skimming the inside of my thigh. “About what you would do if I touched you like this.”
I don’t know if I sayme tooout loud, but he grips my legs a little tighter and shifts me so my ass is perched at the end of the bed.
“Please let me make you come,” he begs, and the sound of his voice alone has my back arching. He kisses the inside of my knee. “Please.”
“Yes,” I pant, letting my legs fall further open. “Make me come, Charlie.”
He doesn't waste a second. Almost before I realize what’s happening, he slips my underwear down my legs, baring me to him. I would be self conscious being exposed around anyone else, but I can’t when he’s looking at me like that. Eyes wild, shoulders tense, vibrating with his own need.
I was right, all those weeks ago. His inked hands do look good against my skin.
“Fuck, so fucking perfect,” he says before spreading me open with his hands and licking me from pussy to clit.
We groan together, the pleasure at finally being touched where I need him overwhelming, making me delirious. He takes his time, finding the rhythm and motions that have my hips lifting off the bed. My legs are slung over his shoulders, his head trapped between my thighs as he sucks on my clit.
I know I’m saying something, moaning his name or maybe nonsense, and I fall back against the bed, which only allows him to bury himself closer. My body feels strung like a bow, toes curled against his shoulder blades, stomach muscles coiled, fingers clamped in the sheet above my head. I’m hovering around the edge of the orgasm of a lifetime, but can’t seem to fall over the ledge.
Just when I think I’m going to lose all the momentum we’ve built, Charlie presses a finger inside of me, pumping along with the rhythm of his mouth. My back arches, my breath catching in my throat as he adds a second finger, groaning as I squeeze my thighs around his head.
He moans, and it's the vibration against my clit that sends me over the edge. My stomach clenches and heat unfurls through my whole body as my orgasm rips through me. I can feel my pulse in every inch of my skin as pleasure sinks into my bones, blacking out my vision momentarily.
Charlie slows his movements, working me through every wave of pleasure, extending my climax until I’m shaking, mymuscles exhausted. I slowly relax, feeling Charlie’s lips on my thighs, murmuring words I can’t hear over the rushing in my ears. When I can muster the energy, I sit up and run my fingers through his hair, scratching at his scalp until he lifts his face toward me.
“Come here,” I ask, my voice rough and low.
He peppers kisses over my entire body as he stands, finally taking my mouth with his. I can taste myself on his lips and open further to deepen the kiss.
I scoot further back on the bed and he chases my mouth, crawling over me and settling on top of me as I lay down. I can feel his cock, hard and trapped in his boxers, as I wrap my legs around his waist.
“Gwen, please, I can’t—” Charlie starts, but cuts himself off on a groan as I pull him closer, grinding my center against him. He drops to his elbows, drawing my bottom lip between his teeth as he grinds against me. He’s already working me back up, the exhaustion from moments ago forgotten under his body.
“I want you, Charlie,” I pant into his shoulder as he kisses my neck, likely leaving a mark. “I want this, us, together.”
He pulls back to hover over me, and I brush his hair out of his face.
“How do you…” he hesitates, glancing down at my bare body and then up at the ceiling, cursing something in Italian that I don’t understand but makes me smile. “Can you tell me how you want to fuck me?”