Page 67 of Threads That Bind Us
“Lemon.” The word slips from my lips without consciousthought. Gwen raises her eyebrows at me, a smile pulling at the corner of her lips. “They make me think of French 75s.”
“Okay,” she whispers, trailing a single finger from the hollow of my throat to the waistband of my pants. “Lemon.”
I tell myself I can be good for her. Keep my hands to myself. Even when she loosens the buckle of my belt. Even when she undoes the button and slips her hand into my boxers, making me pant her name over and over.
She touches everywhere she wants, her breaths growing heavier as she works herself up. Her hand disappears under her dress as she takes my cock down her throat, and I can’t help it anymore.
“Please, Gwen,” I beg, my voice breaking on her name. “Please let me make you come. I need you.”
For a moment, I think she’s going to ignore my pleas, but she meets my eyes, her mouth still wrapped around me, and pumps me down her throat a few more strokes before letting go.
“Okay, Charlie,” she says, her voice breathy and eyes glazed.
The blankets rumple around her as she lets herself fall backward, propping her head up on the pillows. My heart tumbles over itself, losing all sense of rhythm as she runs her thumb along her bottom lip, collecting her own saliva and my precum, sucking it off her own finger as her legs fall open.
“Make me come however you want.”
It’s an invitation I would walk through fire to meet. I shuck off my pants and boxers and crawl between her knees.
“Thank you.”
Running my hands down her thighs, I spread her further. Her panties are pale pink lace, complementing the petals on her dress, and she’s going to be the death of me.
She arches the small of her back when my mouth meets her clit over the lace, nearly soaked through already. I grip herthighs so tightly I’d worry I was hurting her if her soft moans of pleasure weren’t filling the entire room. I hook one finger under the fabric and pull her panties to the side.
“So fucking perfect,” I groan, unable to rip my eyes away as I watch two of my fingers disappear into her pussy, hard and fast.
Her gasping breaths chip away at my control as I pump into her, feeling her clench around me as I curl my fingers. Despite how hard I am, the thought of stopping and filling her with my cock barely crosses my mind. I press my hand harder against her thigh so I can see her. She’s moaning my name, cursing and crying out for more, and I can’t deny her anything.
“Charlie, fuck, so good, you’re doing so…” she cuts herself off with a cry, her hand moving to pinch her nipple. “Fuck, it feels like…”
“I know, mio filo,” I soothe, keeping my pace and watching her eyes roll back in her head. “You said to make you come however I want. I want this, if you like how it feels.”
“Yes, yes, yes,” she chants, her hips lifting to meet my thrusts. “Feels so good, Charlie.”
My body’s on fire, sweat dripping down my temples as her whole body shakes and finally breaks. She soaks my hand as she comes, her pussy clenching my fingers as I work her through her orgasm. I don’t stop pumping my fingers into her, even as I take her clit into my mouth. The feeling of her hands in my hair, pulling and pushing, grinding her pussy against my face, causes any lingering control I had to slip. I lick and suck her clit, savoring the taste of her orgasm on my tongue. A state of euphoria takes over as I bury my mouth against her, barely stopping to breathe until she comes on my fingers and mouth again.
As the waves of her orgasm recede, I slow my movements, bringing myself back down to earth with her. She’s breathing hard, her chest and stomach rising and falling, glistening with asheen of sweat. Even though my body realizes I haven’t come—my dick is painfully hard, pressed against the sheets—the satisfaction of bringing her so much pleasure is a release in itself. All the while, she runs her fingernails through my hair, soothing the places where she pulled. I feel like I’ve been skydiving, the adrenaline of the fall a contrast to the jarring landing back on earth.
“Come here,” she pants, gently pulling at my hair.
I crawl up her body, meeting her lips with mine. A hand travels between us down my chest until she’s teasing my cock with her fingertips. But I tug her hand away, wrapping it around my neck. As much as my body suggests otherwise, I need this more. Her body wrapped around mine, her slow and steady breath against my skin. She breaks the kiss, leaning back with her eyebrows raised, and I’m relieved not to see any hurt or rejection in her eyes.
“How are you feeling?” she asks as I lay my head against her sternum, listening to the beat of her heart.
I laugh, kissing her ribs and the underside of her breast, anywhere I can reach without moving.
“I think I should be asking you that,” I reply, my body shaking slightly as I breathe deeply.
“That’s not how this works,” she says, trailing her fingers over my shoulder, her voice a bit chastising. When I look at her, she still has her eyebrows raised, and she pats her chest.
I take it as an invitation and move so I’m holding her, my head tucked under her chin like hers has been under mine so many times. She makes soothing circles on my back and I time my breathing with hers, feeling less and less unmoored with each exhale.
“Howareyou feeling?” I ask, pressing my lips into the hollow of her throat.
“Incredible,” she says, almost laughing. “A little surprised,too. And my skin feels all tingly. A little selfish, if I’m being honest.” I drag my hand down her side and feel the tiny hairs on her skin stand up under my touch. “Now it’s your turn.”
I consider lying, or only telling her about the euphoria of watching her fall apart for me, of knowing I can make her feel like that. But this weekend is about trust, in all things.