“He reached up to gently pull the elastic from my hair, combing his fingers through the waves as they splayed over my shoulders. Even that massage on my scalp felt good, and I closed my eyes, swaying into him.
"You're so beautiful," he murmured against my mouth, his hands still in my hair as he kissed me. This kiss was different from the ones in the pool, somehow--- slower, more exploratory, as though he had all the time in the world and he wanted to spend it with me.
Meanwhile, I felt restless and pent-up and like if I didn't have him inside me right then I would explode.
My insistent hands on his towel and underwear must've given him the hint, because within five seconds we were both naked and twined together on the bed, kissing and touching everywhere we could. I took the hard length of him in my hand, and he shuddered against me as I rubbed my thumb along the silky head of his cock.
"Ah," he said, his voice sounding strangled. "I won't last long if you keep doing that."
"What, this?" I said, and did it again. I liked seeing him this way, out of control, his eyes glittering and wild in the low light of the room. But then he turned the tables on me, flipping me over so I was pinned on my back, and he kissed his way down my throat, stopping to suck one aching nipple in his mouth, roll his tongue along the swell of my stomach before he found my clit. I bucked involuntarily, my hips grinding into him as if my body knew it needed more even before my mind did. He licked and sucked, his tongue doing wicked things inside me, until there was no way I could hold myself back even if I wanted to. I clenched at the sheets, gasping as I felt my orgasm shockwave through me.”
― Love in the Time of Serial Killers
"You're so beautiful," he murmured against my mouth, his hands still in my hair as he kissed me. This kiss was different from the ones in the pool, somehow--- slower, more exploratory, as though he had all the time in the world and he wanted to spend it with me.
Meanwhile, I felt restless and pent-up and like if I didn't have him inside me right then I would explode.
My insistent hands on his towel and underwear must've given him the hint, because within five seconds we were both naked and twined together on the bed, kissing and touching everywhere we could. I took the hard length of him in my hand, and he shuddered against me as I rubbed my thumb along the silky head of his cock.
"Ah," he said, his voice sounding strangled. "I won't last long if you keep doing that."
"What, this?" I said, and did it again. I liked seeing him this way, out of control, his eyes glittering and wild in the low light of the room. But then he turned the tables on me, flipping me over so I was pinned on my back, and he kissed his way down my throat, stopping to suck one aching nipple in his mouth, roll his tongue along the swell of my stomach before he found my clit. I bucked involuntarily, my hips grinding into him as if my body knew it needed more even before my mind did. He licked and sucked, his tongue doing wicked things inside me, until there was no way I could hold myself back even if I wanted to. I clenched at the sheets, gasping as I felt my orgasm shockwave through me.”
― Love in the Time of Serial Killers
“This is a girl who’s meant to shine in the dark like a silvery star. I found her. I brought her here. Now she’s lighting up my night.”
― Minx
― Minx
“I glanced down. My arms were pushing my breasts together, making my cleavage look even deeper than usual. "Oh my god," I said. "My tits look amazing."
"I know," Sam said. "That's my point."
"They may never look this good again. Take a picture."
"Don't tempt me."
I slid up against his body, until I felt the hard length of him on my thigh. "We can start with the space thing in, like, twenty minutes," I said.
"Forty-five?"
"An hour, max."
"I can work with that," he said, and grabbed my ass with both hands, pulling me on top of him.”
― Love in the Time of Serial Killers
"I know," Sam said. "That's my point."
"They may never look this good again. Take a picture."
"Don't tempt me."
I slid up against his body, until I felt the hard length of him on my thigh. "We can start with the space thing in, like, twenty minutes," I said.
"Forty-five?"
"An hour, max."
"I can work with that," he said, and grabbed my ass with both hands, pulling me on top of him.”
― Love in the Time of Serial Killers
“You're sweet," I said.
"Sweet on you."
I groaned at the cheesiness of that line, giving him a playful swat. But the truth was that it wormed its way into my heart regardless. It made me dream, for one night at least, of something I hadn't even dared to as a young girl lying in this same bed--- that all the pink heart valentine, sappy love song stuff might be real, and be something I could have.”
― Love in the Time of Serial Killers
"Sweet on you."
I groaned at the cheesiness of that line, giving him a playful swat. But the truth was that it wormed its way into my heart regardless. It made me dream, for one night at least, of something I hadn't even dared to as a young girl lying in this same bed--- that all the pink heart valentine, sappy love song stuff might be real, and be something I could have.”
― Love in the Time of Serial Killers
“He ran his hands along my shoulders, the ridges of my collarbones. His fingers sank into the tense muscles of my upper back, massaging in deep, sensual circles that caused a moan to escape my mouth.
"You deserve to be taken care of," he said, and then his hand was on my hip, directing me. "Here. Let me do this properly."
I turned around, scooting back until I was nestled in between his thighs, and he resumed his slow ministrations, his thumbs digging into the space between my shoulder blades. "Tell me if I'm too rough," he said quietly into my ear, but I could only shake my head. It felt amazing.
He ran his nails down my back, the sensation sending a delicious crackle down my spine, before calming the activated nerve endings with a rub all the way down to my lower back. His fingers hooked in the waistband of my leggings, my underwear, before tugging at the stretchy material of the leggings. "Now these," he said. "Only these."
I had to stand up to comply with that command, rolling the leggings down from my hips and stepping out of them. It gave me a chance to see Sam's face, his eyes hooded, watching me. Any questions I may have had about whether this was only about my pleasure were answered in that look, and further by the hard ridge of his jeans against my ass when I took my place back between his thighs.
I half expected him to touch me in a more explicit way than a massage of the shoulders, but he simply returned to the slow kneading of my back, no more improper than what you might ask a friend to do, albeit with fewer clothes. It made my body scream to be touched---- I wanted his hands everywhere, on my breasts and in my mouth and in between my legs. I ground my ass against his erection through his jeans, trying to send him a message.
"Shh," Sam said against my ear, less a command to be quiet and more a soft sound of indulgence. "We have time. We have all night.”
― Love in the Time of Serial Killers
"You deserve to be taken care of," he said, and then his hand was on my hip, directing me. "Here. Let me do this properly."
I turned around, scooting back until I was nestled in between his thighs, and he resumed his slow ministrations, his thumbs digging into the space between my shoulder blades. "Tell me if I'm too rough," he said quietly into my ear, but I could only shake my head. It felt amazing.
He ran his nails down my back, the sensation sending a delicious crackle down my spine, before calming the activated nerve endings with a rub all the way down to my lower back. His fingers hooked in the waistband of my leggings, my underwear, before tugging at the stretchy material of the leggings. "Now these," he said. "Only these."
I had to stand up to comply with that command, rolling the leggings down from my hips and stepping out of them. It gave me a chance to see Sam's face, his eyes hooded, watching me. Any questions I may have had about whether this was only about my pleasure were answered in that look, and further by the hard ridge of his jeans against my ass when I took my place back between his thighs.
I half expected him to touch me in a more explicit way than a massage of the shoulders, but he simply returned to the slow kneading of my back, no more improper than what you might ask a friend to do, albeit with fewer clothes. It made my body scream to be touched---- I wanted his hands everywhere, on my breasts and in my mouth and in between my legs. I ground my ass against his erection through his jeans, trying to send him a message.
"Shh," Sam said against my ear, less a command to be quiet and more a soft sound of indulgence. "We have time. We have all night.”
― Love in the Time of Serial Killers
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