It was all an unbearable ecstasy. The brush of his hair as it fell against sensitive skin, the brush of his lips, the press of his lips, a swipe of his tongue, trace of his tongue, the sucks, the licks. And that was just the attention of these kisses. His wandering hands, fingers, were just as potent.
Currently, all attention was on my chest, everything teased and hinted the previous night, but at this time I was not left wanting while he smirked and walked out.
His hand covered in an exploring squeeze, and his mouth and fingers followed in some enthralling synchronicity that was maddening. The tug as he sucked was like a fiery wick burning to, and inflaming me to the core. The follow up of his fingers, lips and tongue kept a gasp on my lips. When his hand wandered down, his fingers working their magic, around, then, finally, on the achy burn, I moaned and he brought his mouth from the cleavage he was enjoying to my lips. His tongue slipped through my murmuring lips just as his finger slipped through---
Uncontrollably my hips moved up to meet his touch..."Mmh, Ja--ck--"
"Good?" The husky rumble crazed me more.
Mmh-hmm..." His fingers...oh...
I was unaware that he left the kiss, until the silky strands of hair began to slide, after a quick stop at my chest, down,
a touch of his lips, a brush of his tongue, down.
Teasing the sensitive skin of my stomach, he lingered, tracing my naval with his tongue, before pressing kisses lower.
down
Pausing, he teased with his tongue just below the bikini line, yet just above the source of that hot sweet ache that was burning my insides up.
My fingers were forked in his hair and I grew dizzy from holding my breath and the pound of my heart.
I wanted to urge him the inch he was lacking, but this limbo was too enticing...
When he did move lower, I wanted to scream in frustration, as much as the pleasure of the frustration, but the kiss to my legs was brief.
The next kiss was fervent as if the waiting was just as inane to him; the pressure of his lips in a most intimate kiss was followed by a fiery swipe of his tongue that arced me from the bed. My fingers clenched in his hair and my other hand closed around a pillow, dragging it to my face.
My breath heated the fabric of the pillowcase, and through some far away haze I could hear my muffled moans and mummers as he continued, his tongue flat at first then angled as it became more sweetly invasive. As tightly as one hand clutched that pillow, the other just as crazily clutched his hair, unable to care that I was probably pulling it out by its roots. Jack didn't seem to care either.
On and on his tongue, long sweet swipes, short teasing flicks. I was going insane in each second of interim, wondering what would come next. There were no abc's. There was nothing predictable except the pleasure of every tongue stroke and the ecstasy when it became the most intimate of french kisses, his tongue slipping inside.
At this point, I was unsure if my hold in his hair was to pull him away because I could sanely stand no more, or hold him to me forever in this sweet insanity. Switching it up, his fingers began to tease inside, while his kiss continued outside.
When the attention moved to that one magic spot to stay, the tongue flicks and the rhythm of his fingers causing me to smother myself with the pillow, I thought I would pass out from the pleasure. He brought me to that brink and just as I tumbled over it, he pressed his lips sucking, and I thought I did pass out for a moment.
Never had I gotten off so intensely, and for so long. It seemed minutes passed in which my own voice sounded disembodied, and there was nothing except these sweet explosions, in my mind, my soul, my body.
When the intensity began to fade, I shoved the pillow aside, burning with a sweaty fever. His kiss was continuing, and I lay, enjoying it, a whimper escaping every once in awhile. My only clear thought was hoping I could give him a blowjob that rocked his world as much as he had just rocked mine. When my heart began to race again, I tugged at his hair, and this time he moved up, a press of his lips to my stomach, to my chest, and finally my lips. With one smooth move, he was in me, filling, satisfying every fiery ache in a way no kiss, even that most intimate one, could ever do.
We rocked and rolled and rocked again. His eyes, darkened even more with passion, seemed to be staring into my soul, his hands were possessively on my hips, and his lips and tongue touched mine just before heaven rained down again.
