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Except this time, he continued across my sides and slightly around to my back, which was arched with my cuffed hands and the pillow under me. The tremors traveling across my skin echoed in my inhale and exhale. A slight shift up caused the backs of his fingers to brush under my breasts. I flinched and cooed.
Coming together. Afterwards, we lie in the semi-darkness, his chest pressing to my back while we spooned on our left sides. Eventually, his breathing slowed down. When I felt the tension in his arm over me lessen, I shot out from under the covers and streaked down the hall. I skidded to a stop at the kitchen island where a blackened ham sat in my mom's heirloom roasting pan-which had also turned crusty-black inside.
He actually whimpered when I tilted my head and lifted his cock. His eyes widened the moment my tongue touched the first of the six tiny balls on the underside of his shaft. I held eye contact and moved on to the next ball. And the next. Licking over and around each of them in turn before moving on to the rods connecting each set.
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His fingers twisted tighter in my hair. He even seemed to scoot down further, moving toward me. I grinned before going back to flick my tongue at the tip of his cock a couple of times. At his guttural moan, I engulfed him almost to his base, the PA piercing blocking the rest of the way, as always.
Chris flung his head back.
I'd learned he was extremely sensitive when I used my tongue to play with his hardware. That I liked having my hair pulled. And as much as he liked to tease me with his finger at my asshole-and I enjoyed it-I was adamant that it was the only thing inserted there. For the past few weeks, we'd been concentrating on orgasm control.
"Does he know how to touch you like I do. Seduce you. Please you?" Though my arms still refused to raise to him, words were finally on my tongue. But they never left my mouth because his lips descended on mine.