surrender, not easily
and not without a lot of struggle. If she wanted his love, she’d have to work
for it. Earn it.
And she wanted it. He didn’t realize how special he was. How
giving and sweet he could be. Yeah, sure, he gave off the domineering, I’m
in charge here attitude. But it wasn’t him. Not an act, per se, but a thin
veneer to cover up something else. If she wanted him in her life, she needed to
crack that top layer and see what was underneath. He’d have to let her.
And it started with seeing how easily he could let go of the
reins.
She rolled over, pushed his shoulder gently until he was
flat on his back and climbed on top of him.
He slept on, like a coma patient.
“Figures,” she mumbled. She just had to pick now to try out
a seduction. But she’d started, so she’d finish. Kissing her way around his
jaw, the bristle scratching at her lips, she rubbed her hands up and down his
arms. She looked down and watched her fingers glide around his biceps. She
loved the beautiful contrast of her pale skin against his slightly
darker-than-tan coloring. Unique to them.
He shifted, as if subconsciously aware of her touch, but not
quite ready to slip into awake status. The rising erection beneath her butt
though, that was becoming more ready by the minute.
Men. They could get a boner even in their deepest REM cycle.
She worked her hands down his chest, over his ribs where she
knew he was ticklish. A little poke had him squirming, closer to the surface of
consciousness. One hand continued to play over his ribs, fingers walking over
each bone as the other reached behind and took a firm grasp of his now-hard
cock.
“Hmm?” His eyes didn’t even crack, but he turned his head to
the side.
“Wakey, wakey, eggs and bakey,” she sang softly, teasingly.
“Eggs? Huh?” His voice rusty with sleep, he cracked one eye
and stared at her. Though to be honest, she wouldn’t have been shocked if he
was still sleep-blind. “There’s eggs?”
She blew out a breath, shifting some of her hair off her
forehead. “No. There’s not eggs. Nice to know where your mind immediately goes
upon waking up, though.”
“Well good Christ, Mary Ellen, it’s—” He turned to peer at
the bedside clock. “Three-fourteen in the morning. Sorry for not being with
it.”
She squeezed his cock, ran her palm down the length with
enough pressure to have him open his other eye.
“What are you doing up there?”
Ah, there we go. Finally starting to catch on. “I’m having
my way with you.”
“Easy enough when the guy’s not awake.” In one agile
movement, he rolled them both over until she was pressed into the mattress. One
knee firmly planted between her thighs, forearms caging her shoulders. She
wasn’t moving unless he let her.
“Hey. I wasn’t finished up there. Let me up.”
“Uh huh.” He nipped her lip, soothed his tongue over the
same spot. “Now I’m the one who’s up. Or is this not what you wanted?”
“Not really.” She pushed ineffectively on his chest. She had
no strength this way, no leverage. “I wanted to be in charge this time.”
“Mmm. But I like you this way.”
She wasn’t surprised. “Why don’t I get a vote?”
As if he didn’t hear her, he worked his lips down her
collarbone, pulling up her sleep tank at the same time until one nipple was
exposed. He gave one long, hot lick then blew on the damp skin until the tip hardened
tightly. “There we go.” He sucked the distended point into his mouth, and her
pussy responded immediately with little tingles.
Oh God that felt so good. She gripped his wrists, hips
twisting, looking for friction…wait. No, it was her turn. She rotated her torso
until his mouth let go.
“Seriously.” She fought to control her breathing even as he
pressed his cock against her mound, the pressure only distracting her. She had
to push back against the wave of pleasure to keep her mind clear. “It’s my turn
to lead for once.”
His face, previously
Legs McNeil, Jennifer Osborne, Peter Pavia