Free To Kiss You Again by Brandie Buckwine Page A

path well, and with no moon, he could easily trip and injure himself. I don’t want to have to work around an injury, so I guide him and warn him of rocks and steps. Conversation seems impossible. My mouth is only capable of giggles and short sentences for now, and I’m afraid he must think me immature to carry on this way. When he stops and pulls me close for a kiss, I see his beautiful smile and know I am not alone in my joy.
    We reach the veranda, and before I can drag him to my bed, he stops and embraces me once more. His lips travel to my breast, and he teases my nipple with his tongue. Pleasure shoots through my being when he pulls it between his lips. My head is spinning when he runs his hands down the backs of my thighs and lifts me off the ground – I wrap my legs around his waist. He is hard again – his erection presses against my ass as he unerringly carries me to my dimly lit room. How does he know the way? The question flashes through my head and is gone just as quickly when he gently lowers me to my bed.
    “Oh, baby girl, you are so beautiful. You always were.”
    I think I am still seeing the phosphorescent water drops when he kisses me again, as bursts of light fill my vision under his hungry lips. Hard. Sexy. Demanding. His intensity is unnerving, and my heart thuds in my chest. It was so worth the wait, I decide. Gone are the horrible feelings of rejection which consumed me through the day. All it took was his scorching kiss and intuitive touch to make me forget. I am his to do with as he pleases.
    His goal, it seems, is to please me, because he nibbles and licks his way across my chest, settling his lips around my taut nipple. The heated moisture of his lips brings my hips off the bed. As his tongue swirls, my sex floods with need. My pulse rate jumps when his lips leave my breast, and he kisses down my ribs, over my abdomen, and through the patch of hair above the juncture of my thighs. His dark eyes watch my face as he descends and pushes my legs apart.
    With his hands pressing on my thighs, he barely grazes along my lips. I catch the devilish gleam in his eye as he begins again, pressing harder so his tongue glides into my slit. The fierce sensation brings my hips up once again, and I grab his head. His tongue has found my clit, but doesn’t stick around. No. He intends to torture me, and raises his head with a grin to gauge my reaction.
    “Please, Matt,” I beg.
    “Please what?”
    “Please make me come.” I writhe on the bed.
    “How? Like this?” he asks, sliding a finger inside me.
    I shake him off.
    “Like this?” A second finger joins the first and he pumps. My hips gyrate against his probing. Again, I shake my head. He releases a hot burst of air against my sex, feigning exasperation.
    “This?” He runs a fingertip up my slit and over my clit. It is almost too hard, and my breath catches.
    “No!” I squirm.
    “Like this?” he asks again, and there is mischief in his sexy drawl. His hands push my lips apart and then his mouth is on me again. He doesn’t hold back, and even though I’m expecting it, the scorching heat as his lips close around me has my body in convulsions. Slick and harsh, his tongue darts over my hood and sensitive clit – soft at first, then more demanding as he begins to suction over the maddening caress of his tongue. The muscles in my stomach tighten, as though the action will heighten the sensitivity of the nerve endings at my sex. I twist his hair around my fingers as he pulls me higher, to the farthest reaches of my consciousness. The sensations are pressing against the boundary of my skin, trying to break free. I feel the pressure from the tips of my curling toes, to my straining eyes, but more so in my throbbing clit than anywhere else.
    My body has never felt so explosive, and the moment he adds his fingers to the attack, enters me and hits that wondrous spot, the intense pleasure pushing against me explodes, shooting through my body in every which