Free Catch by Toni Kenyon Page B

suckling and caressing, alternating from nipple to nipple, her hands running through his hair, then raking his back in long, agonizingly slow strokes.  
    The harder he suckled, the harder she scratched.   Each time he increased the suction it felt as if she took another layer of skin off his back. He wanted to keep going until she drew blood - scraped her way through flesh to muscle and bone.
    Sucking ᴚ harder, he felt her arch under his mouth. "Oh, God...no more...enough," she panted.
    He released the tormented nipple, shades of purple and red appearing where his mouth had been.   His back was on fire.
    "I want you to lick me."   She ran her fingernail down her stomach, past the golden barbell in her navel; he noticed that the stone in the ball matched the emerald she wore at her throat. "Taste me."
    He didn't need asking twice, helping her onto the bench top with the dirty dishes, bottles and glasses pushed swiftly to one side.   She’d shaved, except for a small strip of cropped red hair leading to her swollen lips.   He ran his tongue down the prickly line until his tongue reached her sweet juice.
    Matt tasted her and she wriggled and moaned in response, thrusting herself at his face, perched atop the bench amongst the leftovers.   He found himself torn between the desire to have her explode on his face, or to stop what they were doing so he could get inside her.   Never good at delaying gratification, with her trembling beneath his mouth he knew she was close.   Shit, he was close to coming too.   A decision was in order.
    He pulled himself away; she groaned in frustration and looked at him as if he'd gone completely mad.   He kissed her and she lapped at him, devouring her own juices from his face.
    "I want you," he gasped between kisses, "but we need a condom."
    "No, don't stop." Her strangled cry was more ammunition than his tortured body needed; he couldn't deny her, couldn't leave her hanging.   Working his way back down her sweaty body, he parted her with his thumbs.   At the touch of his tongue her trembling began anew. Matt peered up as best he could and she moaned incoherently, grasped his head with one hand and ground him into her.  
    As she bucked and writhed he felt his own orgasm rumbling deep inside, felt the familiar stirrings in his balls, that aching need for release.   If he didn't stop this he'd come all over the floor.   There was no way of stopping any of it.   He resigned himself and waited for the rush of her orgasm.
    Letting go of his head, Tamsen gripped the counter top, caught her breath, arched back and he felt the sudden gush of her climax.   Her satisfied growl coupled with the sweet taste of her sent him over the edge.   Grasping her thighs and exhaling into her groin, he exploded in a rush all over the kitchen cupboards.
    Collapsing to his knees, he heard quiet giggling - not hysterical, but a little loopy sounding.   He cast a glance skywards and she was smiling down at him, her face flushed, her eyes shining.   She was even more beautiful and he was even more taken with her.
    "I've made another mess in your kitchen, haven't I?"
    He smiled, lifting himself so he could kiss her just under her navel.   "No, I don't believe this was all your doing - I think I have to take responsibility for some of it."

    Tamsen's post-coital bubble broke and she had a sudden flash of what she must look like, perched on the countertop in amongst the used plates and cutlery, wearing nothing but her shoes.   Color rushed to her cheeks and she knew it had nothing to do with delayed orgasm.   The man had a mighty way with his mouth.
    Matt backed away, almost awkward, putting some distance between them, globules of come dripping from his rapidly diminishing cock.
    "This is typical of me," he stammered. "Not thinking through the consequences of my well-thought-out - not - actions."
    The emphasis on the word made her laugh.   "Come here."   She motioned to the space between her legs, all