Jessica Clare - Last Breath

Her gaze is downward, and she’s silent. All I can hear is my own heavy breathing that sounds like harsh static on a radio airwave.

“I don’t know if I can trust you,” she says finally. “That’s the issue for me. I don’t know what I’ll be able to take or not until I’m there.”

It dawns on me that Regan doesn’t need to trust me; she needs to know that I not only trust her but I’m okay with everything that she does. I need to give myself over to her fully and let her do what I asked—which was use me, take me. I force my breathing to calm. “Here’s my promise: I’m not ever going to get angry for anything you do or don’t do in the bedroom.”

She bites her lip and then passes a hand over the surface of my body, and it’s more erotic than if she had performed a lap dance.

“I’m not sure what I should do. Like, should I take my clothes off?”

Yes please. But this is her show. “Whatever you want.”

She fingers the bottom of her shirt again and then casts a glance upward behind a veil of lashes, looking mysterious and coy but I know it’s her lack of surety. I give her my reckless smile, as if what she does is of no importance. As if I could take it or leave it. As if I wasn’t going to die if she didn’t put a hand on me.

I offer up some suggestions. “You could kiss me. You could let me kiss your sweet pussy. Or you could rub against me.” Or all of the above.

"I’m a little wet," she admits.

Me too.

"Climb on up then and let me kiss you between your legs and get you good and wet. You'd like that, right? Wouldn't you like my tongue lapping up all that juice?” The invisible restraints against my arms are chafing hard. I want to flip her over and bury my fingers and tongue in that hot, wet cunt but I promised her that I wouldn’t move until she told me I could.

But I’m still going to talk.

"I thought I was in charge?” she mock complains, but I can tell she’s more comfortable.

"You are, baby. I’m throwing out ideas."

Regan tugs off her shirt and then throws a leg over me so that she’s straddling my abdomen. Her damp panties are rubbing against my bare skin. My hands dig into the mattress as I fight the urge to grab her ass. This is so much harder than anything I’ve ever done before. My only outlet right now is my mouth, so I let it fly.

"Oh yeah. I can feel you, sweetheart. I can feel that you are turned on. If you were a little higher you could place one of those teacup breasts into my mouth. I'd love to suck one of your tits until each one is good and hard. Do you think you'd feel that between your legs? I can’t wait until my mouth is all over you and I’ve licked and sucked on every inch of your skin at least twice.”

She runs her hands over my chest, smoothing her palms along the planes of my pectorals and then down to my abdomen. I’ve never been a gym rat. I’ve worked out because it helped me survive on missions, but now I’m very glad that my body is cut because I can tell by the worshipful way Regan caresses every ridge, how she shifts on top of me, that my body turns her on.

“Tell me what you want,” I beg. “You are killing me.”

“Will you watch me again?”

I nod eagerly. She places three fingers against my lips and I suck them inside my mouth, coating each finger with my tongue. With a pop, she pulls her fingers away, and I’m reluctant to let even that contact go.

My eyes track those glistening fingers until they disappear into her panties. “Take your panties off, sugar. Let me really see you work your pussy.”

Her chest heaving, Regan does as I tell her. She slides backward between my legs and pushes her panties off her ass, lifting a little, and I catch a glimpse of her soft hair and the pretty dark pink flesh of her cunt. I lick my lips and saliva pools as I remember how good she tastes. I need more of that. I need to feast on her.

Then she’s back on my chest, a little higher now. “Am I too heavy for you?” she gasps as she rubs herself, the three fingers I sucked on now getting wet from her own juice.

“Not at all.” Her slight weight isn’t what’s killing me right now. It’s my inability to touch her. "But if you come up a little higher, I can help you out. I can suck on your clit and lap your come as you finger yourself.”

Her fingers stutter as she responds to my words. Biting her lip, she peers down at me indecisively and then gives me a small nod. I refrain from a double fist pump but this is better than a hole in one. Rising on her knees, she inches forward and I move downward.

“Grab hold of the headboard with your one hand, for stability,” I tell her. She does but her pussy is still about an inch too high. I think she’s afraid she’s going to break my face or something, but if anything is breaking off it’s my dick because it is so goddamned hard right now a stiff wind could shatter it. “Lower baby. Sit on me.”

“Won’t I suffocate you?” she worries but lowers until that juicy pussy is resting right on top of my mouth.

“Oh, baby, if only.” I give her one long lick—from her fingers rubbing the top of her pubic bone all the way to her tiny rear rosette.

“Ohhhhh,” she breathes out.

“This pussy is so gorgeous. It’s shaped like one of those white flowers, and every time I push away a fold with my tongue, I find a more tasty delicacy.” I’d tell her more but I’m too busy running my tongue inside her, scooping out her arousal, sucking on each cunt lip and then her clit. I can hear her panting above me, each quickened breath telling me how much she wants this, but even if I couldn’t hear her, I can see the visible evidence of her arousal in how wet she is and how engorged her flesh is. I spear her with my tongue and then lash her clit until she’s thrashing above me and her thighs are clenched against my cheeks. She’s given up fingering herself to grip my hair, alternatingly pulling on my hair and pushing my face closer to her pussy. I love it. I love her fierce touch and her physical exertions. She’s so into this, into me, that she has lost control of her senses and completely let go.

I would rend anyone limb from limb who tried to come between Regan and me. From now on, the only one who will hear her scream when she comes is me. The only man who will get to taste the nectar between her legs is me. The only cock that will ever pleasure her, from this moment until I never draw another breath, is mine.

I eat at her, lapping at her arousal and listening to the sounds of her pleasure as she comes and comes. My arms feel heavy with the desire to touch her and my dick is pulsing with need, but the promise I made to her is just as effective as bonds. I’d never hurt her, never break my promise to her. Not in this lifetime or the next.

When the last of her orgasm leaves her weak, she collapses against the wall and headboard and then slowly slides down until she’s prostrate on top of me. “Can I hold you?” I whisper against her ear.

“Please,” she says. And my arms band around her so tightly she squeaks.

“Sorry.” I force myself to loosen my hold, but I don’t let go.

Regan

DANIEL ’S HAND STROKES UP AND down my back in slow, soothing motions. I’m lying on top of him, my legs spread over his hips, my breasts mashed to his chest, and he’s quietly stroking my back and ignoring the raging hard-on I feel pressed against my pussy. We’re both ignoring it. I suppose sooner or later, it needs to be addressed. Just . . . not right now. I’m feeling too good to think about anything but what we did.

His fingers dance along my spine in a light touch. “Did I break you?” he asks, and I hear a teasing note in his voice.

I laugh a little, but the truth is, I’m feeling a little stunned. That’s the first time I’ve ever been on the receiving end of oral, and it was every bit as good as it had been made out to be. I’d sat on Daniel’s face, and he’d acted like I was giving him a present. I think of Mike and how I’d blown him countless times and how he’d never reciprocated. “I’m not a big fan of pussy,” he’d tell me and complain about the smell, as if I was something diseased instead of his girlfriend. The few times I’d begged him to do more, he’d told me that guys who said they liked eating pussy were liars and made tuna jokes.

I sit up, a frown on my face as I stare down at Daniel.

“What?” he asks.

“Did you enjoy that?”

His eyes narrow and now he’s frowning, like he’s not entirely sure he understands the question. “Did I enjoy eating your pussy? Wasn’t it obvious?”

“Just answer the question.”

“I could eat that pussy for hours and never get tired of the way you taste,” Daniel tells me, and his fingers skim up my spine again. “Love your honey on my tongue and the way you shiver when I touch your clit. So, yeah, I fucking loved it.”

I tremble a little at the intensity of his gaze. “Sorry. I guess that was a silly question.”

“Not silly,” he says to me.

“Mike didn’t . . . he . . .”

“Can we not talk about Mike when you’re spread on top of me?” His hand stops moving along my spine, and the closed look on his face makes me realize I’ve hurt his feelings.

I need to make this better. So I lay back down on him and curl up against his hard chest, my cheek pressed against his heart. “I’m sorry. Mike’s my only real experience . . . before. And I’m starting to realize now that it wasn’t very good.”

He pats my back. “S’okay.”

“You ever have bad sex?” I ask him. My head feels deliciously comfy on his chest, and his nipple is a mere inch or two away from my face. I lift my fingers and begin to trace circles around it. Daniel’s got a dusting of chest hair all across his pectorals, but I like it. It feels warm and a little fuzzy against my cheek.

“Shit yeah. Who hasn’t?” His fingers move along my spine again, and after a moment he says, “I once banged a girl—a base bunny—who called me my sergeant’s name the entire time. We were both too drunk to care but, I admit, it kinda shriveled my dick when I sobered up. Never touched that ass again.”

“Because your feelings were hurt?” Poor Daniel.

“No, because Sarge was fucking disgusting. Man was seventy if he was a day, bow-legged, dentures, and the worst damn breath. Kinda insulted that she mistook us.”

I giggle at that, because I picture a girl mistaking this breathtakingly gorgeous man for that and it seems absurd. “Maybe she was really, really drunk.”

“Shit, I sure hope so. He had these bizarre caterpillar eyebrows that looked like they were ready to crawl off his face.”

I’m laughing now, all tension gone. He sounds so very disgruntled.

He chuckles underneath me, clearly pleased by my response. “Damn, Regan, but you have the prettiest laugh. I think I need to hear that more often.” And his fingers caress my cheek.

Just like that, my laughter dries up and I’m feeling relaxed and good . . . and even more blatantly aware of Daniel’s cock pressing against me. He’s ignoring it, but it’s obvious he wants me. And suddenly, I want him, too. I want to see if I can have sex with this man without freaking out. Oral sex with him had been amazing, but now I’m greedy and I want more. How good would flat-on-your-back, sweaty, pounding sex be? My wavering courage tells me that if I ride Daniel, it’ll be safer to get up, easier to run away.

But . . . I also wonder what it’d be like if Daniel was in charge. Would I lose my cool the moment he covers me? Or would I be too busy having the best orgasms of my life to even care?

Do I want to try? My fingers slide away from his nipple and move up to his mouth, and I trace his lips with my fingertips.

He inhales sharply, and his tongue reaches out to flick against my fingers. A low groan escapes him. “I can still taste you on your fingers.”

“Do you like it?” I ask softly.

“Makes my dick harder than a rock.”

I give my hips a little shift, rocking them against his erection. “I can tell.” My voice is becoming breathless with excitement. “Do you have condoms?”

“Yep.” No pretty words, no questioning if I’m sure or not. Just a solid affirmation. It’s handled. For some reason, that makes me smile. Everything’s always handled with Daniel. When I’m with him, it’s harder to spin out of control. He’s got me. I like that.

So I sit up a little and shift forward until my lips can reach his. I kiss him, because I like kissing this man. My mouth plays over his, the kiss light, gentle, and totally controlled by me. His lips brush over mine, his tongue flicking against my own, and it feels incredibly good. So good that I want to try and go a little further.