“I’ve never wanted to do anything more in my life.” He said, and then kissed me senseless.
His tongue worked over mine, plunging and tangling, sucking my bottom lip, and then nipping it softly. He shifted, and then I was shirtless. I bit my lip. I wasn’t self-conscious about my body; or, I wasn’t until Max started running his eyes over my body.
My body reminded me of most fourteen year olds. Short, no boobs, and absolutely no curves. I worked out from time to time, so I was in fairly decent shape, but you can’t fix something you don’t have. I was a soccer player in high school, and still enjoyed the odd game here and there when I had time.
He growled in frustration. I was wearing a camisole underneath my shirt, just as I normally did.
I’m a very clumsy person, in the morning I start out with a clean shirt. By one, I’ve spilled something on my shirt at least once. Most likely it has to do with my lunch, but at least three out of seven days, it requires me to change my shirt at work, or risk everyone and their brother ogling my stain. Therefore, I got smart and always wore a camisole instead of a bra, because, honestly, I didn’t need one anyway.
“You’re beautiful. Stop worrying.” He said, before running his finger over my lip to stop me from biting it.
His eyes zeroed in on the tattoo that peaked out at the bottom of my camisole. I held my breath in anticipation. What would he think of it? I got it on a whim. It was my eighteenth birthday, and I felt the need to do something that would piss my parents off. Earlier that day they’d grounded me for sneaking out the night before. For that reason, I snuck out again and got a tattoo that I knew they would hate.
His large, rough palmed hand ran up my left side, slowly lifting my shirt as he skimmed it up my body. He froze when he saw it. Then bellowed with laughter. I scowled at him, and then cracked a smile myself. It was a weird tattoo, but I loved it.
On my hip, I sported a six-shooter. It spanned from just above my hipbone, down to the top of my bikini line on my thigh. It was actually quite beautiful with its elegant scrollwork on the shiny metal. It looked like an old west type of gun, and I was damn lucky I’d gone to a reputable tattoo artist, instead of one that would have made it look like shit.
His laughing stopped, and, finally, he said, “This is the best tattoo I’ve ever seen.”
I smiled. I was happy he liked it. “It sticks out the top of my jeans, too. So, when I’m wearing pants, it looks like I have a gun in the waistband. At eighteen, it was the best ‘fuck you’ I could give to my parents. Or at least all I could think of at the time.”
His other hand went up the other side of my shirt, and he ran his hands up until he encountered the shelf bra section of the camisole. Stopping for a moment, he closed his eyes, and then lifted the shirt up and over my breasts. They popped free of their enclosure, and bounced until settling. My nipples beaded at the feeling of cold air hitting them, and my mouth watered as I watched Max study them with a fierce concentration.
Lowering his head, he gave one nipple a slow light lick, flicking it lightly with the tip of his tongue. Then he switched to the other breast. My nipples were harder than ever, and I moaned, wanting him to suck them into his mouth. Not that I said that though. I arched a tiny bit, and then let my back fall back to the bed.
“More?” Max asked.
“Yes.” I hissed.
He gave a devilish smile, before lifting the shirt the rest of the way off my body. There I lay, naked, except for my Angry Bird underwear, and he was still mostly clothed. His pants, belt, socks, and shoes were still covering the lower half of his body. I eyed them, wishing he would take them off so I could see his body.
“You want me naked?” He asked aware of my silent need.
I nodded my head; his hands went behind his back. When his hand emerged again, he placed a big black behemoth of a pistol on the nightstand beside the bed, and then went to work on his belt and buttons. He leaned down once they were loosened, and unlaced his big black boots, toeing them off one by one.
He shucked his pants down, and my pupils dilated at the most beautiful man I have ever seen. Jesus. His abs weren’t the tightly ridged ones as you see on all the male models. His were most definitely defined; yet, they weren’t eye-poppingly obvious. On the other hand, the V that pointed to the groin area could make tears come to your eyes.
He had a tattoo that looked like the remains of a tattered flag that curled around his hip. Next to that tattoo, just a few short inches away, was the biggest penis I’d ever seen. I gulped dramatically when the size finally processed through my brain. It was large and thick, curved slightly to the right.
Max started laughing when he heard my audible gulp. “It’ll be okay, honey. It’s not that big.”
“If you say so, Max. Just don’t rip me a new one.” I squeaked.
He laughed. “You know, it’s probably only average size. I’ve never had any complaints before.”
“I don’t want to hear about your other conquests.” I growled.
“Yes, ma’am.” He said, right before he ripped the panties from my body, bent down, and circled my clit with his tongue.
“Eeek.” I squealed and then arched off the bed in shock.
Rory had never done this before; it was a surprise to realize that it actually tickled a little bit. His bristled jaw ran over the inside of my thighs, and I couldn’t help it. I giggled.
I stopped, though, when his finger entered me in one penetrating thrust. No teasing for Max. Just one slow, smooth glide. Crooking his finger, he dragged it along the upper side of my vagina, searching for my g-spot. Not that I knew where it was, because Rory damn sure didn’t try to find it before.
I’d only had wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am’s. Never anything that could even compare to this. With each flick of his tongue, he would pull his finger out, rubbing against a spot inside me that would send lightening striking through my veins.