Authors: Maya James
As much
as I adore looking at him, closing my eyes enhances the sensations. Justin lets
that nipple slide from his mouth, pinching its tip between his tongue and his
top, front teeth, and slurps in my other. A whole new shower of glitter
caresses me.
My
clitoris cannot take many more unanswered throbs and twinges, so my hips rock
upward, hoping my pussy finds some part of him—any part—to rub against.
One of
his talented hands finally begins to descend my titillated body; down my
stomach, over the mound of my pelvic bone, diving into the river of juices
flowing out of my hot folds. My clit screams in a relief under the pressure of
his wet fingertips spreading me open, stretching the soft hood off my stiff,
pleading tip. I catch my breath and hold it. He lowers his head and flicks his
tongue at my bellybutton while he strums me toward a climax.
His
weight shifts, but I still don't open my eyes. Whatever he's doing I will feel
it soon enough. I hear the cling of metal, like silverware, then his hand
returns to my body. I feel him smear something across my chest, down my
stomach. My eyes snap open and I find him spreading the cheesecake all over me,
his eager mouth following behind, licking it off me. Without any care, he covers
my pussy with it, rubbing it around his other busy hand.
"You'd
better plan on licking me clean," I tell him.
He
smiles. God that fucking smile. "Oh, I certainly plan to." His tongue
runs down my stomach, lapping up every bit of the cake and sending shivers
through my core.
Justin
positions himself lower and pushes two fingers into me gently, teasing my
G-spot. He soaks them in my fluids and pulls them out, scooping some cake onto
them and bringing them to his mouth. Without wasting any time, he stuffs them
in, sucking them clean while he moans.
He
drives me insane, showing me how much I turn him on. He balances himself on one
of my knees, holding me open to him and thrusts more fingers back in me again,
jerking them in and out, and fucking me with them. I welcome the familiar
pulsing of my growing orgasm—even though I know he won't let it happen yet.
"You
make the cheesecake taste even better," he teases.
He
smears the cake around my clit with his other hand, letting its stiffness snap
from under his pressure. He runs his thumb down the length of it slowly, and it
pops up excitedly as he runs off its end. He pulls his fingers from me and
scoops up more of the cake again, licking them clean.
A low
rumble emerges from his chest, slowly growing into a growl. Then he can't take
it anymore, and he thrusts his face between my legs, lapping up the cheesecake
with my wetness, mixing it with the taste of me until all of the cake is gone.
My clit is teased and ready. His tongue had been everywhere, over every inch,
in every fold, and now I want him like a warrior should.
I grab
him; one hand has his ear, the other a fistful of his hair, and I crush him
into me. "Don't tease me anymore, Justin. I can't take it. I need you to
suck on it like you do, and make me cum."
I feel
him slide his face into position, preparing his gifted lips and magnificent
jaw, and finally the wonderful pressure of his mouth sucking my clitoris in to
his waiting tongue. I'm filled with tremors, my entire body shaking and
quivering as a deep, guttural moan escapes me.
Shards
of intense pleasure pierce me. I have no control at the moment, I'm unable to even
let go of his head. A massive orgasm is building inside me like the funnel of a
tornado that has fully formed and taken shape; and now is reaching down towards
the earth, slowly stretching and reaching towards its explosive destination.
The power of it just keeps intensifying under the relentless efforts of
Justin's mouth.
In the
instant before I erupt, I'm vaguely aware of Justin's hand reaching up and
grabbing my breast, gently pinching my nipple.
"It's
here! It's here!"
He
sucks harder, rolls my nipple between his fingers.
"Cumming!"
The
tornado touches down, and I am a convulsing mess thrashing around the floor
under our Christmas tree. My cries escape me in a long, boisterous exhales of
spent ecstasy. While I pray that I'm not hurting him, I can't ease my grip on
his head at all.
I ride
the powerful storm, waiting for it to slowly blow itself out, knowing there
must be an end. It doesn't show itself for a bit, my womanhood draining in my
convulsions, my warrior exhausted until finally I am able to breathe.
Justin
hears the change in my sounds, feels it in my satisfied body as I relax and
surrender to the afterglow. His mouth softens, and his tongue slows to a pace
that I can handle without violently twitching him away with my hips and my
hands are finally able to release him.
In the
soft glow of the candles and Christmas lights, I watch him sit up and wipe my
wetness off his chin. He carefully slides his legs underneath mine and pulls me
up until I am sitting in his lap staring at him. I run my hand across his
beautiful face, taken by the way he looks at me.
"I
wish I could tell you how you make me feel, that the words existed to describe
how you satisfy me," I tell him in a worn, hoarse voice.
He
smiles. "There's no need. I hear it when you say it with your eyes. I hear
everything you want to tell me when you look at me," he replies softly.
Justin
slides his hands under me, lifts me for a moment, and then gently lowers me
onto him, holding in my gasp by pressing his lips to mine. Every inch of him
slips into me comfortably. He growls his pleasure at the back of his throat
while I sink to the root of his hardness. My arms wrap around his head and I start
playing with his hair.
For a
moment we are motionless, enjoying our connected bodies as we breathe as one.
Our mouths open for each other passionately. My musky scent is still on his
chin.
Finally
he begins to raise and lower me in his lap so slowly that I only sense the
motion when I feel my body lift away from him and my face tilts to keep my lips
on his. Then I feel his cock pushing back inside me, gliding along my wet labia
until my clitoris is pressed into the base of him. It's like I weigh nothing on
his strong hands and arms. There's no effort, no strain in his muscles, only a
demanding lust that compels him.
When
I'm up at the tip of him, the air makes the wetness cold on my exposed
womanhood. I welcome the warmth of his chiseled body when my wetness is pressed
back to him.
I will
cum again, and he knows it. My vaginal muscles squeeze around him in compulsive
spasms, clenching him to no avail. Justin neither stops, nor speeds up, holding
us to this maddening pace. Chills cover me, and the hair on my neck stands from
the excitement and admiration of his reserve.
After
some time has passed, my orgasm is threatening. He's not far behind. I can hear
his breath growing deep and quick, and I know him well now. He will make me cum
first, unwilling to climax until he's sure that I have, but I can make us cum
together. That's what I want for Christmas, to make love
with
him, to
meld our passion together.
His
breathing increases.
My
orgasm crawls to the edge.
Without
warning him, I unfurl my folded legs from around him and flatten them to the
floor. His faces registers the complete surprise as I grab his shoulders before
he can react and begin slamming myself down on him, more than tripling the pace
he'd set, squatting and lifting myself.
"OH
GOD!" he shouts.
I'm so
turned on, and I have his hardness burying into my G-spot when my second orgasm
explodes, and I feel like I'm flooding his lap.
Justin
shouts again, but it's no longer words, just a long, joyous release as we cum
together, squeezing each other closer, tighter. It stops my squatting, but we
no longer need that, both of us draining together under the contracting and
releasing of our bodies. I have my head nestled into his neck, moaning loudly
into his ear.
His
strong arms hold me as I bear down on him, my pussy milking and clenching every
drop of his climax, until we are both reduced to sensitive, spent lovers unable
to move.
We find
each other’s mouths again, and finish the same way we started, kissing under
the pretty lights of our Christmas tree, grateful to have found each other.
I HAD PLANNED TO
wake up before Justin in the morning for a change to make him breakfast in bed.
I wanted to bring his gifts in here and wake him up that way, presents around
our bed, getting to watch him sleep.
When my
eyes open, the room is still dim and silent. I'm afraid to move; I have to be
careful. For several minutes I just listen, waiting for sounds. It's hard to
hear over my own thumping heart, but I find his breathing, long steady drags of
calm air. He isn't moving at all, not a flinch or tick, nothing.
Slowly,
oh so very slowly, I turn my face toward him so that I can keep my eyes on him
while I slide out of bed. I have to do this right.
I see
the shape of him in the blankets, motionless. I turn further and find one of
his arms laying limp on the outside of our covers. Then I find his face, those
fire green eyes looking at me under his amazing smile.
"Are
you trying to wake up and sneak out of bed before me?" he teases.
"Son-of-a-bitch!
You couldn't give me this one?" I hiss at him while he laughs.
I'm
mad, really made at him, but he doesn't care. He finds enough joy in my
sentiment of trying that he didn't need me to be successful.
I
wanted to be successful! Dammit!
"I'm
sorry," he whispers. “I don't do it on purpose. I can't help myself."
There's
no condescending in his voice. He's not teasing or pacifying me and my anger
begins to shrink.
How
could it not?
I turn
over and lay my arm along his chest. My fingertip plays with his left nipple
and he laughs and moves my hand. I know it bothers him—that's exactly why I did
it.
"Now
we’re even," I whisper. He laughs again and squeezes me in his strong
arms. "I had plans," I said.
"Don't
worry about plans today, everything is taken care of."
"What
do you mean?" I ask curiously.
He
smiles again. "You'll find out when it's time." I love the mystery.
We laid
there long enough for me to wake up all the way. The Christmas morning
excitement I'm feeling won't let me relax, so I drag him into the kitchen to
make us breakfast—at least I get part of my plan accomplished.
Justin
only smiles at me as I cook.
"I
know it won't be as amazing as something you could probably make," I
defend nervously.
"Bullshit,"
he barks. "It looks and smells wonderful. Besides, I suck at breakfast—to
be honest."
"Really?"
I ask stunned,
and relieved
.
OMG!
Something he's not great at?
"It's
true," he answers, easily laughing at himself. "I'm not sure why, but
I really know how to fuck up a pancake."
He
makes me laugh.
"You're
so beautiful in the morning," he says, I think to change the subject.
"As
opposed to the rest of the day?" I quip.
"Yes,"
he replies flatly. "You're only beautiful in the morning—the rest of the
day you're gorgeous."
He
stands behind me as I stir our eggs, folding his arms around my waist and
kissing my neck. "I love you," he says in between the soft touches of
his lips.
We
bring the food out to use the temporary dining table from last night one last
time before it's taken away. Justin insists on turning on the tree lights
before we eat, and he's right, it adds a cozy feeling that does settle my
excitement enough that I can finish eating before I begin reaching for the
gifts that I want him to open.
Now
several of them are piled around him waiting to be torn open.
"Hold
on," he laughs. He digs under the tree and pulls out a couple for me. "We'll
do this together."
I'm
saving the best for last. I'm not sure how they will go over with him, I know
he'll like them, but I want him to love them. We shuffle through several very
nice boxes for each other, a blue, long sleeve Armani that makes me drool when
I think about it on him, a pleated, red dress by Jason Wu that makes me drool
when I think about it on me.
Ha
ha—and when he rips it off me!
The
pile under the tree shrinks, and the mess around us grows. "I'm saving my
best for last, too," Justin says, reading how excited I'm getting as I
study the last few things I have for him. "You'll have to wait for it,
though. It's not here. It's not a
thing
."
Okay,
now I'm overly curious. What the hell?
Justin
takes the box I pass him. It's not very large, and he stares at it as if it
confuses him. "I usually have an idea about a gift before I open it, but I
don't have a clue with this," he says truthfully as he begins to pick at
the edge of the wrapping paper.