For Dementedx, christyZ, traceit, and Valintinas. Thank you so much for your kind reviews and encouragement! It's very motivational. I hope you're all 18 years or older, because this chapter contains graphic adult content. If such content offends you, or you're too young to read it, please skip ahead. The story will still make sense, I promise.

6

I leaned over the bed, kissing him gently on the lips, and he returned the same level of pressure, making the kiss soft and slow and completely unlike the raw merging of our mouths that had occurred last night. His hands came up to carefully cradle my face, and he held me that way for a long time, building the intensity with each passing minute as our tongues met and tangled. At some point his hands slid down my body to grasp my waist, and he pulled me down so that I was splayed on top of him, pressed against him nearly from head to toe. He was so warm, and it felt so good to touch him, so I did. Twining my fingers in his hair, I trailed them down to caress his back, arms, shoulders, chest. There hadn't been time last night for the full exploration his body clearly warranted. Obviously I needed to rectify that situation immediately.

Pulling away from him slightly, I dropped tiny kisses on his face, eyelids, cheeks, jaw. I pulled his head back, revealing the strong column of his throat, and moved my lips slowly down it, licking and sucking much as he had the night before, though without the violence. His breathing became heavy as I scraped my teeth lightly against a pulse point, pressed my lips to the dip in his collarbone then traced it with my tongue, followed his clavicle over to his shoulder, nibbled softly as the crook of his neck. The throbbing of his pulse was practically audible, and I could feel it against my mouth as I teased him.

He attempted to pull me up to meet his lips again, but I resisted. I wanted to taste him and drive him at least as crazy as he had driven me. Message received, he dropped his hands, running his fingers through my hair and caressing my shoulders as I moved slowly downward to flick my tongue against his nipples. This is a good move, incidentally, somewhat unexpected, but it's not always effective; I remembered the way he'd gasped when I'd touched him there last night, and I wasn't disappointed in his reaction now. His breath caught and his hands tightened momentarily, so I did it again, slowly building up gentle suction until he was writhing and panting, making desperate little moans as his fingers became more and more tangled in my hair.

I discovered the rest of his upper body this same way, fingers stroking lightly, lips skimming across his taut, smooth skin, tasting salt, pausing every time he made an encouraging sound or inhaled in a sharp, encouraging way. His inner arm, the crook of his elbow, the spot directly above his hipbones, each was especially sensitive and I felt a sense of achievement as I learned these facts. It was intensified by the fact that I had made him nearly incoherent, which was really only fair but also wasn't enough. What I wanted, really wanted, was to make him forget himself completely, his problems, his disappointments, his name… Everything, because if I could do that for him it would help me forget myself.

My hands drifted down, nails scratching lightly at his inner thighs even as I kissed his lower abdomen, and I could feel his stomach muscles tense under his skin as he held his breath. I enjoyed the feeling of power, of having him at my mercy, because I knew what he wanted and I liked the fact that I could decide whether or not to give it to him. Not that the decision was especially hard to make; I was nearly as incoherent with desire as he was, intoxicated by the taste of him, the feel of his whole body coming alive under my hands, and I wanted more of that, more of everything.

Carefully, I took his cock in my hand, marveling at the velvety texture and the way something could be so smooth, so soft and yet so unbelievably hard. I stroked him with a firm touch, base to tip, and now that I really thought about the mechanics of this I realized it was going to be something of a challenge. But I thrive in the face of adversity, or whatever, and felt myself more than equal to the task. Leaning forward, I placed my open mouth on the head, neither sucking nor kissing but just letting him feel the wet heat. He groaned loudly, and I looked up to meet his eyes. There was naked hunger on his face, lust and longing and maybe a tinge of disbelief, and I smiled coyly.

"Is this what you want?" I asked, and the low, husky tone in my voice was unexpected and unfeigned.

He laughed breathlessly, as though to say You're kidding, right? "God yes. Yes, yes, yes."

I didn't have the heart to tease him any further, didn't feel the need to make him literally beg, and I smiled again before twirling my tongue around the base of his head, then taking the very tip into my mouth and sucking gently. Groaning, he placed his hands on the back of my head, buried his fingers in my hair, and I expected him to push me down, control me, which actually I usually hated. It was just so presumptuous, but I was prepared to forgive him for it. Luckily, I didn't have to. After a moment he released his hold and gripped the sheets instead, and I almost laughed because it reminded me so much of his other gentlemanly acts (though this one required much greater self-sacrifice than paying for our cab) and that thought was amusing. But laughter in this specific situation would undoubtedly give him a complex for the rest of his life, so I refrained and even made a concession. I lifted my head and reestablished eye-contact, took his hand and returned it to its former position. "Show me what you like."

His fingers tightened almost involuntarily in my hair, but there was a shadow of uncertainty on his face. "Don't want to hurt you," he murmured, and though this word should be completely out of place in this situation, it was really fucking endearing.

"I can take it," I assured him, brazen.

The shadow was gone. "You think so?" he challenged, and the man from the night before was back. His expression was wicked, his voice was dangerous, and somewhere inside I was relieved, because endearing was much more threatening to me than dangerous.

"Oh yes." I was confident in my response.

"Then take it," he growled, placing his other hand in my hair too, and slowly forcing me down, all the way down, until I could feel him in the back of my throat. The entire time our gazes had been locked on one another's, and I reveled in his almost tortured expression even as I imagined the erotic picture I made for him.

"This," he said harshly, holding me down and never wavering in his stare. "This is what I like."

As you might have noticed, I have some submissive tendencies, which he was certainly capable of exploiting. He set our pace, set our rhythm, guided me up and down his length and to be honest I think I enjoyed it at least as much as he did. His broken moans, curses commands and blasphemies, his fingers clutching desperately at my hair, were intensely arousing, and I could feel the warmth between my legs spreading throughout my body, bringing every nerve ending I possessed to attention. After a few minutes his movements became erratic and more forceful; I could tell by the look on his face that he was very close, and I knew that if I lowered my hand and touched myself even lightly I'd be seeing stars.

Unexpectedly, he dropped his hands to his sides, clutching just as desperately at the sheets as he had at my hair, closing his eyes tightly, and I wasn't entirely certain but I thought he might be mumbling vocal exercises to himself. All of this gave him a chance to recover some composure, and he reached down after a moment to grip my shoulders and pull me up in a single rough motion. Our lips met, and it was like the night before all over again, kisses so deep and intense they were almost painful.

I straddled him without lifting my mouth from his, and he grabbed my waist hard enough to bruise, steadying me as I positioned myself until finally I could sink down onto him, my entire body crying out in gratitude as he filled me, opening me in a way I was rapidly becoming addicted to. The angle gave me the control, and I moved frantically above him. He slipped his hands under his shirt, running them down my back and up my chest, cupping my breasts and pinching my nipples hard. It should have been painful but wasn't because at this point pain didn't exist, everything was pleasure.

He kissed a trail from my lips to my throat, running his tongue along the barely healed marks he'd made the night before, teasing my ear, biting my earlobe gently before tugging hard on my hair, pulling my head back. His eyes locked with mine, and they were dark and intense and burning.

"Say my name," he commanded urgently, and as he moved one hand between my legs to tease my clit I gladly complied.

It was a relief to say his name, a relief just to know it, and I murmured it over and over again in a litany interspersed with "oh" "god" "yes" and "please" as he stroked my clit rhythmically, jolts of pleasure forming rungs on an endless ladder that lead somewhere I really wanted to go. Finally he adjusted his hand so that my clit received constant stimulation, pleasure without pause, which I suppose would be the equivalent of a people mover or elevator or something, which I wasn't thinking about at all because I was so close.

"Will, please god please don't leave me like this please!" I moaned. And yes I was begging and yes I was frantic and no I didn't care. I just needed him.

When he kissed me, he tasted just as desperate as I was. "I won't."

And then he moved just right, just the way I'd wanted him to, and I sobbed in relief as my entire world dissolved in the best possible way. Nothing existed except me, except him, except the pleasure radiating throughout my body and his, because I was coming and he was coming inside me and he was moaning my name, which I'd always thought would sound weird but never had the chance to find out because I was already Norah Castle the first time I had sex. And the way he said my name, caressing the syllables with his harsh, beautiful voice, I decided it didn't sound weird at all.

TBC