He wanted all of her. He wanted it slow, yet fast. He wanted her to scream, to orgasm over and over at the same time he wanted to just pound himself into her and let himself come in a hard, hot burst. Still playing and licking, he shifted his hand to her jeans and undid the zipper. Slipping his hand inside, he cupped the outside of her panties, feeling her heat soak into him. He started to move his middle finger, bending it so it slid up and down on her mound, the satin of her panties making a smooth, easy surface to glide across.
Imogen moaned very softly into his ear, her hands abandoning his ass and hurrying up his back to grip his shoulders for balance. The way she clung to him, the way she trusted him to give her pleasure, thrilled Ty. He wanted to give her ecstasy like she’d never known before, and he wanted to have the total satisfaction of watching her shatter beneath his touch.
Moving inside her panties, Ty gave his own groan of approval when the pad of his finger hit slick moisture immediately. The farther he moved down, the wetter she was, and their breathing matched, a steady pant, pant, as Ty dipped inside her then drew back to swirl the hot fluid around her swollen clitoris.
“Oh, Ty,” she murmured.
“What, honey?” He buried his mouth in her hair as he worked her with his finger, aroused by the feel of her tightness, the way her body gave to welcome him when he thrust inside her, the way she gripped his shoulders convulsively each time his finger went deep.
“I . . . I . . .”
“Yeah?” Ty nuzzled her ear, dipping his tongue inside.
Imogen groaned and swayed back on her feet, inadvertently pulling away from his finger.
Ty took his hand out of her panties completely and urged her back, his hands on her waist.
“What?” she asked. “Why did you stop? Where do you want me to go?”
“Just back up,” he said. “I want you against the wall.” He wanted help in keeping her still while he f**ked her with his fingers, then his tongue, then his cock.
“The wall?” she asked, curious excitement in her voice as she walked tentatively backward.
“Yep. Almost there,” he said, putting his hand behind her head when she reached it so she wouldn’t conk her skull. “Now all you have to do is stand there.”
Ty returned his finger to its previous position, only this time he added a companion so he had two fingers moving in and out of her hot, tight hole. Imogen stiffened and her eyes and mouth shot wide-open. Her hand grabbed his wrist and held it while he fingered her, pulling all the way out to flick across her clit with each stroke. When her breathing got erratic and her back arched, Ty knew another minute or two would have her at an orgasm, so he slowly withdrew and bent down.
“Why did you stop again?” she asked, disappointment in her voice.
“I’m taking your shoes off,” he said, going down on one knee, lifting her foot and doing just that. “Then I’m taking your pants off.”
“Right. Of course,” she said, obediently lifting her other foot so he could slip off her flat black shoes.
“How many times do you come, Emma Jean?” Ty asked, as he stood back up and moved his hands inside the back of her jeans and panties, cupping the smooth flesh of her tight little ass.
“What do you mean?” She leaned into him, her eyes half-closed.
“In one sex session, do you usually come once, twice, three times . . . five?”
Her forehead creased with her frown. “Usually just once. But it’s a good one. Why?”
“Just strategizing how soon I’m going to let you come.” He nipped her bottom lip. “It sounds like we’re going to have to draw it out.”
“We don’t have to,” she said. “It’s not like I don’t continue to enjoy myself post-coital, because I do. So don’t feel that you need to cease and desist once I have.”
“But the buildup is always better.” Ty shoved her jeans and panties down and lifted her leg so he could remove them, brushing his lips over her soft, ivory thigh. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure you enjoy it.”
With her pants and panties half off and his mouth on her thigh, he was inches from her sex. He could feel the warmth of her inner thighs, he could smell the tang of her arousal. Ty turned his head and breathed in her scent deeply.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Smelling you.”
“Why?” She sounded more curious than horrified, which would probably be the reaction of a lot of women.
“Because you smell good. Like a woman who is very turned on and that turns me on.”
“I am turned on.”
“I know.” Ty shifted a little closer and lavished his tongue on her clit, using his fingers to spread her so that he could have a clear view and taste of her swollen pink flesh.
“Oh, God,” she said, the words low and drawn out. “Ty.”
His name tearing off her lips like that made his own body clench and tighten and he jerked back. She gave a cry of disappointment, but he ignored it and made fast work of pulling her pants down her other leg and tossing them somewhere behind him. Ty stood up and with one hand slipped his finger inside her again to keep her hot and wet and eye-rolling eager, while he dug in his pocket with his free hand for a condom.
Holding the packet in his mouth, he undid his jeans and shoved them and his boxer briefs down one-handed. They got to about his knees and he figured they would fall on their own after that. Using his teeth, he opened the condom and managed to get it rolled on his erection all while still stroking inside Imogen. Pleased with his multitasking skills, Ty finished securing the condom then took Imogen’s hands, which had been fluttering around by his waist, and gripped them together. He raised her arms up over her head, wrists together, flat against the wall.
When she would have protested, he swallowed her words with a kiss, one that tasted of her arousal. He loved to kiss a woman after his mouth had been between her thighs. He loved to give her a taste of her own desire, loved the woman who took it, enjoyed it, appreciated it. Imogen clearly did, her tongue slipping into his mouth, kissing him feverishly and eagerly. Ty nudged her legs a little apart with his feet, stepping out of his jeans as he did, enjoying the feel of her hips arching to bump against his, her ni**les taut and thrust forward for his attention.
“Go up on your toes, Emma Jean.”
He knew she wouldn’t protest, that she would do it. But she would ask why, and she did.
“Why?” she asked, even as she obeyed and raised herself up on her toes, providing him with a gorgeous view, her arms up, her br**sts heaving with her rapid breathing, her hips and legs long and sensual.