Just the Thought of You Ch. 02

He teased her at first. Letting his lips drift like a breath over hers. Allowing just the tip of his tongue to dart along the gentle bow curve. But it was too strong. The need to taste her completely. Everything. Everywhere. He pressed his mouth down on hers with such ferocity he had to steady her when her knees gave way.

He reached back to the counter-top behind her, sweeping the cutting board and the knife and every damned wilting vegetable into the sink with a satisfying clatter. Fuck dinner. Tightening his hold on her waist he lifted her, his lips never leaving hers, her feet dangling, sitting her firmly on the edge of the kitchen counter. He could feel her trembling, her confusion, her wondering at what he wanted with her. She pulled away from his lips.

"Jarod-"

He rubbed his thumbs along pulse just below her ears, eyes filled with the vision of her lips, swollen pinker from his kisses, just parted. He shrugged, breathing deep at the giddy sensation climbing up through his insides.

"Changed my mind. Don't want salad."

He was hungry, all right. Insanely hungry. But not for the pasta going cold on the stove. He pushed her knees wide apart with firm hands, nestling himself between her spread legs, pressing his hips and the aching ridge of his arousal into the warm nestling curve of her body.

He bent over her, still taller despite her perch. He threaded his fingers through the hair at the nape of her neck, tilting her face to him.

"So tell me," he flexed his hips in a slow grind against her, a low growl in his throat when she responded by tightening her knees around his hips, breathed a breathy whimper. She stared up, liquid gaze, into his eyes.

He bent in to nip at her neck. "You changed your mind. Why?" Punctuating his words with little bites. Harmless nibbles.

She had to blink and swallow before she found her voice, her breath hitching with every touch of teeth to skin. Startled each and every time, no matter how many times he did it. God, he loved making her speechless. He could feel her getting all jumpy against him, desperate for more.

"I was...an idiot," she said, closing her eyes, shoulders slumping.

He nibbled along the delicate line of her jaw, his fingers gripping into the soft part of her waist. "But I thought you were a smart girl," he crooned, thumbs working their way upwards from the breath-heaving curve of her ribs to the sweet underside of her breasts. Just the lightest touch. Just a brush of thumb pad along those curves and she was mumbling something incoherent.

He ducked down, escaping the arms she'd been wrapping around his neck. He found the tip of one breast with this teeth through the cotton shirt and her bra, biting gently, quick, thrilling at her squeal of surprise. Pushing her back onto the unforgiving tiles of the work-top, he wormed his hands up under that infuriating cotton top until he found bare stomach. She was so warm. So fluttery and breathy and solid and real all at the same time. He scooted her a little closer to the edge, fingers already searching along the waistband of the leggings. He hooked his fingers in, just above the little hollows on either hip, and began a very slow tug.

An inch of bare skin. Little soft kisses, then a nip and a bite, and she was arching up off the top and saying his name. Another inch and he was rubbing his tongue along the top band of her deliciously lacy panties. He stared down for a minute, strangely fascinated by the ridiculously innocent little bow right in the middle. Taking it lightly in his teeth, he pulled, stretching the elastic. Letting it go with a little stinging snap against her skin. Causing her to jump, surprising a squeak of a whimper out of her.

But his hands found their way to the tops of her thighs. His thumbs tracing their way steadily down, down into the dipping crease between her legs, gripping each thigh, thumbs pressing down hard in that little hollow behind the tendons of her inner thighs, brushing so close...so close.

"Oh, god...Jarod..."

She was struggling against him now, trying to sit up, but he was already spreading her, his face close enough to catch the scent of her. He nuzzled against her. Fuck, she was so wet. He bit down. Buried his face in that hot centre of her and bit down. Ignored her wailed expletive. Paid no heed to the small fingers twining painfully in his hair, pulling and pushing at him and babbling something about stopping or not stopping ever. Something like that.

He couldn't stop his thumbs any longer. They pressed inward, drawn to her, massaging in small, deep circles, finding the gentle give of her cunt through the taut fabric. He narrowed his bite, concentrating on the area just around her clit, pressing hard with his tongue against the already drenched fabric. God, she tasted good, and she wasn't even undressed.

He got his fingers under the waistband of the leggings and wrenched them down, his mouth already on the swollen mound of her sex, biting slow and deep through the barely-there fabric of her panties. The lace just slid over her skin, slick with her own wetness.

The leggings ended up on the floor. As did those ridiculous green socks. The panties followed, and she was finally bare in front of him. God. He could hardly breathe.

He pushed the cotton top higher, one hand capturing and kneading one of her perfect little breasts. He stared down at her. His ears filled with the jagged pants and whines she made every time he rolled her nipple between his thumb and finger through her bra. When he pulled his hand away she arched and complained, but quickly settled as soon as he started his slow massage on her inner thighs. His thumbs were slick from her now. Skittering over her skin, so close. So close to slipping into that hot little hollow.

He hooked his hand behind her left knee, ducking down and draping her leg over his shoulder, grabbing her other leg and doing the same. Straightening, he pressed down over her, finding her breasts with his hands, kneading gently, feeling their weight and and soft resistance, leaning forward into her until she opened her eyes.

She was so god-damn gorgeous. Waves of still-damp hair pooling around her upturned face, eyes trying to hide from him, but dark with wanting. She gripped the edge of the counter-top with one hand, knuckles white, her chest rising in hitching breaths.

"I thought you weren't coming back to me," he groaned, face pressed against the soft skin of her leg."I thought you'd left me and you weren't coming back." And his eyes burned. Sudden, unexpected burning he had to blink back. His hands moved down to grip her hips and held her tight, tight to him where he strained with needing her. He would keep her and never let her go.

Wrapping his hands around her upper arms, holding her firmly down, he ducked his head down to her bared stomach, rubbing his chin against her, the slight stubble heating her skin, frictioning, scraping rough against smooth, so smooth. Then nipping with his teeth, little bites of her skin lower, lower to where she was spread open for him, legs trembling.

He covered her with his mouth. A long, open-mouth kiss. As long as her breathless wail. Oh, the taste of her. How could he have never tasted her like this before?

His tongue slid, gentle and slow, lapping at the wet of her entrance, slow, slow up to the nub of her clit. Rolling it slow, steady, under his flattened tongue, her whole body jumping under the pressure on that one small area. He held himself still, holding her arms helpless, mouth pressed to her. Waited, breathing hard, waiting. Waiting for that little desperate moan. For the buck of her hips against his mouth. For her plaintive, tremulous, "Oh fuck- Jarod, please..."

He plunged the tip of his tongue as deep inside her as he could, stretching her legs wide, ravenous now, hungry for more and more of her taste. Sweet, strangely sweet and musky. Shook off the the small hands that fought him and tried to reach to press him deeper, closer.

* * * * *

STEPHANIE

Oh holy fuck. FUCK.

He had my arms tight against the tile. Tile that should feel cold but everything was just burning up. The whole room. My whole body on fire.

I couldn't even bear to lift my head and look to see what it was he was doing down there. With that mouth. With his tongue. Ohhh fuck how did he even do that with his tongue.

Just pressure. Wet, hot pressure clamping down on me, slick friction right there. Right on my clit and I'm so close. So close to coming right now.

I never thought he would. That he was able to give like this. Or take. I can't really tell which this is, just that he's pushing, pulling me over an edge I can just see and then it's right there. Searingly strong, threads of it pulling through me from breathless chest all the way down to where he's French-kissing my pussy. That thrumming strand of pleasure, connecting up, blooming wider, building higher and I'm lost. Gone, totally gone, coming against his mouth.

I tried not to clamp around his head so tight with my knees, but all I could do was curl up around that most incredible wave of sensation. And he just keeps it there, holding it, drawing it out with his tongue and his lips longer and longer until I can't take any more of it. How can I need pleasure to stop, but I do. Please stop...stop.

I was nearly sobbing when he finally released me, his cheek pressing tight to my stomach, his hands gripping my hips, kneading deep with his fingers. All I could do was collapse. Everything, collapsing. Body, heart, free-falling.

My hand found the top of his head. Had I always loved it this much? The feeling of his hair between my fingers? Had there ever been a time when I didn't?

He was very quiet. Just leaning into me, my bare legs still pressed up, draped decadently over his gorgeous shoulders, his cheekbone nestled in the hollow of my belly button. I could feel his eyelashes brush against me when he opened his eyes. I rubbed my fingers against his scalp, filled with the strong desire to soothe him. After all my wanting to crack him open and pull him apart, now all I wanted to do was pick up all the little painful broken pieces and kiss them all back together. Whole. Maybe no longer carrying with him that awful memory. Or at least only a ghost of it.

"Jarod?"

"Mmph."

"Are you okay?"

Then his tongue was lapping at my belly button and some aftershock was hitting me and I was shivering all over with the heat of it, breathing funny and gasping and begging for mercy.

I think he smiled against my stomach. I think that's what I felt. Bastard. Wonderful, incredible bastard.

(To be continued...)

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Thank you so much for reading -- if you enjoyed this story, please be sure to let me know with your comments, feedback and votes, they are much appreciated.