Maya

She'd been very generously blessed. Her breasts were topped with dark, thick nipples that were so tight they must be hurting her. I ran a single finger down the side of her left breast and saw her fingers curl into fists.

"You're gorgeous, sweetheart," I breathed, tracing an outline of her breasts. "So gorgeous."

She blushed a little and raised her hand to work my zipper a little harder. I decided to help her out and tugged the binder off me quickly. She ran her fingers over the exposed flesh, a smile curving her lips.

"So are you, Gray," she said.

"Hold on tight," I cautioned before I lifted her with my hands under her ass. She let out a surprised squeal before she wrapped her legs around my waist, kissing me again.

I set her on the kitchen counter, filling my palms with her breasts, testing their weight and sensitivity. Maya moaned into my mouth, her back arching. With her leaning back on the kitchen counter, her breasts were the perfect height for mouth.

I nuzzled slowly, using my lips and teeth to lightly pull and nick the sides of her breasts. Her floral scent was stronger here, mixed with a heady feminine scent. Jesus, the warm hollow where her breasts met her stomach was a place I would gladly call home.

When I used the flat of my tongue against her peaked nipple, she moaned deep in her throat. One hand found its way into my hair, holding me in place. My mouth curved as I licked yet again, feeling her breathing quickening under my palms.

She had extremely sensitive breasts; she reacted to every little tug and lave. Much as I enjoyed worshipping her breasts, her little whimpers and moans were severely addictive and I felt as though we were working on some kind of reward system: for everything I did right, she rewarded me with a whimper or a moan. God, her every little reaction was shooting straight to my core.

And then she said my name. "Please, Gray."

I couldn't remember how much time I'd spent on her breasts - I don't think I'd ever lost track of time like that before. Her eyes were pleading, needy, glazed over with pleasure.

"Come here," I said, straightening my back. She sat up, her curls a complete mess, tumbling any which way they pleased. Her lips were red, wet and parted. Jesus, I loved that rumpled and dazed look on her.

She offered me her lips again, her fist in my hair. She said little but I could feel the desperation in her every movement. I trailed my fingers up her inner thigh and traced the crotch of her lace panties. Warm heat coated my fingers.

Her breaths tumbled out of her in hiccup-y waves as I traced the seam of her panties, threatening - but not really - to slip under the edges. She leaned forward and rested her head in the hollow of my neck, her lips nuzzling the sensitive skin at the base of my neck. I shivered.

My fingers slipped under panties and pushed them to one side.

"S-sorry," she stuttered against my neck. "I'm very wet."

I used my free hand to slide my hands into her curls and lift her head. She was blushing again - her cheeks fiercely red, eyes glazed. I placed a hard kiss on her full lips.

"Don't ever apologize for being wet, sweetheart."

"But I'm too-."

"No." I gave her a hard look and she bit her bottom lip. "Don't."

"Besides," I continued, "if you weren't soaking wet, how would I do this?"

I ran a finger over her sex and found her opening. With a gentle, consistent pressure, I entered her with two fingers. Her fingernails dug into my arm; her breathing stopped as her body adjusted to the invasion.

My other hand was still gripping fistfuls of her curls. I tipped her head up and placed a long, thorough kiss on her lips. It took her a moment or two to respond. When she did, my fingers probed deeper. She moaned, long and hard, against my mouth. Her body trembled almost violently as I explored her depths.

"Oh god," she breathed, pulling away slightly. "What are you doing?"

I pressed my index finger a little higher and she watched me with hooded eyes. "I'm exploring you," I said, sliding in a little deeper. My palm was now pressed fully against her heat, wetness dripping down the back of my hand.

She shot me a pleading look. "Could you just, you know, do it?" She moved her hips suggestively.

I chuckled. "You're not patient, aren't you?"

She shook her head. "Please just..."

I slid my fingers out and back in again quickly. Her eyes half-closed in pleasure. A word that sounded suspiciously like a multi-syllabled "yes" crossed her lips. I repeated the move, getting a firmer grasp of her curls in my hand. Her legs tightened around my waist and she soon started trembling, on edge.

That was my cue. I slid my finger as deep as it could go and pressed upwards, looking for the patch of nerves I'd found before. She jerked violently, her back arching in a beautiful curve of ecstasy as she rode out the orgasm. Just as her breath returned, I brushed the spot yet again and she moaned low and deep, her short nails probably leaving faint scratches on my arms.

I briefly wondered if I should maintain the pressure but as she slumped against me, her breaths harsh against my neck, I reconsidered. Her body trembled every few seconds, still riding the quick succession of orgasms.

I pushed errant hair out of her eyes so I could watch her recover. She was beautiful in repose, her face a warm red, her body fully sated.

She didn't say anything for a few minutes. I held her against me, running my fingers through her hair and watched her breathing (gradually) return to normal.

A bolt of possessiveness surged through me. I savored the feeling, letting it ebb and settle in my gut. She was so beautiful, so open, so tempting... just so perfect cradled in my arms. And the way she responded to my touch - well, that was a big bonus.

I was pretty sure my boxers were soaked through. Yes, I was turned on after watching her fall apart, but the warmth of her sated weight in my arms was too comforting for me to even attempt to move her.

She pressed a kiss against the side of my neck, her eyes barely open. "I wasn't expecting that," she said, her voice soft. "That was... something else."

I pressed a kiss to her forehead, a content smile twisting my lips. "What were you expecting?" I asked, curious.

"I don't know," she said, trying to sit up a little. "You're very attractive, Gray. No, that sounded weird. It's not a bad thing that you're attractive. I mean, it's good, really good -"

I kissed her soundly on the lips. I had a feeling that I'd be doing this to shut her up a lot more in the future.

"But you thought someone attractive would be bad at sex?" I raised an eyebrow.

She looked sheepish. "That's what people say - it's not like I'd know."

"What? What does that mean?"

She shrugged. I wanted to dig a little deeper. Her statement could mean two things. (1.) She'd never slept with someone she found attractive or (2.) She'd never slept with anyone, period.

But she pulled away and said, "I'll go clean up a little. How does that sound?"

I took a deep breath, fought the urge to pry, and said, "That sounds good."

She hooked a finger around the waistband of my unbuttoned slacks and dragged it along the length of my pelvis. "How about you open up that bottle of wine you brought, shuck these pants and meet me in bed?"

She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively, her dimples showing. Goddamn, was she cute.

"Take a deep breath now, sweetheart."

"What? Why?"

"Deep breath."

As she sucked in a large breath of air, I pulled my fingers out of her quickly. She let out a little squeak.

"Sore?" I asked. She nodded. I could imagine - she was pretty tight and she'd needed time to get used to only two fingers. "You'll get used to me," I said instead.

She blushed and lowered her eyes. "How about that wine? I just need a few minutes."

"Sure." I helped her off the table and she wobbled in her heels. Chuckling, I let her hold on to me while she took them off and placed them in a corner. Even without the heels, she walked unsteadily into the bathroom.

I couldn't get the shit-eating grin off my face as I washed my hands and wrestled with the bottle of merlot.

*