I´ve got plans for this body PART 2

I bury my face in my pillow, not wanting to grant him the satisfaction of the shameless moan that is begging to escape me. He chuckles in response to his praises, “You can try to hide your face, but you can’t hide how wet you are, Princess.”

That one makes me laugh out loud, so I turn my face back to the side, “I guess not…”

He removes his fingers from my cunt, trails them over my ass cheeks, then squeezes my thigh, “Turn on your back.” I roll over as he asks. He gets up to fetch a few things.

I sit up, propping myself up with my arms behind me. I graze my eyes over his body. My voice is something between teasing and sultry, “Bernard, why are you still dressed?”

He smirks, looking me in the eye and gesturing to himself. “What, you want some of this?”

I nod, “You know I do.” He slowly pulls his shirt over his head by the collar and I can see his obnoxiously well-toned abs flex while he does it. I feel my tongue drag itself along my open lips, practically of its own accord. He has a shit-eating grin on his face when he catches my lascivious gaze. “Pants, too.” He raises an eyebrow. “Please, sir?” My heart starts beating wildly when he starts unfastening his belt buckle, then unbuttoning his jeans teasingly slowly. I give an appreciative groan. “God, you’re fucking gorgeous, Bell.” I don’t compliment him enough. I give him a lot of shit, because he knows how fucking god-like his body is. But, I still feel like I should verbalize my appreciation more often. He unzips his jeans, then hooks his thumbs into his boxers so he can slowly (again, so fucking slowly) drag them down his hips, allowing his erection to spring free. He pushes them a little farther down, then lets them drop to the floor in a heap, where he kicks them to the side after stepping out of them. I bite my lip and nod my head in approval, “Fucking gorgeous.” He rolls his eyes, almost to hide the fact that he’s grateful for the flattery. He’s about as good at taking genuine compliments as I am (read: gets flustered and doesn’t quite know what to do at first).

He turns back around to retrieve something else from near the dresser, definitely taking the time to flex his gluteal muscles gratuitously. I voice an appreciative “Mmmmm-hmmmm… Yeah, the backside is equally stunning.” He drops his head and shakes it, almost embarrassed. Yeah, I definitely need to compliment him more if it’s this awkward for him to receive praise from me. I make a mental note of it.

He turns back around and stalks to the bed again. He sits on the bed next to me. He cups my breasts again. “Your tits are fucking magnificent.”

I roll my eyes, “Tell that to the stretch marks…” He frowns at me again. I forget that he hates when I insult my own features. “What? They, like, blew up when I was breastfeeding.” He grins, apparently remembering how huge they got. Even though we were just friends at the time, he couldn’t stop himself from staring at my tits all the time. “And, they’re not as perky anymore, not after nursing Alex for three and a half years.”

He raises an eyebrow. “I really shouldn’t be feeling jealous about that…”

I shake my head, laughing, “No, you shouldn’t. And if you even try to give me shit when I’m breastfeeding our kids that long-”

He grins, “Kids? Like plural?”

I pause. “Fuck, we’re doing it again – talking about kids.”

He laughs. “We are…”

I laugh with him and roll my eyes, “Okay, we can have another kid conversation later. Let’s get back to fucking, please?” I give him a ‘come hither’ look while biting my lip.

Bernard wrenches my legs apart to settle between them, and practically pounces on me, feasting on my mouth with a passionate kiss and making it a point to grope my breasts again. He travels back down my chest again, squeezing the globes together a few times, then tweaking my nipples before closing his mouth around one of them. He laves his tongue over the sensitive peaks then sucks, releasing with a “pop” sound. Each biting tug on my nipple feels like it’s going straight to my clit. He blows lightly on it, making my nipple pebble up to his satisfaction. He repeats this on my other breast, while his hands start to travel toward my heat so he can pick up where he left off before I got all distracted by his bod.

After he’s paid generous attention to my breasts, he begins dragging his tongue down from the valley between my breasts, over my navel, and toward my pussy. He sits up again, grabbing a few pillows from next to me. He taps my hips, “Lift up for me.” He slides a few pillows underneath my hips as I lift them off the bed. He taps my hips again, signaling me to relax again.

I close my eyes, choosing to just feel whatever he has planned for me. He pulls my legs apart. His voice sounds starved, “Fuck, Princess, you lookdelectable.” I moan when I feel the heat of his breath against my cunt. He flicks his tongue out and slides it between my folds while he pushes my legs up so my thighs are almost against my chest. He trails the pads of his fingers back down my thighs and squeezes my ass cheeks while dipping his tongue into my pussy and writhing it around. My moans are guttural. With a finger, he gives a few gentle strokes to my clit, and my hips buck against him. He pulls his tongue out and closes his lips around my clit. He strokes it with his tongue a few times before sucking it into his mouth, and I can’t hold back an ecstatic sob. He gives a few gentle tugs before releasing it, leaving my legs shaking as I whimper. He keeps two fingers in my pussy, crooked and softly rocking inside of me.

I feel him dribbling something onto my taint, letting it trickle between my cheeks. I feel him use the fingers of his free hand to tease my most taboo spot, and I can feel the building intensity, a need coiling inside of me. A few times, he lightly sweeps a finger over the my puckered rosebud, but doesn’t make moves to do anything more than just a whisper of contact.

“Bernard, please!”   I’m stunned by my own craving for him to stop teasing my ass and do something already.

He chuckles, “What do you want, Princess?”

I hesitate. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know? Or you don’t want to say it?”

I groan, “Don’t make me say it…”

He stops moving the fingers that are inside my pussy. He doesn’t remove them, just stills them. His voice is low and graveled, “Princess, you’re not just going to say it, you’re going to beg for it.”

He crooks his fingers inside my pussy again, just barely. Teasing. “Sir, please do it.”

He shakes his head, “Not good enough. Try again.”

“Sir, PLEASE… your finger… in my…”

“In your what, Princess?”

“Please.”

“Still not good enough, Princess.”

He starts pulling his fingers out of my pussy, and the pleasure-oriented part of my brain just takes over.

“No, PLEASE!” He puts his fingers back in my pussy, but doesn’t move them. He’s waiting for me to follow his instructions. I whisper, “… in my ass.”

“I can’t hear you.” He crooks his fingers minutely again and stops.

“Please, push your finger in”

“In?”

“In my ass, sir.”

He bites my thigh, “Almost, Princess. But you’ve still gotta beg for it.”