Sexy Hart (Sexy Series) (8 page)

I tilt my head and arch my back as his words massively intensify my arousal. I’m not analysing what he’s saying, although the normal Clare would be picking every word apart trying to understand the message behind it. All I know right now, is that I’m a little bit tipsy from alcohol, I am definitely severely drunk on sexual chemistry and am so relaxed in this beautiful man’s attention. I would do anything he asked of me, right now… and when I say anything, I mean
EN.EE.THING. Oh yeah…

He moves to start kissing my lips again, his tongue forceful as he uses the weight of his top half to hold me beneath him. He releases my buttock and glides his hand down my thigh and back up again, slipping beneath my dress to my bare bottom cheek. He moans loudly and squeezes me again.

“Holy fuck, your skin… your skin…”

“Uh huh…” I moan, knowing his obsession with that.

“So soft… so pure… delicate… fuck, you’re so beautiful… in so many ways.”

I almost whimper, he knows better than anyone else how to get me ready, how to make me buckle and weaken using just his words. I like and appreciate the effects dirty talk has during sex, but the things he says to me seem to be even more powerful than that - he can be dirty but in the most caring and affectionate way. I love that.

During a blowjob for example, some guys who like to talk dirty will say something like ‘Oh yeah, baby, I’m gonna fuck your mouth so fucking hard, you like that, huh? You like my great big cock pumping your mouth?” And for the purposes of arousal, I can see how that might work for some, but Oliver… Oliver will say something like… “Oh god, Clare, your mouth is so fucking beautiful, I love how you move around me when you suck me like that… you’re so fucking good, you’re amazing…” and that -
that
is what makes me want to come. And fall in love with someone like him. (I said someone
like
him, not
him.
Got the t-shirt there, thanks).

He continues to kiss me extremely passionately as his hand squeezes and pulls my body against him. I don’t think I could possibly get any closer, but it seems he thinks there is still too much air between us. I can feel him… feel him hard and ready through his jeans, pressing against my lower belly and all I can think is that I need to feel him in my hand, I need to give him something, I need to share this buzz running through my veins.

I move my hand from his neck and slowly down his arm, waist and then hip, before gliding downwards to his fly, and I press my hand against him. We moan together, I’m on the verge just from feeling the effect I have on him, and his arousal has doubled from my touch.

I somehow manage to unbuckle his belt - one handed (I’m impressed by this myself, I’m usually a fumbling wreck in these situations) and then continue my winning streak with his button and fly. I should remind him that if we ever get into this situation again - he must wear this exact jeans and belt combo. Very well designed.

Slowly sliding my hand inside his boxers waistband to the heat of his hardness, I swallow loudly. I can’t help but salivate at the thought of what I’m about to touch… and when I do, he groans deep in his throat and moves his hand to grab the side of my face, pushing his tongue deeper into my mouth, caressing mine.

I hold him firmly and glide my hand up and down, savouring the feel of every inch, because who knows when I’ll get to do this again, if at all? I love the feel of him, I love his size, his shape, his dangly bits, the amount of hair he has down there - everything just seems to be exactly as I like it. And I love that fact… although we only do this very sporadically, it’s really… I don’t know,
comforting
- almost, that it just feels so natural and unforced.

He begins to kiss my face as I roll my head back again, enjoying every moment. He drags his hand down my neck to my chest and finally rests it firmly against my boob. He massages sensually and I know that at this very minute, all he wants is for my dress to be off, for his hand to be on my bare, naked breast and his tongue on my nipple.
Oh good god, that sounds amazing.

“Can we take this off?” he asks, tugging on the fabric of my dress, his lips, teeth and tongue still working on the delicate flesh of my neck.

I’m in a predicament now, I do
not
want to let go of him, I’m thoroughly enjoying every millisecond that my hand is appreciating his arousal and if I take my dress off, I have to get back into this exact same position and fiddle about until I am holding him in this oh-so-perfect way again…
but
, I want these clothes off so badly, I want to be naked with him, I want his skin on mine, I want intimacy in the most true form.
Yeah, let’s get this off.

“Mmm hmm, yes, take it off,” I moan, not taking my hand from him, “and yours, I want everything gone…”

He doesn’t move, continuing his wonderful exploration of my neck as he responds, mumbling against my skin. “Everything? Do you want to get naughty with me? Can I show you how your incredible body makes me come? I love what you do to me…”

“Oh god, yes! To all of that… I want it, I want you…”

He groans loudly, “Fuck, Clare - I want you, too. Get naked for me… I want to see you… it has been way too long since I saw your beautiful body…”

I’ve had
enough; I pull away from him, inhumanely removing my hand from his pants and sit up to pull my dress over my head. He immediately stands, his eyes fixed on me, and he begins to take his clothes off. The dim glow of the bedside light catches the chiseled, handsome features of his face.

My bra is next, and once unclipped - pulling it from my arms and exposing my chest; my outrageously hard nipples and aching breasts - I lay on my back and lift my hips so I can slowly slip my knickers down my thighs.

He’s watching intently as he unbuttons his shirt, and I’m well aware of it. I gaze at him, watching as his eyes follow my fingers, hooked into the lace, slowly taking the final step to revealing my totally naked body.

The look on his face - pure lust, that undeniable emotion in his eyes that exposes his weakness for me, for my flesh. Gosh, it’s the most incredible feeling in the world, to know that your body can do this to a person. He wants me more than anything else right now. If someone walked in the room and offered him a million pounds in cash, I can’t see him even entertaining the idea of taking his attention off me to accept it.
That…
is what makes me so unbearably addicted to Oliver Hart.

He makes light work of removing the final few garments, including his socks - and in just a few moments he is crawling back onto the bed and over to me, dropping a condom on the beside unit as he does.

I quiver with excited anticipation as I watch him taking me in. He licks his lips as he stares at my chest and as if someone pressed the ‘skip’ button on a remote control, his hands are on my breasts and his mouth closed tightly around one of my nipples. I thrust my fingers in his hair and gasp as he laps his tongue over and around me, devouring it as if it’s the first delicious treat he’s eaten in years.

Oh my god, if only I could bottle this feeling… I only get to experience this on very rare occasions and every time I do, I wish I could remember more clearly or at least have recorded it so that I could watch it over and over to recapture exactly how incredible this man makes me feel… although that does sound a bit porno-ish and that’s not really my bag… but still.

“Oh god…” he groans, nipple in mouth, biting down gently to hold it between his teeth and I cry out in ecstasy. He slides his hand swiftly down my stomach and over my pubic bone until he’s touching me there, exploring again - savouring how I feel. “Wow… oh, wow…” he moans, his voice deep, sexy and full of animalistic arousal.

As he moves away from my clitoris, making me whimper at the loss, he glides further down and slips his fingers inside and I cry out loud. “Oh, Oliver… oh yes that’s so good, oh my god, it feels so… so…”

“Mmm… you’re so… so hot and wet for me, my god I love how perfect you are…” he says as he continues to twist and pump his fingers deliciously whilst sucking and tugging on my nipples. Again, exactly the words I need to hear to make me… make me… uh oh…

“Oh fuck, Oliver, stop! Stop before I… oh please stop - I’m going to…to…”

“Clare, come - please, you look incredible when you cry out loud for me… show me, show me how hot I’m making you, show me how much you love my fingers inside your body…”

As
if
I could continue listening to that and not burst around him. So naturally, that’s what happens and as I’m wailing and crying out as it crashes through me - hard and powerfully, I can’t help but be really angry at myself for letting go so soon! It’ll take a while to get me back to the ‘come stage’ again.

“Ohhh…” I moan, my body still arched backwards on the bed, his hand moving slowly and gently as I come down, “Oh so…. so, so, so… good…”

“Wow, Clare… that was… you look… Jesus Christ you’re amazing…”

I grin, my eyes firmly closed, and I lower my back down onto the bed again, relaxing my tensed muscles. It was amazing… even if I am annoyed that I came so quickly.

I feel him changing positions beside me and his fingers leave me, but I’m still coming down and not quite ready to open my eyes and present myself to the real world again.

“You’re stunning. You look… and feel…” he pauses for a moment and suddenly I feel warm breath on my lady bits, and before I can fully come around, his tongue is inside me.
Oh!
“…and taste…” he adds, taking his tongue from me briefly, “…unbelievable.”

I moan again as he continues with his tongue, tasting me, holding my hips and really devouring me - moaning excitedly all the while. It’s almost like he’s never had it before, or that he’s some kind of sex addict that can’t get enough… but he can carry on all he likes because he is so bloody good at it, I may have just come, but he is doing everything right to push me back up to my threshold again at a super-fast pace.

He slips his fingers inside me again as he focuses his mouth on my extremely sensitive clitoris. Mentally, I’m praying he won’t over-do it or make me jump out of my skin by not being gentle enough after such a forceful orgasm, but once he starts, I forget all of that and swoon at his expertise. Of
course
he won’t over-do it, this is Oliver we’re talking about. Oliver knows his fucking shit.
Oh yeah… yeah he does…

I look down at him as he licks me slowly, continuing with his fingers and he lifts his head to look up at me. “Hi…” he says with the most sexy, most gorgeous, cheeky smile I think I’ve ever seen.

I giggle involuntarily and respond, “Hi…”

“You’re having a good time up there?”

“Oh… I’m having a whale of a time… how’s it going down there?”

“So. Fucking. Good. We need to do this more.”

I grin, we’ve probably said that before… haven’t we? Anyway, his talking, his playing, his handsome face is making me want to do some favour returning, so I beckon him up to me with my finger. After a small, child-like pout, he takes one last, long, savouring lick which makes me cry out yet again, and crawls up my body until he’s hovering over me.

“You know, you’re very good at that, Mr. Oliver.” I say, seductively, as I slip my hands around the back of his neck and gently pull him down to me. I kiss him very lightly, letting my lips linger against his.

“Why, thank you, Miss Clare, I’m so glad that you enjoy my efforts… but let me be totally honest with you, darling, no one feels or tastes quite as perfect as you, so I really don’t need to make ‘effort’ at all, I just do what comes naturally.”

Yes, I’m swooning like a teenage girl being introduced to Harry Styles.
“That so? Well, I’d like to repay your ‘slight efforts’ if I may…”

“Be my guest, although I’m not done with you yet…”

I push against the front of his shoulders until he flops sideways and onto his back next to me. It’s a good job these American hotel beds are so huge, if we were in my double bed at home, he’d probably have just slipped off the edge and crashed to the floor.

I smile as I straddle him and slowly make my way down his body, backwards, until his gloriously springy erection is waving at me. I find it so funny how they have a mind of their own when they’re hard - they just boing all over the place.

I grab hold of him in one hand and am immediately distracted from the boingy penis giggles. Holding him in my hand again, so solid and ready…
wow
, it’s enough to make me catch my breath.

I slowly lower myself until I’m holding his tip right to my lips and I look up at his face as I gently kiss him. I hear him exhale loudly as my eyes close and I take him in, letting him deeper and deeper into my mouth. I can smell shower gel on his hair, the woody, masculine scent now committed to memory, and I suck hard as I lift from him.

“Oh, Clare… uh…” he says, almost sleepily as I begin the process again, this time twisting my head slightly to let my tongue slide around him. I squeeze gently with my hand at the base of his shaft and slowly raise up and back down, sucking hard, enjoying him. With Oliver, blow jobs are just so ‘doable’ - he’s just right, he has no strange scent or weird shape to overcome - he’s perfect.

“Fuck, you’re good.
I’ve never… never… wow…” he says, deliriously, and I have to hold back a chuckle. He says that every time I have done this to him, and every time, he never finishes the sentence. “I love it…” he groans.