Cormack cups my chin, bringing my eyes level with his. “Yes?” he asks, seeking validation to the wordless confirmation streaming out of me.
The sexual chemistry that regularly fires between us triples as I struggle to express myself. This is one of a rare handful of tongue-tying expeditions I’ve embarked on the past few months. I don’t often follow the rules; I gave up walking the line years ago, but this is different. I’ve never experienced anything like this before, so I’m clueless on how to handle it.
Cormack wants me to fall, but I already have. My feet left the ground the instant he crashed into my life, but I’m not wading in the shallow end; I’m in so deep, no amount of swimming could save me, but can I admit that? Or is there a stipulated time I must wait first?
If I were considering these questions without Cormack's wintry eyes staring down at me, I'd be void of a response, but the admiration in his eyes puts my worry to rest. I love the way he looks at me like I'm more valuable than any possession he could ever own. He honestly doesn't care what people think about our relationship. And, in all honesty, neither do I.
"Yes," I reply, briefly nodding so he'll miss the sentimental tears looming in my eyes. From the massive surge of blood pumping through my heart, you'd swear I was agreeing to something more significant than being spoiled. "But within reason. Don't go buying any more private jets."
I roll my eyes. Not once in my life did I think I’d ever utter my last sentence.
Cormack drops his lips to my neck, hoping it will conceal his victorious grin. It doesn't. He doesn't even need to be in the same room as me, and I'd know he's smiling. I can feel it deep in my bones. I can also understand his desire to savor his victory. It's not often I back down, but since he only wants to cherish me, not change me, I can loosen the reins a little.
The restraints loosen even more when Cormack’s attention shifts from my neck to my chest. He grips the hem of my shirt and drags it over my head, his movements so swift, goosebumps rush to the surface of my skin.
“Eager much?” I say with a giggle, loving that he feels confident enough to remove my clothing without first seeking permission.
Cormack palms my breast in his big manly hand before replying, “Ssh. Worshipping.”
He’s not joking. My lace bra makes it feel like there is nothing between my nipple and his mouth when he sucks the achy bud through the thin material. The power of his sucks are overwhelming, an energizing buzz of pain and pleasure.
He adores my nipple until it hardens so firmly, it clicks against his teeth when it pops from his mouth. After stimulating my left breast with the same dedication, his lips lower to my stomach. My sex clenches with every suck, kiss and nip he does. I’m hot and panting with need, my desire for him making me forget we’re in a small aircraft.
"Please," I beg when his teasing trek stops a mere inch from my throbbing sex.
With a grin that reveals he loves my needy response, he blows on my dripping pussy. The contrasting temps between his breath and my body are excruciatingly obvious. It feels like he has the AC on full blast and aimed directly at me.
Blinded with need, I arch my back, bringing my pussy closer to his mouth. Cormack takes advantage of my new position by dragging my G-string down my quivering thighs.
“I like these,” he compliments, staring at the tiny pair of panties dangling from his index finger. “Where did you get them?”
I graze my teeth over my lower lip when he slips the bright green scrap of fabric into his trouser pocket. “Target.”
“Target. Hmm.” His throaty hum vibrates my core.
Through a pant, I watch him carefully, struggling to work out if that was a good or a bad moan.
I realize it's a good one when he says, “Target will be our first stop when we land. You need a few more pairs.”
I smile, adoring the hunger in his tone. “Do the residents of Hampton know what Target is, much less have a store at their disposal?”
My giggles switch to a moan when Cormack runs the back of his hand down my pussy. “If they don’t, I’ll build one.”
I’m about to issue a smart-ass response that I wouldn’t put it past him, but his swift backhand of my raw-with-need pussy steals my words. I call out, the sensation unlike anything I’ve ever felt. My clit pulsates as tiny electrical currents zap through my veins.
"Your body is extra responsive today. It must be the altitude," Cormack growls, having no idea the mess between my legs was there before he touched me. His request to cherish me wasn't just chaotic to my mind; it made my insides do weird, fluttery things, most notably affecting my heart and pussy.
While stroking his cock through his trousers, Cormack’s heavy-hooded eyes scan my body. I want him to touch me more than I need my next breath, but the wicked visual of him kneeling between my splayed thighs, rubbing his cock to calm the tension brewing between us makes the need not as ravenous. Just the carnal groans he's releasing has my orgasm gaining intensity, let alone the sexy visual of a strong, dominant man fondling himself.
“Take it out,” I beg as my hand slowly glides down to my damp sex. “I want to see firsthand what my body does to you.”
My reply is a half-lie. I already know what my body does to him. He has proved it time and time again the past month, but if a little white lie moves us into unchartered waters, I’m all for it.
Cormack frees his cock from its tight restraints as the exact moment my fingers brace the wetness between my legs. I let out a husky groan, surprised by the dampness. I’m drenched with need. Hot and slippery.
“Are you wet?” Cormack asks as his crown glistens with an equal amount of dampness.
I nod without shame.
He scuffles a little closer, his hand never leaving his cock. “Show me.”
I wait for coyness to invade me. It never comes.
The veins feeding Cormack’s magnificently thick manhood throb when I spread the lips of my pussy to show him the moist conditions. He growls as his strokes quicken. I slip two fingers inside myself, inspired by his famished eyes.
“Use the pad of your hand to stimulate your clit,” Cormack demands a short time later, his tone both needy and commanding.
“I thought you were supposed to be worshipping me?”
My thighs press closer when he replies, "Don't worry, sugar, I've got you covered."
I roll my eyes, pretending to hate his term of endearment. I'm full of lies today. He only calls me "sugar" when he's extra wicked. That makes me love it even more.
“Like this?” I grind my palm against my clit, acting as if I’ve never brought myself to climax before.
I gasp when a shockwave shoots from my pussy to my nipples. I didn’t realize my clit would be so sensitive. Don’t get me wrong, the image of Cormack stroking his cock will be a treasured memory for years to come, but the sensation burning every nerve ending in my body has me teetering on the edge of insanity.
I thrust my fingers faster. The need to come is blinding me.
“Slow, steady pumps, Harlow. You don’t always need to fuck to feel pleasure.”
Cormack slows the rhythm of his strokes, leisurely gliding his hand to the very base of his cock before rolling it back to the tip. As I strive to calm my breathing, I mimic his movements. My fingers plunge in and out of my soaked sex at the same speed his big, manly hand caresses his cock. You’d think the size of his hand would take away from his impressive manhood. It doesn’t. It's as mouthwatering as it’s ever been.
“That’s it, worship your pussy as it deserves to be treated.” The raw sensuality of his voice causes my thighs to shake.
My core contracts when Cormack transfers a bead of pre-cum pooling on the crest of his cock to my aching clit. He uses his excitement as lubricant to pinch and roll the needy bud between his thumb and index finger.
“I’m close,” I warn a short time later, my throaty voice an indication of my heightened state.
“Good. So am I.”
My cheeks inflame as I fight to hold back my excitement. My endeavor is pointless. The thrill of Cormack toying with my clit can't be undone via mental power, and the visual of his thick cock pumping in and out of his hand is doing wickedly naughty things to my insides.
With an almost animal-like roar, I succumb to the sensation gripping every inch of me. Cormack's name shreds from my lips in a throaty moan as my pussy sucks at my fingers. I clam up, my climax rising over me like a bone-crushing wave. It smashes into me hard, stealing my ability to move, breathe, and speak.
My husky screams entice quest for Cormack’s release. His strokes quicken as he watches me lose control beneath him. As my lungs hunt for air, I frantically search for the light at the end of the tunnel. I’m not scared of the involuntary tremors of my body. I’m loving every shudder, shake, and moan.
The tremors wreaking havoc with my body gain intensity when the hot spurts of Cormack’s cum shoot across my spasming sex. The rough moans he releases as he grunts my name tighten my core. A buzzing sensation darts through my clenching sex like liquid ecstasy. The sensation is amazing, unlike any I’ve ever had.
I come through the sensation gasping for air, powerfully shaken by the strength of my orgasm. Cormack looks as surprised as me. Beads of sweat sit in little balls at the top of his blond brows, and a triumphant grin is stretched across his handsome face.
“Seeing you do that. . .” A groan fills in his lack of words. “. . . a thousand times better than I could have ever predicted.”
He steals my attempt to bow in gratitude of his praise by seizing my wrists and dragging me to an upright position. I slump against his body like a wet bag of flour, my legs as uncooperative as my lungs. He holds me close to his body as he moves to the compact, yet highly appealing bathroom on our right. The crazy thud of his heart matches mine. It’s a frantic beat spurred on by carnal desires and mutual respect. I’ve never been low on confidence, but I’ve had it even more the past few months.
After ensuring the water is at a good temp, Cormack removes his shoes, socks, and my bra, then steps into the spray. I giggle. In his eagerness, he forgot to remove his pants.
"Here, let me." I bend my knees to drag his drenched trousers down his thighs. My endeavor to help is awarded in the most glorious way. Cormack's half-flaccid cock stiffens before my very eyes, marveling me with its dedication.
I glance up at Cormack through a thick set of lashes, pondering if he's aware of the magnificence brewing between us.
His hearty smirk answers my silent question. "What? Did you think we were done?"
He doesn’t wait for me to answer. Instead, he pins me against the glistening clean tiles of the shower to attack my mouth with the viciousness of a starved man.
“I said I was going to woo you, Harlow, so let the wooing begin.”
After kissing me until I forget what day of the week it is, Cormack leans his sweaty forehead against mine. Steam billows around us, making the stifling conditions even more roasting. The emotions pumping out of his arctic blue eyes should have me withering away in fright, but for some reason unbeknownst to me, they straighten the rod in my spine instead of curving it.
“Yes?”
The water from the shower rolls down my arms when I cup his bristle-covered jaw. "Yes. Always."
I’m not just giving him permission to worship me with the heaviness I feel bracing against my heated core. I’m giving him permission for everything and anything. I’m giving him me.