I can handle it

 “Follow the line from my chest, all the way round to the other side.” His voice is low and husky.I do as he says until a crimson line runs across the middle of his back, and as I do, I count more scars marring his beautiful body. Nine in all.My hands fist in his hair while my mouth is feverish against his, consuming him, relishing the feel of his tongue against mine. And he’s the same, devouring me. It’s heavenly.

 Suddenly he drags me up and grasps the hem of my T-shirt, whipping it over my head and throwing it on the floor.“I want to feel you,” he says greedily against my mouth as his hands move behind me to undo my bra. In one smooth  move, it’s off and he pitches it aside.He pushes me back down onto the bed, pressing me into the mattress, and his mouth and hand move to my breasts. My fingers curl into his hair as he takes one of my nipples between his lips and tugs hard.

 Boy, I want him inside me, now. With his mouth, he toys with my nipple, pulling at it, making me squirm and writhe and yearn for him. I sense his longing mixed with—what? Veneration. It’s as if he’s worshipping me.He teases me with his fingers, my nipple growing hard and elongating under his skillful touch. His hand moves to my jeans, and he deftly undoes the button, tugs the zipper down, and slips his hand inside my panties , sliding his fingers against my sex.

 His breath hisses out as his finger glides into me. I push my pelvis up into the heel of his hand, and he responds, rubbing against me.

''Oh baby,” he breathes as he hovers over me, staring intently into my eyes. “You’re so wet.” His voice is filled with wonder.“I want you,” I murmur.His mouth joins with mine again, and I feel his hungry desperation, his need for me.

 To know that I have such an effect on him, that I can offer him so much solace, doing this—my inner goddess purrs with pure pleasure. He sits up, grasps the hem of my jeans, and tugs them off, followed by my panties.Keeping his eyes fixed on mine, he stands, takes a foil packet out of his pocket, and tosses it at me, then removes his jeans and boxers in one swift motion.

 He guides me, and hesitantly I ease myself down onto him. He closes his eyes and flexes his hips to meet me, filling me, stretching me, his mouth forming a perfect O as he exhales.Oh, that feels so good—possessing him, possessing me.He holds my hands, and I don’t know if it’s to steady me or keep me from touching him, even though I have my road map.

 “You feel so good,” he murmurs.I rise again, heady with the power I have over him,watching him  slowly coming apart beneath me. He lets go of my hands and grabs my hips, and I place my hands on his arms. He thrusts into me sharply, causing me to cry out.“That’s right, baby, feel me,” he says, his voice strained.I tip my head  back and do exactly that. This is what he does so well.I move—countering his rhythm in perfect symmetry—numbing all thought and reason. I am just sensation lost in this void of pleasure. Up and down . . . again and again . . . Oh yes . . . Opening my eyes, I stare down at him, my breathing ragged, and he’s staring back at me, eyes blazing.