Pleasing Aphrodite Ch. 02

"You're so beautiful," he whispered, his hands still moving through my long hair. He kissed my forehead and his hands went to the sides of my head, lifting it slightly from the surface of the bed. I let myself go limp as he turned my head this way and that, leaving kisses in each new place his mouth touched. Now and then his arm brushed against my breast and I sighed.

He slowly undid the buttons on my shirt and kissed his way down as he moved. I felt his hot breath on my skin as he parted the fabric of my shirt. He moved slowly, but with purpose, unhooking the clasp of my bra and pulling the thin fabric apart and over my breasts. He framed them in his hands and gave each nipple a soft, slow kiss before moving away. He helped me sit up enough to draw my arms from the fabric of my shirt and then laid me down on the bed again, his eyes now moving lower on my body.

He reached for the front of my jeans and worked the button and zipper. He shifted again and I lifted my hips to help him slide my jeans off. Two seconds later my jeans and panties were in a heap on the floor with my shirt and bra. He regarded my nude body for just a second, his mouth a sly smile.

He bent and I watched as his tongue made a slow pass over my belly. His hand slid over my thigh and down to my knee, and then he shifted once more and in one fluid motion, his mouth still planting kisses, he lifted my leg, slid beneath it and propped it on his shoulder. I felt myself open slightly as my thighs parted and sighed in anticipation of what was next. When his mouth touched the outer lips of my vulva I gasped. I heard him breathe a few words of praise, felt the gentle touch of his fingers as he parted my pussy lips, and then the heat of his tongue as he slipped it between my folds.

I groaned. Loudly. I couldn't help myself.

Patrick seemed to navigate my pussy with instinct, touching all the right spots in all the right ways. I had no doubt he could bring me to orgasm in less than five minutes, but he preferred to make it last and I was glad to see his initial enthusiasm had calmed and he was moving slowly as his tongue made passes up and down my open pussy.

He took his time exploring with slow movements and light pressure. I sighed and let my thighs relax as he licked and sucked me, pushing my arousal higher and higher with agonizing slowness. My thoughts scrambled as I got closer and closer to coming. I couldn't focus or hold still. My head rolled back and forth and my hands clutched first at the bedspread, then Patrick's shoulder, then my own breasts. I could hear myself panting and knew at any second I'd start babbling without any idea what I was saying.

All the sensations of being touched melded into one insistent throb and ache. I hadn't even realized he'd slid two fingers inside me until he lifted his head to look at me and I still felt the friction of his touch where I'd thought his mouth had been.

"I love the way you taste," he said. He had an intense look in his eyes, a small smile on his lips. He moved upward to kiss me, and I tasted myself on his tongue. His fingers continued exploring, dipping in and out and swirling all around my pussy. I felt like I was melting into the surface of the bed, becoming nothing but the pleasure and the places where Patrick's mouth and fingers touched me.

I reached down and fumbled with his belt and then the closure on his trousers. In my excitement I was clumsy, but eventually got his zipper down and slid my fingers beneath the waistband of his shorts. He drew back and took my wrist, moving my hand away. "Not yet," he whispered.

He held his face close to mine and watched me while he moved his fingers in and out of my pussy. The look in his eyes was as erotic as his actions and I could feel my arousal inching closer to its peak. He kissed me once more and sat up, moving back between my legs. He swiveled his hand and I felt his fingers turn inside me, making me moan in delight. He lifted my leg with his other hand and rested my foot on his chest, holding it there. I felt the heat of his skin against the bottom of my foot, the tension of his muscles.

His eyes traveled across my body slowly and thoroughly, coming to rest on my face. He moved his two fingers in and out of me, slowly and deliberately, letting his thumb make sudden but random contact with my clit. Each time I jumped and moaned, and each time the tension inside me increased.

"Sometimes," he said. His voice was quiet, barely resonating in his chest. "I feel like a mortal before Aphrodite. I hope I'm worthy of your beauty."

His thumb touched my clit, but didn't lift and I felt the pulse of pleasure build as he moved his thumb in small circles. I groaned, excited by the touch and what he'd said, but it was the look on his face that got me more than anything; the bare emotion he showed. My heart surged with affection. I was close to coming, I could feel it, but I wanted his body against mine, to feel his weight and heat, his cock inside me.

"Wait," I said, breathlessly. "I don't want to come yet, Patrick."

He lifted his thumb from my clit. His fingers moved in and out a few more times. "What do you want then?" he asked. He shifted his position and pushed his trousers and shorts down. His cock sprang up, fully erect, the tip glistening wet. He took in his fist and stroked it slowly.

I wanted him inside me, but I knew how close I was to coming. I could feel it: the tense bubble waiting to be ruptured. All the little oddities of the evening, all the boundaries he'd crossed, and his uncharacteristic haste had brought me to a state of arousal so close to the crest I knew I'd come fast and hard once he moved inside me and I wanted to hold off a little longer before that happened.

"I want—" I started to say, but then I wasn't sure. I wanted to know why I was here, what was different, why he'd missed me. I wanted to know what was hiding behind his eyes, what he wasn't saying out loud.

He removed his fingers from inside me and moved his hand up my thigh. "You want what?" His voice was deep and soft. He pushed my thighs open and moved so his cock was just above my open sex. I watched his fist moving over it in slow, languorous strokes. I was transfixed for a moment and felt a longing to touch him, to taste him, to feel him slippery warm against my tongue.

He watched me watching and, interpreting my stare, slowly moved to the side, pulling his legs from his trousers. He lay back on the bed and I knelt at his side, eager to return the pleasure he'd given me.

When I took his penis in my hand I felt him twitch excitedly. I settled into a comfortable position and started stroking him gently and teasingly, wanting to take it slowly. I watched the expression on his face—so carefully composed just a moment before—melt into pleasure. It was a thrill to see him so easily undone.

I felt a rush of excitement as I brought my mouth down to his cock. I extended my tongue and ran it over the blunt head and was delighted when he gasped immediately and with obvious pleasure. He murmured an "Oh God" and sighed.

I'd learned a lot since the first time we'd had sex. Patrick had been my first sexual partner so I'd had not only to learn what he liked, I'd had to learn how to do it all. Using my mouth had been more difficult than I'd thought it would, but now I had confidence; I knew how to read his face and body language to determine how quickly or slowly to move, how gently or firmly to touch and suck, how many times I could take him deep into my mouth before he'd push me away, his face flushed and desperate, close to coming, but not ready for it to be over.

I felt him relax as I continued, his eyes closing briefly as I licked and sucked, varying my pace and pressure. Soft, strained breaths came from his throat and I could feel his chest rising and falling, the pace a little more rapid than it had been a few minutes before. I let my tongue swirl around the head of his cock and stroked the base of the shaft with my fingers. I slipped one hand below his balls and teased them lightly with my fingertips while I worked my lips down over him, moving lower and lower on his cock. His breathing grew more ragged each time my mouth dipped low until finally he sighed hard. "Oh fuck, Holly. That's fantastic."

Patrick only ever swore when he was truly enraged—something I'd only seen once as a kid and it had been terrifiying—or completely overwhelmed by sexual pleasure. He was usually so in control of his emotions, it was a total turn-on to see his composure falter like that, his animal side overwhelming his cognitive defenses. It made my head spin. I smiled as best I could with his cock between my lips and felt my pussy throbbing, the wetness building inside me.

I continued stroking him, bobbing my head gently. I felt his hands brush my hair from my face, gathering it behind my head in a ponytail. I looked up and met his blue eyes. They were full of lusty anticipation as I drew him between my lips. He smiled and I continued moving up and down, finding a rhythm that brought more frequent low moans from him, his fingers tightening in my hair.

I felt him urge me toward him and adjusted the tilt of my head so I could take him deeper. He applied gentle pressure to the back of my head, letting me know what he wanted. I moved lower and lower and was rewarded with a strangled curse as the head of his cock touched the back of my throat, nudging against the soft upper palette. I held myself there as long as I could, fighting the reflex to gag. His fingers grasped my hair tightly and I saw his face straining as he watched.

Another curse, his voice thick and emotional: "Jesus Christ," he gasped, "Oh, sweetheart. You're unbelievable."

I drew back and resumed bobbing my head for a full minute. I closed my eyes and focused my tongue on the bottom of his cock, moving it in waves to stroke the underside of his shaft. I loved the smooth heat and pressure between my lips and the taste of the fluid that coated my tongue.

I looked up at him again and waited for direction, waiting for his direction. He stroked my hair with his hands, gathering up loose strands and tidying my ponytail. There was a slightly wild look in his eyes, but I could see him pushing it back, resisting the urge to lose control of his desire. But I wanted him to lose control.

Without lifting my head, I shifted onto my knees. I closed my eyes and sucked him slowly, letting his cock move further into my mouth each time. It slid over my tongue, moving deeper and deeper with agonizing slowness. The deeper it went, the slower I moved. Patrick gasped, sighed, and groaned as I moved with patience and purpose one quarter inch at a time, drawing back a few times to relax my jaw, and then resumed.

"Oh my God," he moaned each time I reached my limit. I opened my eyes and looked up. His face was twisted in an expression like pain and then relief as I drew back. I bobbed my head again, gradually increasing my pace, no longer being so careful. The idea was friction now: constant contact and pressure. He moaned my name and after only a minute reached down, drew me roughly from his cock, and pulled me to his chest, crushing my mouth to his for a kiss.

I threw my leg over him and straddled his hips, pushing up from his chest until I was sitting astride him. He looked at me as if in disbelief or maybe wonder, and as I lifted my hips to take him inside me, he smiled a drunken smile. I moved my hips and let my body sink down, his cock filling me as I did. I shivered and looked down at him and I started to move.

I touched my clit with one hand and steadied myself with my other, leaning forward over him. His hands slid over my thighs and hips. The rest of his body lay inert. He continued to smile at me, that enigmatic smile I'd seen earlier.

"What's with that smile?" I asked, still moving against him, drawing myself up and down.

He shook his head, still smiling. His hand lifted and he touched my breast, cupping it briefly in his hot palm, and then his fingertips swirled around my nipple, applying pressure at random moments making me cry out each time as the pleasure zipped through me.

He said my name softly as I rode him, told me I was beautiful, sexy, amazing—encouraging me to feel every bit of pleasure I could. His hands moved over me, hot on my waist and over my breasts. I closed my eyes and focused on finding the right spot to stroke, the right angle to plunge down over him, the right speed and rhythm. I could feel it building again, like something expanding in my gut, pushing against everything else inside me. My stomach tightened, and my lungs felt weak. The anticipation reached a point of agony and I knew what was next, if I could just get there.

I thrust and slid against him, now holding him deep, wanting to be full of him as I concentrated my efforts on my clit, no longer gentle but desperate, on the brink of frustration. The frantic noises I made rose in pitch, little squeals and cries erupting as I edged closer to coming.

"Look at me," Patrick said just then, and I did.

His blue eyes trapped mine and held me like another pair of hands touching, urging me toward my orgasm. I groaned as my pussy pulsed once, teasingly and then I shook while multiple spasms rolled through me, forcing gasps and whines from my throat. I felt the thickness of his cock inside me and stared into his eyes as I came. His hands held my hips for a few seconds as my orgasm slowed and the intense bliss dissipated, eventually becoming more of a hum inside me. He gave me a few seconds to rest before lifting me, rolling me onto my back, and positioning himself between my open thighs. In an instant he filled me fully and lowered his chest to mine.

At first he held himself above me at arm's length while he rocked his hips slowly. He looked down at me after a minute or two and smiled. That smile again: full of a puzzling warmth.

"What is it?" I asked, a little bit impatience in my voice.

He paused, lowered himself enough to kiss my lips, and said, "I love you, sweetheart."

I felt my heart squeeze painfully. I stared, unable to believe my ears. I made an attempt at a "what?" but he drew his hips back and he entered me then, pushing hard so my words became a groan. He thrust again with a deep, deliberate motion and closed his eyes. A second later he shifted and began to enter me again and again in a measured rhythm. He brought his mouth to my neck and kissed me just below the ear—a spot that never failed to turn me on—scraping his teeth against my skin lightly. He pressed his mouth to my ear and whispered, "I love you, Holly."

I gasped. My head swam. Had he really said that?

His tongue touched my ear—just the briefest touch and it made me shiver—and he said, "I love you and I love fucking you." A thrill shot through me like a rocket, blazing and full of fire. Inside, a sharp ache pulsed.

He thrust hard, filling me again and again, his hands braced on the bed. My breasts bounced and my whole body absorbed the force of his body, again and again until it hurt enough I bit my lip and whimpered. He held back a little, filling me slower, still fully, but without so much of his strength behind it.

"OK?" he asked, his voice strained and hoarse. I could tell it took effort for him to hold back.

I nodded my head and ran my hands over his neck. His skin was burning hot, damp with sweat, tense muscles beneath, waiting. "Don't stop," I said.

He resumed his motions, alternating between quick thrusts and slower, more measured movements that made his eyes close and his mouth open in a low moan. He was in his own world of pleasure, his body moving with one purpose only. Eventually his moans grew more frequent, his thrusts more frantic.

His eyes were glazed when he finally opened them and looked down at me. A small smile turned the corners his mouth, but only for a second before he shook his head, moaned, swore, and began to fuck me harder. Eventually he thrust so hard I had to clench my teeth to keep them from being jarred. His breath came fast and on each forward thrust a low, lusty "oh" came from his throat. I watched his brow twist, his face taking on a tormented look. He breathed a few syllables as he panted, but I couldn't make out what he was saying or if they were even words.

He made a noise between a groan and a whimper and pushed hard, burying himself one more time. He tensed and pressed himself against my pelvis as he came. He trembled against me for a few seconds and then let out the breath he'd been holding, his head dropped, and his arms shook as if they might give way. He groaned long and low and after half a minute of panting, shifted slowly so I could lower and stretch my legs.

He lowered himself onto me and moved his leg, shifting us both so he could roll to the side, his cock slipping from inside me as he did. His arms encircled me and he held me close. His breath was coming fast and I could feel his heart beating hard in his chest. He pressed his face into my neck, damp and hot, alternately panting and crooning my name.

It felt like a long time before his breathing slowed to normal. He sat up and looked down into my face and smiled his mystery smile. I was still in disbelief. He'd said it three times, I knew I'd heard it right, but I didn't trust my ears.

He looked at me for a minute, stroking my hair. "You OK?" he asked.

"Umm, yeah," I said. My head was still sort of spinning, my thoughts swirling chaotically. "Patrick," I said. And then I didn't know what to say.

"Hmm?" His voice was lazy, satisfied. He lay down beside me and pressed his mouth to my neck, kissing me once.

"What—" I started, then stopped, still unsure. I tried to collect my thoughts, looking for the right combination of words to express my confusion. "What—" His hand moved lazily over my body, tracing the curve of my hip. I opened my mouth, waiting for my thoughts to form, but, "Why?" was all I could manage.

"Why?" He moved back far enough to look me in the face. "Why what, sweetie?"

"Why..." I wasn't sure. Why what? "I don't know. Everything! Why am I here? I mean, tonight? Why did you ask me to stay?"

"You don't want to?" he asked.

"No. I mean, YES, yes I want to stay," I said emphatically. "It's just...I'm confused. Did something happen? Or...why did you..." I stopped and sat up, my thoughts were all overlapping, tangling my sentences as I spoke. "You said you missed me. You said—" I stopped again. I looked at him, at the creases on his forehead, the grey hairs that looked golden in the soft lamp light, looked at the man I knew, without a doubt, I loved and it hit me hard. "Oh my God, Patrick," I breathed, "you said you loved me."

"I know," he said. "I do." Then, when I continued staring at him, he laughed. "Don't look so offended."

"No!" I said quickly, "I'm not. I'm not. It's just...I'm surprised. I mean, everything has been so strange tonight." I watched his smile fade slightly and quickly added, "Not bad strange." I put my hand on his chest and leaned a little closer. "I mean, oh my God, I've never been so turned-on, Patrick. You were so...even when you kissed me in the cab..." I couldn't put it into words, how excited I'd been, how all the little advances had thrilled me even as they'd left me wondering what was behind them.

"I'm sorry if it was sudden," he said gently. "If I wasn't such a coward I would've said it sooner."

"You're not a coward," I said. I leaned over and kissed his cheek.

He sighed, his great chest rising and falling under my palm. "I am. In addition to being an idiot." He smiled a half smile and closed his hand over mine. "I've been awarded medals for acts of bravery half a dozen times since I joined the police force, but facing down a suspect with a gun isn't as frightening as admitting how I feel."

I looked at him, not sure what to say. I'd heard the stories and I'd seen the medals. I'd always thought of him as fearless.