8. Taylor

"Lips have over a million nerve endings, making them the most sensitive part of the body." ~ Tim Rhodes

My entire bodyvibrated with mini-aftershocks that were nearly as satisfying as the main event. Never in my life had a man brought me so close to orgasm so many times before finally making me come so hard I'd seen stars. There were literal stars behind my closed lids.

On the rare occasions that a partner did get me close to the finish line, I had to work overtime not to disqualify myself by overthinking.

That was not an issue tonight. Kyle had listened to me. He'd taken what I'd told him and ran with it. I'd heard the expression being fucked silly, but I never thought it was an actual condition. Somehow, even though we hadn't had sex yet—not penetrative sex anyway—that was exactly what I was suffering from. I couldn't muster up enough brain cells to form a sentence, much less overthink anything.

A shiver ran through me as his lips pressed two soft kisses to my thighs before he pushed up and moved off the bed. I would have screamed in protest, but I didn't have the strength. When I saw him start to remove his shirt, I was grateful for my post-event lethargy. If I had begged him not to leave the bed, I'd have embarrassed myself for no reason and missed the striptease.

His shirt fell to the ground, and he pushed his sweats down. As he stepped out of his joggers, I took the opportunity to study his muscled upper body. His chest, arms, and torso were chiseled to perfection, and, bonus, he had several large tattoos, which I'd always been a sucker for.

When he straightened, his erection jutted from his body, strong and proud. My mouth watered at the sight. Whatever his job was, it had to be physical. His body was not made in a gym; it was carved from manual labor. Most people might not be able to tell the difference, and it's not like I could point out one muscle that gave away the distinction, but somehow, I knew he worked hard at life, not inside with weights.

His hand moved, and I watched as his fingers wrapped around his thick shaft as his gravelly voice stated, "Come here."

The authority in his tone caused my entire body to flush and my sex to flutter. I'd just had an insane climax and already felt the rumblings of another one. Unable to push up on my jelly-like limbs, I rolled to my side and then stood on shaky legs.

As I walked towards him, his predatory stare held mine. I felt like I was dreaming, like this wasn't truly happening. I didn't even know the man's name who had just given me the most incredible orgasm of my life. But at the same time, I felt more present, more authentic than I had ever felt before.

Maybe that's what I'd needed to crack open my Pandora's box of pleasure: anonymity. Although, that theory didn't support itself because I could never do this with a stranger, which this man wasn't. I knew him. I might not know his birthday, his favorite pizza topping, or how old he was when he had his first girlfriend, but I knew him.

Even if I had a thousand lifetimes to write a thesis on what was transpiring between us, I didn't think I'd ever properly be able to put it into words. From the moment he'd sat down at the bar, my soul recognized him. When he looked into my eyes, there was a synergy between us that I'd never experienced before with anyone in my life.

When I stopped in front of him, I was panting, literally in anticipation of what was going to come next. I really hoped it was him and then me again. I'd never had multiple orgasms, but tonight was a night of firsts. Tonight was a night of possibility. Tonight was a night of suspended reality. Tonight was a night of magic.

"Get on your knees," he instructed.

At his bold command, my inner muscles, which were already fluttering, started clenching with need. I did as he asked and lowered down, but kept my eyes raised to his. It wasn't just the fact that he took control that was turning me on so much; it was the way he was doing it.

There was no hesitation. No second-guessing. No getting sidetracked. It was clear he was in charge; he was driving this pleasure train, and I was happily along for the ride.

"Give me your hand," he ordered.

I started to lift my right arm.

"No. Your left."

His clarification caused another tremor to erupt between my legs. I couldn't say why, but the fact that he'd specified which hand somehow made this even hotter.

As I lifted my left arm, I could see and feel my hand trembling. He cradled my fingers in his and leaned down, lowering his head as he pressed his lips to my knuckles. I was so lost in how good his kiss felt on an area I wouldn't have thought had any sort of erogenous zone that I didn't even notice him sliding off the black hair tie that I always slept with on my wrist; it was like a grown-up version of a blankie. Plus, it was handy to use in the morning to pull my hair up.

After removing it, he gently lowered my arm. I watched, wondering what he was going to do with it. Would he bind both my wrists together? I'd only been tied up once, with the boyfriend I'd had in college. It hadn't been as hot as I'd hoped it would be.

Somehow, I didn't think that would be the case in this situation.

Instead of restraining me, Kyle gathered my hair in his hands. Once he'd collected every strand, he held it in his fist before wrapping the band several times. The ponytail held the perfect amount of pressure, which told me he was not a novice at doing this. He was either a hairdresser or had a kid.

If I had to guess one, I would say he was a dad, but he didn't mention any kids with his fiancée. But he did say that he knew she'd be a good mom. Maybe he had a child from a previous…

"Stop," he commanded gruffly.

My eyes shot back up to his. I honestly had no clue what I'd done. I hadn't moved.

"What?"

"Stop. Thinking," he stated firmly.

Oh, right. Yeah, I had been doing that.

He tightened the grip he had on my ponytail, and the sting on my scalp shot directly down between my legs. I watched as his other hand wrapped around his erection. He squeezed his grip, and I saw a large drop of arousal appear on his tip.

"Open your mouth."

Saliva flooded my mouth in anticipation as my lips parted. I expected him to feed his cock to me, but instead, he traced my lips with the tip of his dick. He spread his pre-cum, applying it like gloss to my lips.

I loved the feeling of his arousal coating my mouth. I loved the feeling of his slick skin sliding against my sensitive lips. I also loved being on my knees in front of this man. I loved the feeling of the tightly woven chevron-patterned carpeting digging into my knees to the point of discomfort. I loved being on that precipice of pain and pleasure.

When I tried to take him further into my mouth, he shifted his hips back, making me look like a hungry baby bird begging for his worm. I didn't care what it looked like. I wanted him that badly.

"Lick your lips. I want you to taste me," he gritted out.

Keeping my eyes locked with his, my tongue slid between my lips, and I tasted his sweet, tart arousal.

"Mmm," I hummed.

His jaw tensed. The next thing I knew, he'd picked me up and tossed me on the bed. I bounced on the mattress as he grabbed the condom from the nightstand. I watched as he rolled it on before moving onto the bed and hovering above me. His forearms framed my head as he shifted one knee beneath my thigh, causing my hips to tilt up. He stared at me as he reached between our bodies. I felt his fingers glide up and down my folds, sending tingles of bliss swirling in my belly.

"So wet," he growled.

All I could do was nod in agreement as he lined himself up at my entrance. For a moment, all I felt was the pressure of his head. I felt my entire body tensing with anticipation. I wanted this—to feel him inside of me more than I think I'd ever wanted anything in my life. Desperation didn't begin to cover what I was experiencing.

"Breathe," he instructed.

His hand moved to my hip, and I exhaled at the exact moment he pushed past my barrier. Every cell in my body lit up as he entered me. I gasped at the intrusion as the sting morphed into pleasure. His fingertips dug into my flesh as he rested his forehead against mine and looked down, watching himself disappear as he drove into me with a single forceful thrust.

My inner walls palpitated around him, adjusting to his size. Once he'd filled me completely, he stilled for just a moment before pulling out and pushing forward even harder. As he retreated once more, his hand moved from my hip to my thigh. He pulled my leg up to his waist before plunging into me with enough power to steal my breath once more. I tried to take a breath, but he drove into me again, and again, and again. I feared that I was on the brink of hyperventilating, but the lack of oxygen was only amplifying the experience.

That was the last cognitive thought I had before he began to plunge into me with unrelenting passion and fervor. I completely lost myself in the rhythm and pleasure. I couldn't think; all I could do was feel.

I was so oblivious to what was going on that my climax took me completely by surprise. One second, I was floating in delirium; the next, I was crying out as a rush of sensation so intense I nearly blacked out overtook me. Dizzying explosions of ecstasy exploded throughout my body. One after another, each one better than the last.

Tingles were still erupting in my core when Kyle pushed into me one last time. His entire body tensed above me. I raked my nails up his back, loving the feel of his muscles rippling beneath my touch.

When he collapsed on top of me, I continued running my fingers up across his shoulders and up and down his back. Neither of us spoke as we both recovered. Our labored breaths and the rain against the window were the only sounds. Soon, or at least too soon for me, he pushed off of me and went to the bathroom to dispose of the condom. When he came back, he held a warm cloth.

I started to take it from him, but he denied me access.

"No. This is my job."

I couldn't help but grin as he lowered down beside me and spread my legs apart, gently wiping the cloth on the apex of my legs. Even though I'd had two orgasms, the way he was caring for me, combined with the rough texture of the washcloth, had my body rallying for number three.

"That was…really…" Good didn't seem like a powerful enough adjective to describe what we'd just shared.

"Perfect," he said as he set the cloth to the side and laid down beside me.

"Perfect," I parroted.

For a split second, I thought he was just going to close his eyes and go to sleep, but then he rolled over and pulled me to him, so I was the little spoon. I'd never enjoyed cuddling, even with partners I felt comfortable with. It was probably an extension of my sensory issues. But being held by Kyle, being tucked into him, feeling his skin against mine, felt safe. It felt right. It felt perfect.