Slow Hands

*
    M ADDY WAS DYING . And living. Flying. Spinning. Both crying in frustration and shouting in pure delight as she climaxed again and again. Over the next hour, as Jake—with his incredible mouth, his miraculous hands—continued to touch, kiss, taste every inch of her body, she found herself unable to do a single thing but enjoy it.
    Rational thoughts drifted away. There was only sensation. No decision to arch up when his tongue scraped across her nipple, just a primal need to have him suckle her again. No conscious awareness that he intended to make the most intimate love to her with his mouth, just the shocking delight of it when his tongue slipped between her wet folds and unerringly delved into her core.
    “Oh, God, again?” she groaned, disbelieving as the pressure built, then roared into heat that rushed to every other part of her.
    She had not known she was physically capable of such continuous delight. The waves kept coming, relentlessly, like the pounding of the surf on a shore during a wild winter storm. They built, took her high, threw her over the crest into wild orgasm. Then eased back down, only to start building all over again with a stroke here or a kiss there.
    She understood now. Why women fought over him.
    The man had to be the world’s greatest lover.
    “I think I have to be in you now, Maddy.”
    “I’d say it’s about damn time,” she gasped. “But I’d be lying if I didn’t admit I’ve loved every single minute.”
    “I know.” No cockiness. Just pure, sultry self-confidence.
    He slid up her body, finally unfastening his jeans and pushing them off his hips as he moved over her. She kissed him, licking into his mouth, tasting herself on his tongue but not giving a damn.
    But she was not about to let him sheathe himself with one of the condoms she’d grabbed from the bedside table without at least a little reciprocation. Maddy had been dying to experience some of what he’d done. To touch, to stroke, to see him at the very least. He had ruthlessly stopped her every previous effort to do so in his determination to please her.
    Now, the incredible willpower seemed to have finally left him. He was almost beyond rational thought, too.
    Maddy pushed him onto his back, rolling up to kneel beside him, staring at the immense golden chest, the wiry hair surrounding his nipples. It trailed in a thin line down his flat stomach, disappearing beneath the waistband of his tight boxer briefs.
    “Oh my,” she whispered, seeing the big bulge in the middle of those briefs. She’d certainly felt the power of him pressed against her, but her eyes hadn’t yet experienced the pleasure. Nor had her hands. Or her mouth.
    That was about to change.
    She reached out, tentatively, touching a spot of wetness on the fabric. Almost dazed with need, she brought her finger to her tongue and tasted it.
    “Maddy…”
    “I don’t want to hear one word out of you,” she warned sternly. “Not a single word.”
    “Yes, ma’am.” Laughter danced in his eyes, but didn’t spill from his mouth. No, his mouth was too busy emitting a deep, guttural groan as Maddy reached down and tugged at the briefs.
    She was careful, cautious when pulling them out and down. Maddy wanted that magnificent erection revealed to her as deliberately, slowly and seductively as her breasts had been to him. As if she was opening some very special, beautifully wrapped present that was going to make her incredibly happy.
    Well, wasn’t she?
    Her hand shook as the side of her pinky brushed against the smooth, incredibly soft skin beneath the cotton. Some anticipatory devil made her close her eyes, wanting to delay the delicious moment of exposure.
    When she’d finally pulled the boxers all the way to his hips, Jake lifted up a little and pushed them down and off himself.
    And Maddy finally opened her eyes.
    “Oh, Jake,” she whispered, unable to contain a tiny gasp of surprise. Not just because of how incredibly hard—aroused, throbbing and proud—he was, but at the pure masculine beauty of him. Still kneeling at his hip, she smiled—almost purred, really—as she stared greedily at the velvet-skinned member.
    Her last lover had been incredibly long and thin there , believing his extreme length made any kind of skill unnecessary.
    Jake, well, he was something else entirely . He might not have the inordinate length, but she should have expected, given the breadth of his shoulders and chest, that the man would be unbelievably