Reconstructing Meredith (6 page)

“Do you want me to stop?” I asked.

“No.” But she didn’t sound so sure.

“Tell me if you want me to keep going.”

“I want…” Her voice shook when she spoke again. “What if I can’t come?”

I dropped a light kiss between her breasts and looked up at her. “Then I’ll make you come a different way.” Another kiss, a half an inch or so lower. “I meant what I said, baby. I’m not asking you to perform.” Still another, still lower. “I’m doing this for you, not for me.”

At that, she relaxed a little more.

“Tell me your safe words.”

She took a breath. “Red to stop, yellow to slow down.”

“Good. Do you want me to keep going?”

Almost inaudibly, she said, “Yes.”

I continued, kissing my way down her belly. “I don’t know if I ever told you”—I paused to kiss her warm skin—“how much I love the way your pussy tastes.”

She shivered.

“And when you come…” I dropped a soft kiss just above her navel. “…Jesus, baby, the way you taste when you come…” Another light kiss, and her muscles quivered beneath my lips. I looked up at her. “Are you sure you want me to do this?”

The silence lingered long enough I was certain she’d had second thoughts. My blood turned cold when she finally whispered, “No.”

I raised my head.

“I’m not sure if I am.” Her cheeks colored when she looked down at me. “But I’m not ready for you to stop.”

“Then I won’t.” I dipped my head and let my lip touch her inner thigh when I spoke. “I won’t stop until you tell me to.” I kissed her inner thigh again, this time just a breath away from her pussy, and the light scent of her made my mouth water. “Do you want me to do this?”

Please say yes, baby. Please, please say yes
.

“Yes,” she whispered. Then she cleared her throat and said it again, louder and with more confidence this time, “Yes.”

That first taste nearly drove me out of my mind. Oh my God, the way she tasted. Tangy, sweet, so intoxicating I forgot where I was for a few seconds. I teased her pussy lips apart with the tip of my tongue, and the way she moaned and squirmed made me as lightheaded as the way she tasted. I was rock hard, my entire body aching with the need to fuck her, but I could have done this all night.

I worked my way up to her clit, and she gasped when I circled it with my tongue. She moaned again when I slipped two fingers inside her. Curling them just slightly, I beckoned. A little more, a little more, until—

“Oh,
fuck
,” she whimpered, clawing at the sheets as her back arched beneath her.

There.

I made slow, gentle circles on her G-spot with my fingertips, moving them in time with my tongue on her clit. Every breath she took was sharper and shallower than the last, and I had to lay my other arm across her hips just to keep her from pulling away from me.

Her breath caught and her pussy tightened around my fingers. I could barely breathe myself, my heart pounding faster and faster as she neared the edge. A distant memory wandered through my consciousness, taking me back to those nights when I would make her come just like this, then fuck her absolutely senseless. Neither of us ever came as hard as we did like that, when her orgasm followed so closely on the heels of another, and her pussy was so, so wet, so—

“Wait.” Her voice jarred my wandering mind back into the present. “Scott, stop.”

Before the first word was off her lips, I’d stopped. Ignoring the disappointment tugging at my gut, I pushed myself on to my arms and came back up to her. “What’s wrong?”

“I—” She paused, then shook her head as she wrapped her arms around my neck. “I just can’t. I’m not ready for this yet.”

“Then I won’t push you.” I kissed her, shivering as she slipped her tongue between my lips. She’d always loved kissing me after I’d gone down on her, and at least that much hadn’t changed.

“Fuck me,” she murmured into my kiss. “Please, fuck me.”

“That, I can do.” I made quick work of getting a condom out and on, and as soon as I was on top of her again, she pulled me down into a deep, passionate kiss.

A gasp from both of us broke that kiss when I thrust into her. My eyes rolled back and a low growl emerged from the back of my throat. Just like going down on her, I could have done this all night. All damned night.

“You feel amazing,” I groaned. “Jesus Christ…”

“So do you,” she whispered, but something about the way she said it turned my blood cold.

I looked down at her. She met my eyes, but something was… off. Even as I fucked her, just as she’d asked me to do, she didn’t relax. Something in her eyes and the furrow of her brow spoke of lingering frustration.

“Do you like that?” I asked, testing the water.

She closed her eyes. “Yeah.” On just that single syllable, her voice cracked. Almost imperceptibly, but it definitely cracked.

Shit
.

I slowed my strokes and bent to kiss her. Physically, she enjoyed this, but in her mind, she’d lost. She’d tried to get past an obstacle, and though she’d made headway, it wasn’t enough for her. She was too proud, too strong, to accept that kind of defeat.

“Let me taste you again,” I whispered.

She looked at me with wide eyes. “But I…”

“I want to taste your pussy again.” I leaned down to kiss her neck. Then I whispered in her ear, “You just don’t know how much that turns me on.”

She shivered, but she was still tense.

“If you want me to stop again, I promise I will.” I raised my head again. “You know I’ll stop if you ask me to.”

She held my gaze.

I swallowed hard.
Give me another chance to help you get past this
.

Finally, she gave a single, slow nod.

Relief and arousal alike rushed through me. “Just say the word,” I said. “All you have to do is say stop. You remember your safe words?”

“Red to stop, yellow to back off.”

“Good.” I kissed her again and withdrew. She shivered, but didn’t protest while I trailed soft kisses down her neck and chest. I continued down, down, down, moving slowly enough to keep from unsettling her, giving her time to get used to me, to voice second thoughts if they came to her.

If they came to her, she didn’t make them known. I kissed her hipbone, then her inner thigh, glancing up at her in case there was any apprehension on her face, and there was. Worry creased her forehead. Her eyes were screwed shut, her lips pressed together in a thin, pale line.

“Do you want me to stop?” I asked.

“No,” she breathed, and the creases in her forehead diminished slightly. “No, I don’t want you to stop.”

Without another word—but with a silent prayer that I could help her over, past,
through
this wall—I went down on her again.

Even the faint hint of bitterness from the condom couldn’t take away from the sweetness of her pussy, and before long, even that was gone, leaving me with only the sweet, heady taste of
her
. The tension in her body language wasn’t so quick to melt away, but after a few minutes, melt away it did. She relaxed enough to let my fingers slide easily in and out of her. Her own fingers alternately combed through my hair and clawed at the bedsheets. Her breathing eased into an uneven rhythm of gasps and sighs.

Her back arched and I laid my arm across her hips again to hold her steady. Minute by minute, she gave in a little more. Closer and closer, letting herself go a little at a time. Her hips squirmed beneath my arm and her spine lifted off the bed. The whimper that escaped her lips was strained. Choked. Her pussy tightened. Her breathing quickened.

My heart pounded.
Yes, baby, come. Let yourself go
.

She exhaled hard and her body relaxed suddenly. The breath she released this time was a hiss of frustration, of defeat. She’d let herself get right to the edge, then pulled back. Fear, apprehension, something had drawn her away from it.

I didn’t relent with mouth or fingers, though. I had all the time in the world to coax her back to the brink, and if she didn’t want to give up, neither did I.

She fought me—no, the demons of her past, not me—every step of the way. One moment, she pressed her pussy against me, silently demanding more. The next, she drew back just slightly. More, less, more, less. Her breathing would become rapid and shallow, coming in sharp gasps as she squeezed my fingers and inched that. Much.
Closer
.

Then she’d relax again. A sigh would escape her lips, and we’d begin that climb, that dance, once again. My jaw was tired and my neck ached, but I refused to stop until she told me to or she came, whichever happened first.

“Oh my God, Scott,” she moaned. The hand in my hair twitched and trembled. Every stroke with my fingers was more difficult than the last as she squeezed them harder, and her hips tried to buck against my arm, but I held her still, held her steady, and kept teasing her clit and G-spot.

She shuddered.

Gasped.

Held her breath.

Then she exhaled hard, and once again, her orgasm faded before it had begun.

She still didn’t ask me to stop. I still didn’t stop. The demons Rich had left in her head would win this one over my dead body.

Just as we had so many times, we made the climb again. Shallower breathing. Crescendoing moans. Trembling, squeezing, shuddering,
let yourself go
,
baby
…

She teetered there, right there, balancing on that fine line between giving in and pulling back, and I encouraged her to inch toward giving in, toward crossing over to that point of no return. I kept fluttering my tongue on and around her clit, kept stroking her G-spot with two fingers, kept going, kept going, a little faster, kept going, kept—

With a breathless moan, she surrendered. Even with my arm across them, her hips lifted off the bed. Her body writhed against me, and her pussy tightened almost enough to prevent my fingers from moving at all. She gasped and trembled, rocking her hips in time with my hand, fucking my fingers as her own hand gripped my hair.

I backed off. My fingers moved slower now, and with my tongue, I made gentle, languid circles around her clit without actually touching it. I let her just begin to catch her breath, then carefully moved in on her clit again, keeping my touch light so she wouldn’t get painfully sensitive.

And just as I’d hoped, that first orgasm crumbled whatever had kept her from letting go, and it took mere moments to make her come a second time. When she did, I didn’t even have time to mentally thumb my nose in her bastard ex’s direction, because my own need for release—my need to fuck her until neither of us could take anymore—overwhelmed me.

The instant her body relaxed and she released a long sigh, I withdrew my fingers. Moved up. Over her. Above her. Inside her. Deep inside her. Oh, fuck, so damned tight. Her legs around my waist. Her breath on my face. Her mouth against mine. Nails on my back. Oh my God, rocking her hips. Pulling me deeper. Tighter.
Tighter
. So. Fucking. Tight.

With a throaty cry, she arched her back beneath me and came a third time, hauling me right to and beyond that brink with her. I thrust a few more times, as many times as this delirium would allow, then shuddered so violently it was almost painful before I collapsed over her. The entire universe went white, went silver, went to fucking pieces all around me and in me and had I been able to release my breath at all, I’d have roared with the sheer intensity of it all.

It was probably less than a minute, but it felt like hours before I stopped shaking enough to lift myself up on to my forearms.

“I forgot how much I love what you do with your mouth,” she said, panting.

I grinned. “Any time you want me to remind you,” I slurred, “just say the word.”

She laughed. Then she reached up and brushed her thumb just below my eye. “I didn’t make you cry this time, did I?”

“What?” I reached up, and sure enough, my eyes were wet. I chuckled. “No, you didn’t make me cry.”

“So you just have something in your eye?”

“Very funny,” I growled, leaning down to kiss her. “Like your eyes have never watered when you’ve had an intense orgasm.”

She grinned. “But there’s so much more to brag about if I get to say I made Scott fucking Moore cry during sex.”

I laughed. “You
would
brag about that, wouldn’t you?”

“You’d better believe it.”

“Bitch,” I muttered.

“Pussy.” She giggled when I rolled my eyes.

I tried not to grin. “Why do I get the feeling you’re going to be a bratty sub?”

She showed her palms. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Uh-huh.” I gave her the sternest look I could muster, but it didn’t last, and we both laughed. Then I pulled out slowly, sat up, and got out of bed to take care of the condom. As I did, I couldn’t decide what shook more: my hands or my knees. In spite of that unsteadiness, though, I managed to get rid of the condom and get back into bed without incident.