Page 93 of Elite Player
I’m not sure what exactly she’s capturing, but in my mind’s eye, I see it from her point of view. My mouth open on her pussy, hands wrapped around her thighs, eyes full of lust.
I can’t hold it for long, my own pleasure in doing this a little too much to bear, and I shift, moving so I can slip my hand down to wrap around my cock, easing the ache, while I push two fingers inside her, long having learned exactly where and how to pet her. To make her come.
“Oh god, Nico…”
Even her moans are familiar. Her words. The way I know she’ll try to wiggle away before fully giving in, groaning my name again.
Like she does now.
Then she combs her fingers in my hair, the only reason I know she must’ve set her camera down, because I’m too busy drowning in her taste and trying not to come myself to notice if she’s still taking pictures or not.
As expected, her hips lift, chasing her orgasm, and I rub her clit a little harder with my tongue, press a little harder with my fingers. A second later, she releases it all—the coiled tension, the rush of wetness, and the satisfied way she says my name.
Never fails to make me grow harder.
As I kneel between her open legs, I realize that this moment needs to be memorialized too. Jo’s sleepy, sated smile. Her long hair strewn on the pillow, my still-damp fingers kneading her breasts.
I lift her camera to capture it all. Jo lets me take as many pictures as I want, and she doesn’t balk when I direct her to “Look at me, Jojo” or “Put your hand around my cock.” She follows all of my instructions, and I take so many photos, I could fill an entire album titled “Sex Goddess.”
But having her mouth suck on me while she stares up at me for the camera is too much, and I gently nudge her away, so I can set her equipment on the nightstand, only to return to her side. Rolling us so I’m spooning her, I curl one arm under her neck and the other under her top leg, making room for me.
“This okay?” I ask, and she nods, tilting her head to offer me her mouth.
“It’s perfect.”
Yes, perfect.
It doesn’t take much for me to sink my length into her, easing in and out an inch at a time, achingly slow. It’s too slow, yet I don’t want to speed up.
I want to pause time and live in this excruciatingly perfect moment with her body pliant and whispered words trapped between us.
I kiss her neck, feeling her pulse under my lips, and I tell her so.
She says it always amazes her how well we fit together.
I remind her that she was made for me.
She smiles because she likes that idea then reaches her handback to wrap around the nape of my neck, keeping me close, my lips on her shoulder, teeth grazing her skin.
Hours pass.
Probably days.
Maybe even a month.
I don’t care.
It’s not enough time.
But we can’t prolong it any longer, and she arches against me while I give in to one final thrust, both of us falling over the edge together.
More words bubble up inside me. Confessions of love and declarations of how I am sure we are fated mates. That I know it may sound ridiculous, but I’m more sure of that than anything else in my life. I rehearse the lines over and over, thinking about how to make it less silly, more profound, but in the end, I think honesty is the best policy.
I simply have to tell her the truth. That’s all she’s ever wanted.
I lean up on my elbow. “Jo.”
But she’s already asleep, eyes closed, breaths coming soft and even through parted lips.
