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.Then once she had, once she was trembling and impatient…That was when he decided to lick a little deeper.Only a little, she thought, yet it felt like a lot.The tip of his tongue just barely grazed her clit, but the flood of sensation it produced was almost too much for her to take.Her legs really did give in then, though it didn’t matter much anymore.He had hold of her, he had hold of her.His hands were on her hips now, steadying her.He was always steadying her.Just when she thought she was going to fall, there he was.And he kept being there, no matter what she did.She wound up sort of crouched over him, breathless and shaking, one hand twisted in his hair.He didn’t care.He kept licking her in that good, good way—in these short, sharp shocks that made her buzz all thick and nice—and when she said his name he did it faster.He did it with more intent, as though the sound of those two syllables spurred him on.“Bernie,” she said, “Bernie,” and suddenly he was ravenous.She could feel him kissing at her now, rather than just the little licks.His plump lips parted and slid around all sorts of things, making everything wetter and hotter and messier.Oh she was so incredibly, undeniably messy.She could feel it all slipping and sliding beneath the stroke of his tongue and the press of his mouth, could feel it spreading outward over her thighs.It was probably all over his face; he was probably swallowing the taste.But the strange thing was—she didn’t care.If anything, the idea only excited her more.She thought of his chin all glossy with her slipperiness and felt a surge of squirming arousal, half embarrassment and half sweetness and all perfection.She was going to come if he carried on this way.She was going to come if he carried on any way.He could have clicked his fingers, if she was being honest.Though she was glad he decided on sliding them between her legs instead.That was a much better way of finishing things off—and it did finish them.The second she felt him just sort of easing his thumb over her tightly clenched pussy, stroking rather than pressing inward but with that hint… That hint of actually doing it…She went over for that hint.She imagined him there, sliding in and out of her, stroking and finding all kinds of interesting things, and everything just disappeared over the edge of pleasure.She plummeted headfirst into a shivering, insane maze of intense bursts and sudden pulses, and even that seemed like an understatement.It just wasn’t like anything she’d ever experienced before.She’d touched herself there, of course.She’d let her fingers slide in just a little, egged on by curiosity and something like excitement.But none of it had even remotely gotten her close to this.His hand on her through her nightie hadn’t gotten her close to this.That last orgasm seemed like a pale imitation compared to the full-bodied gut punch of this thing, and not just because of the sheer intensity of it.There was also the length, dear God the length, oh Jesus no why wasn’t it stopping?It wasn’t stopping.He’d pulled back a bit—he’d had to, because she had hold of his hair and she really wanted him away—but it was still going on.It was squeezing her and squeezing her now, like some great giant’s hand that wanted to wring every bit of pleasure out of her body.By the time it was done she was a wet rag, completely boneless and ready to accept anything that he might want to do with her.So it was lucky, really, that his main urge was to pick her up and spread her out over the bed.And even after he’d done that, stroking and petting her into a peaceful laxity as he went, he didn’t go straight into something else.He didn’t let his own obvious desire overwhelm him.He went slowly, oh so slowly.He stood at the end of the bed, watching her gradually come back to herself.Then once she was breathing a little more steadily, he started peeling off his own clothes.One at a time, like before—like he knew she wanted to look and didn’t mind obliging.Yeah, he obliged all right.He shimmied his jeans down his legs and lingered over the stretch that helped him take his t-shirt off, and when he went for his socks he bent in a very particular sort of way.He put on a real show, in a way that should have pleased her.Yet strangely, it didn’t seem to.Instead she thought of how many times he must have posed in his life.How many photo shoots he had probably done, with someone telling him how to stand and be and what to do to look just right.To look like Holden Stark, she thought—and that pretty much sealed it.She closed her eyes.She closed her eyes and just said his name—his real name.And once he was still and silent and probably confused, she added the rest
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