I pushed the door open and found him standing at the vanity in front of the mirror. His erection seemed to have grown, if that was even possible, and I could see his pulse thrumming in his neck.
My heart almost broke. I wanted to touch him, to make this better, to relieve his aching tension. “Cohen,” I whispered. “Let me.”
His eyes fell closed at the sound of my voice, and everything my words implied. He turned to face me, and I reached for his waistband and nimbly began undoing the tie that held his shorts together.
He swallowed roughly. I could see him deciding if he should stop me. “Eliza…”
“Shh. Let me take care of it. Please.”
He groaned in relief.
With the tie now free, I eased the shorts down low on his hips, and his impressive erection jutted out in front of him. My knees buckled with the desire to drop down and take him into my mouth. But I couldn’t rush this. I couldn’t rush him. I wanted this too badly.
He was beautiful. His thick c**k was tense and begging for attention. “What do you want?” I whispered, looking up at him.
He brought his hand to my jaw and rubbed a slow circle along my skin. “Touch me.”
I brought my hands to his sides and trailed them down his belly and over the soft trace of hair below his navel. When I gripped his shaft, he sucked in a deep breath and held it. His c**k was warm and solid in my palm. I trailed the pad of my thumb over the swollen head, spreading the bead of fluid that had already accumulated there.
I stroked him slowly savoring the newness, the feel of him, watching the way his chest rose and fell. It’d been a long time since I’d given a hand job but I was bound and determined to make this the best damn hand job ever.
His hand hadn’t left my jaw, and he pulled me in to his mouth and kissed me, soft at first, then parting my lips to stroke his tongue with mine.
His kiss was intoxicating. The warmth of his mouth, the skilled way his tongue flirted with mine. Knowing we probably weren’t going to have sex heightened all my senses and my brain commanded that I pay attention to every touch, each sensation, it was a completely different experience than I was used to. It was all about the buildup rather than a single moment of bliss.
I pushed him toward the vanity so his backside was leaning against the edge of the counter, and tugged his shorts lower. It was time to get down to business. I couldn’t wait any longer to have his beautiful c**k all to myself and watch him spurt all over his stomach.
I reached behind him into my bathroom bag on the counter. I found the bottle of coconut tanning oil I’d brought and squirted some into my palm. The oil instantly warmed on my skin and when I brought my hand to him, he inhaled sharply. “Fuck, Eliza,” he breathed, pulling me closer by the back of my neck. I smiled as his lips met mine.
The scent of coconut surrounded us as I worked my hand up and down his cock. “Oh f**k, f**k, that feels amazing babe,” he whispered. My lips curled into a devilish grin and I kissed him again.
I felt his hands tugging at the strings of my bikini top, and I almost laughed, surprised it had taken him this long to go for them. Once the top was untied, it fell free to the floor and I stood before him, pushing my naked chest out for his appraisal.
I slowed my pace while he drank me in. He swallowed roughly and brought both hands up to cup my br**sts, rubbing his thumbs over my ni**les. The desire reflected in his eyes shot a throbbing pulse straight to my clit. God, I wanted this man. I wanted him to make me his.
He dipped his head to kiss my br**sts, pressing them together with his palms. He ran his tongue along my cle**age, teasing me. I wanted to feel his mouth on my hardened nubs, but he continued his soft, tortuous kisses. I wanted more, so much more, but if this was all I could have, I would take it, eagerly.
He continued nibbling and sucking on my br**sts while my oil-slicked palm slid up and down between us.
My br**sts jiggled with the effort of pumping my hand up and down, and our movements reflected back at us from the mirror made the experience all the more intimate. There was no hiding, no closed eyes, and no darkness to shield us.
Without warning he groaned out his release, burying his face in my neck.
I watched as a puddle of warm, white se**n squirted onto his stomach and mine. We were both breathing hard when he kissed me.
“Why’d you do that?” he whispered against my lips.
“Because I wanted to.”
He grabbed a handful of tissues and cleaned me off first, then himself.
“What about you?” he whispered.
My heart rate skyrocketed, but I tried to appear composed as possible, shrugging at his question rather than answering it directly. I was desperate for his touch, but only if he wanted to touch me.
He kissed my lips softly then bent down, pressing damp kisses along my collarbone. He lowered himself farther to thoroughly suckle at each of my br**sts, before dropping to his knees in front of me. I tossed my head back, in complete amazement at his talented mouth. He worked his way lower, kissing my belly, my hip bones. My heart was beating so erratically it felt like it was about to burst from my chest.
He gazed up at me and began untying the strings at my hips. My bikini bottoms fell away, and I found myself extremely thankful that I’d made time for my monthly waxing appointment the previous week.
He leaned forward and kissed my bare mound, teasing and moving lower with each kiss. My eyes were glued to him. He was beautiful and perfect, his dark eyelashes resting against his cheeks, and his full mouth against my most delicate parts.