Consequences

Part 91

The kiss was voracious. Simple in its demands. But glorious in its execution. His mouth opened over hers and his tongue danced into her mouth signaling exactly what was to come. Years of experience poured into that kiss. Years of wanting took that kiss from a contact of lips to a merging of passion. Who knew that love took a basic act and made it sheer heaven.

Several minutes later, Doug released her mouth. Breathing hard, he lifted up, tugged off his shirt pullover style, the buttons on the sleeves pulled and flew. He didn't care. Seconds later he joined her, torso for torso. Bare skin, hot bare skin fired up an inferno.

The sprinkling of hair on his chest teased her already taut nipples, brushed abrasively, streaking fire from the twin points of contact. Isabelle wasn't conscious enough to concede that her imagination was sorely limited when it came to what making love would feel like. This was more than she had ever imagined it was possible to feel. So much more.

Doug's nipples hardened. The simple act of skin against skin had an already hard body moving into the painfully hard realm. His fingers reached between them, finding that moist seam again, teasing a path between damp folds, and with years of experience to rely on finding a tiny nub with a hairpin trigger. He paused. Just a fraction of a second. Then grazing that kernel of nerves with the nail of his thumb Doug sent Isabelle careering over the edge.

Isabelle bucked, screamed and thrashed as she crested then fell. He stayed with her, his nail gently flicking at that tiny nub, as he ensured her climax. Isabelle's eyes rolled to the back of her head. Every single cell flooded with sensation. An overload of sensation. It was several seconds before she was even breathing again!

Then while Isabelle came down from that first climax Doug unlocked her legs from around his waist and rolled off her. As she took more than a moment to recover he quickly shucked off his trousers and boxer shorts. Haste. That's what he aimed for in stripping off. Desperate to get back to skin to skin contact.

In a daze, her head turned to the side, as she sucked in lungful after lungful of air Isabelle watched Doug discard his clothes hurriedly. Dropping them on the floor, without any hesitation. Openly she studied Doug and wondered whether she could accommodate the man.

He found her watching him. So he stood, not at all shy. Isabelle couldn't help the gulp. He couldn't help the smile. She was doing wonders for his ego.

Then, still smiling he joined her on the bed. She shifted, languorously. He snuggled closer. His fingers traced her cheek bone, his thumb teased across her lips, parting them. She sucked his thumb into her mouth, her tongue instinctively circling the circumference. Doug eased her back. Rolled her onto her back, lowered his head and kissed her jaw line, her neck, her collarbone, back to her shoulders. Small heated kisses that she knew were just appetizers. Now that she knew how it felt to splinter, she knew these kisses were just the prelude.

Doug pressed kisses to hot silky skin, taking his time once again. Trailing kisses that left blazes in their wake as nerve endings went up in flame. His lips, his tongue, his fingertips leaving singed nerve endings in their wake. Then his hands linked with hers, their fingers intertwining, and with their hands locked he slid her hands up, so that they framed her head. Still linked with their hands he rolled so that he almost fully covered her, torso to torso. His knees nudged her legs apart, he flexed and arched his hips as he settled, encouraging her to spread her legs wider. Then as he lay on her, enveloped by her thighs he resumed kissing her. Working slowly, taking his time, his lips increased the pressure on hers. His hardness pressed against her inner thigh. With a slow, teasing movement, and years of experience to guide him he moved so that he was positioned close to the source of that damp heat.

Doug broke off the kiss. Their breathing was shallow. He waited for her to open her eyes. He took stock of the fact her pupils were fully dilated. His eyes flicked to her lips then back to her eyes. She watched, waited, wondered. "Now?" He asked hoarsely.

"Yes, please, yes, now." She begged in relief.

Gently Doug nudged inward. His hips inching him toward his goal. Slow penetration, giving her time to get used to his size. Isabelle licked at her lower lip, her eyes widening as she felt that first gentle push.

"Ok?" He murmured as he watched her reaction. He was a big man. He knew that. She was learning that. Isabelle nodded. He stroked forward. Gently. Isabelle arched automatically, her body desperate to give him better access. She was slick. He was hard. He pushed forward, one swift thrust. Then froze. He looked down at her face, then with a groan as he fought for control he leaned forward and kissed her tenderly. Just a bit further, she could feel it, just a bit further.

But even as she anticipated the next push forward Doug pulled out. He framed her face, and looked into her eyes. Had he rushed her? "I'm sorry. I didn't know." Doug whispered against her ear. Drawing in gulps of air, he fought to take control of his desires and remember his promise to himself to see to her needs first.

His fingers slid down the side of her body, past her waist, to her hip, then they slid across, past the hip bone, past the curls, finding the tiny nub. Wanting to take her back to that paradise she had experienced earlier. The pad of his finger found his goal. He stroked gently, brushing erotically at the bundle of nerves. As if a switch had been hit, Isabelle bucked. This time his mouth remained fused to hers as she thrashed beneath him. Eventually he released her lips and headed for her breast. Isabelle was a quivering mass of emotional aftermath. But if she thought they were done, she was about to learn otherwise

Doug took the other breast into his mouth. Once again Isabelle lost thought, incoherent, moaning, squirming, pushing her hips forward, trying to reach something just out of reach. He returned to her lips. Teasing them, tracing them with his tongue, then plunging in. Isabelle held his head, then her hands moved to his corded shoulders. She gripped. Her nails dug in.

Seeing she was ready he gently fit himself to her and tenderly eased forward.

The cords in his neck stood to attention, straining as he sought to maintain control.