Midnight Delight Again

Not but a few weeks after our first Midnight Delight, I found myself woken once again by toe-curling kisses in the dead of night.

“Mmph? Oh! Hey.” Each of my utterances were interrupted by a press of his warm lips. I fanned my hands along his jaw line and cheekbones before running my fingers through his hair as I returned kisses in kind. His hips settled between my thighs, one hand skimming over my left breast on a quest southward as the other braced his upper body off of me.

“Andrew?” I gasped out as he yanked my sleep shorts to the side to find me already soaked for him.

“Mhmm,” he muttered. In the moonlight peaking through the curtains, I noticed his eyes were closed as he breathed soft and even. Was he asleep?!

“Andr-” I stopped with a gasp as one long finger slipped inside. The gasp became an embarrassingly loud moan as his thumb slid up to trace circles around my clitoris. What was I about to say? A second finger joined the first. Why was I even talking? His thumb stopped circling to instead flick intermittently across my clit. Who needs to talk when the world’s most talented fingers are playing you like an instrument of pleasure?

My moans increased in volume, my hips rocking against his hands, until I arched up with a cry through my climax. I could feel my inner walls clamping and fluttering around his fingers, drawing him in. I opened blurry eyes to meet his confused gaze. Oh. That’s right. He really must have been asleep. Realization settled in his eyes. It might have been a trick of the moonlight but I swear they got darker, more heated. He drew in a deep breath through his nose.

“Andr-” I started, but I was cut off once more, this time by fierce, hot kisses. Teeth clacked together, tongues tangled. His fingers continued their earlier ministrations until the first flutters of my second climax began. I mewled in protest, teetering right at the edge of going over when he pulled back, withdrawing completely. My hips chased after his fingers until his hand slammed them back into the mattress. Then he was pressing in; his hard length stretching me sent me over. Never was I more grateful for his penchant for sleeping nude than tonight. If I had been made to wait one more moment, I would surely have gone insane.

His mouth swallowed my screams of pleasure until they turned into low moans. Only then did his kisses become more gentle and turn into soft, sipping kisses, dragging at my lips.

When I came back to myself I could feel my inner walls once again fluttering and grasping, this time on something much bigger than earlier, drawing him deeper still. He reared back, gasping like he’d just run a marathon, his whole body tense to the point of shaking as he braced his hands atop the head board above me, holding himself back.

Seeing I was once again present, he began to move with slow drawn-out thrusts, in and out, sometimes pausing unbearably long before diving back into me. My heels dug into his buttocks. My hands tangled into his hair before scraping down his back. I lifted up to latch onto his neck, sucking hard at his pulse point, thrilling at the thought of possibly leaving a mark.

A strangled sound left him then, and his thrusts became erratic. The room filled with gasps and moans, the sounds of our joining, then cries of pleasure as he filled me. We rode out our climaxes with gentle, unhurried thrusts, unwilling to let the time go.

“What a way to wake up,” he said some time later as we lay tangled together, the sweat cooling. I couldn’t agree more.