Page 74 of Hannah.
“Don’t stop,” I gasp, “Your tongue. On my clit. Just...keep doing that. Until I––oh God.”
Johan seals his mouth over my clit, his tongue flattening against it, and then he sucks, the sound obscene and lewd. Pleasure courses through me like a tide, and I’m trembling, chasing it. Johan's hand snakes between my thighs, and he pushes a finger inside of me. The sensation is different than last night—there’s no hesitation. He knows I’m open and ready for him. After adding a second digit, he crooks his fingers, and athrum of pleasure, impossibly deep and powerful, rolls through me.
“Fuck, Hannah,” he growls, and the vibration of his voice is what pushes me over the edge. Both of my hands bury themselves in his hair, thighs desperate to snap closed but held apart by Johan's big body between them. I ride his face, his mouth, his fingers, wave after wave crashing through me, and I’m screaming, crying out as pleasure overwhelms all of my senses.
“Johan,” I sob. “Oh, Johan. Yes. Just like that, please, please?—”
He hums his approval and fucks me with his fingers, tongue flicking across my clit in a relentless rhythm. Finally, the orgasm fades, and I collapse onto the bed. My muscles feel like they're made of jelly. Johan presses a gentle kiss on my inner thigh and then sits up, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.
“Incredible,” he breathes out, looking down at me. My breasts are exposed, and my nightshirt is still rolled down. Johan is visibly hard in his gray sweatpants, and my eyes drift down to the bulge, unable to look away.
“I want to see you,” I tell him, pushing myself up on my elbows.
Johan palms himself unabashedly through the fabric, the outline of his cock making my mouth go dry. He hesitates, licking his lips as his eyes rake over my body, and with a muttered curse, he pushes the sweatpants down until they're bunched just below his thighs.
His cock jumps free, and Johan wraps a hand around it, stroking it slowly, base to tip. It’s long and thick, darker at the head, and my whole body pulses with desire when I see a bead of pre-come forming.
“Can I…” I trail off, crawling towards him, entranced. “Can I touch you?”
Johan groans and nods, and I scoot a little closer until my knees are bracketing his thighs. His cock juts proudly between us, and I reach forward, wrapping my hand around him. Johan’s dick is hot and heavy and silky smooth in my hand, and a thrill shoots through me. I’ve never done this before.
I glance up at him, his expression so full of lust it makes me quiver.
“How does it feel?” I ask quietly, “I want to make it good for you.”
“Everything you do is good,” Johan grits out, and I’ve never heard his voice so deep. “Just please fucking touch me, Hannah. Let me show you.”
Heat floods me, and I lick my palm, gripping his cock again. Johan folds his hand over mine, slowly, slowly stroking himself with my hand, showing me exactly how he likes it. I imagine him doing this alone, thrusting into his own fist, my name on his lips, and I’m wet all over again.
But this is for him, not me, even if I’m enjoying it a ridiculous amount.
Johan's hips stutter, and his head lolls back, eyes squeezed closed. “Hannah, yes. Just like that. Fuck.”
It’s incredible watching him come undone, knowing it's because of me. Johan lets go, and I pick up the pace, pumping his cock. It swells and gets even harder in my hand, and I know he’s close. His hands are braced on the mattress behind him, and he’s moaning, grunting with every twist of my wrist.
“Tell me,” I demand, “Tell me what you want.”
Johan’s eyes fly open and he looks at me, eyes burning. He grabs my hand and stops it. “I want to come, Hannah, and if you keep touching me, that's exactly what's going to happen.”
“I want you to,” I’m babbling now, stroking him once more while I’m shifting my hips back and forth to try and get some relief for my aching pussy. “Will you come for me?”
Johan curses softly, his head falling forward. His hands go to my hips, and he pulls me into his lap so that I’m straddling him, his cock resting against my belly. I can feel the heat of it, and my nipples are hard in the cool air of the room.
“Let me fuck your hand,” Johan grunts and his hands are on me, guiding me until I’ve got my fist wrapped around his length again, and he’s thrusting, the underside of his dick sliding against my stomach. “Yes,” he groans, “just like that.”
Then his mouth is on mine, and Johan's tongue is fucking into my mouth the same way his hips are thrusting into my palm. A minute later, he comes, spilling hot and wet over my fist and our stomachs, his body shaking, a deep, tortured groan ripped from his throat.
“Fuck,” he says with a gasp, forehead pressed against mine, eyes half-lidded.
I’m panting, still straddling him, his rapidly softening cock resting against my skin. I’m thunderstruck. This is all intoxicating. I never want to leave this bed.
But of course, Johan, ever practical, has other ideas.
“Let's shower,” he tells me, nipping the shell of my ear. “I’ve made a mess of us both. Then we'll get some late breakfast.”
“And come back to bed?” I urge, and he laughs.
“Tonight, darling. Tonight, I’m going to make love to you properly.”