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“You’re so sensitive,” Pieck murmurs, pressing feather light kisses to your lips and your jaw before moving on to your neck.
You can tell her hands are greedy for you, desperate and wanting as they flit over your waist, your hips, your breasts, but somehow she makes it all feel agonizingly slow. She’s always like this — languid in her movements, dragging every touch out until she hears you beg for more.
She pauses at the junction between your neck and shoulder and bites down suddenly. You let out a breathy moan at the action, hardly noticing your own legs spreading slightly to coax her attention down to where you want her. The movement is restricted by her own legs caging yours in, but you know she noticed. She’s always so attentive, attuned to your every little move and whine.
She draws away and continues her path down, kissing between your breasts and along the line of your sternum. You feel rather than see when she gets distracted again, goosebumps raising along your skin as she moves her lips to the right, tracing her tongue across your breast to the faint edge of your areola.
You stutter out another moan and she hums against you before taking your nipple into her mouth, mindful of her teeth as she sucks gently. She hardly lingers long enough to let you enjoy the sensation before drawing away and blowing softly across the surface of your flushed skin, making you shiver.
Pieck pulls back then, lifts her head away from your chest just far enough to gaze down at you. A smile tugs at the corner of her lips as dark eyes rake over her handiwork. “Aren’t you just so pretty?”
Your chest is heaving, like you’d just run a mile and then some, skin too hot and covered with a sheen of sweat. Pieck moves to the side, sucking just beside your nipple and earning a loud and sudden moan. Your hands, tangled loosely in her hair, tug just a little too hard on the dark locks at her scalp. She pulls away with a hiss.
“I’m sorry!” you apologize immediately, lifting your head from the pillow and craning your neck to see if she’s alright. You’re unprepared when she immediately leans in and sucks at the same spot again, leaving another mark that’s sure to bruise right beside the last. You yelp again and pull on her hair once more, not as intense, but still sudden, still wanting.
Pressing fluttering kisses and nipping at whatever she can, Pieck slides a hand down along your torso to the band of your panties. You take a shaking breath and glance down to where her warm palm is pressed flat against your stomach. You keep watching as it travels down, further still, and even though you see it coming when her index and middle fingers move to lazily stroke over your clothed cunt, you can’t stop your hips from jerking slightly.
She says your name then, and it’s like warm honey on her tongue, so impossibly soft and sweet that you wonder if you might’ve dreamt it. She lets the movement of her fingers slow, then stop, and presses hard against where your clit waits for her under the now soaked fabric. It sends another hot pulse through your body, and you whimper low in your throat. “So wet already?”
“Pieck, I—” you choke on another desperate noise when she moves again, dragging her fingertips along the wetness soaking through your panties.
“So wet, all for me,” she hums, pressing her fingers a little harder and catching more of your slick on her fingertips. Half lidded, lust filled eyes capture yours as she pulls her fingers back and sucks them clean. “You have no idea how much I love that.”
Your cheeks darken a shade as you stare back at her helplessly. She starts again slowly, kissing back up your love bite littered chest. She’s taking her time again, but you want to taste her, need to have her lips on yours, and growing impatient you drag her up slightly by her hair to smash your mouth against hers. She hums into you, chiding, and teeth catch your bottom lip to nip at the already swollen skin. Your hips stutter again, with the same desperation you’d had earlier, and after a moment you pull back.
“Pieck, please,” you breathe, eyes hazy and wet as your lover watches you struggle to find your words, looking so indulgent and patient and fond that it makes you ache. “Please, I want….”
She coos sympathetically, like she knows how hard it is to speak with your head swimming like this. A gentle hand comes up to caress your cheek. It’s shockingly cold against your flushed skin, and it holds there as she lowers her face to yours. Her lips just barely brush against your ear when she speaks; it makes you dizzy with arousal. “What do you want, pretty girl? Need you to tell me.”
“Want you to touch me— want— want your fingers inside of me, please,” you say finally, voice breaking near the end.
You squirm beneath her, emphasizing your point, and there’s a smile in her voice when she replies, “Now see, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” She nips at your earlobe playfully before rising, settling into an upright position with her legs still kneeling on either side of your parted thighs. Your hands fall away from her hair to rest on either side of your head.
Pieck is like a vision above you, pale skin flushed pink and lips as swollen and kiss bitten as yours. Her hair spills over both shoulders, disheveled, and something about knowing that it was your hands running through it that made it that way has a satisfied feeling curling in your chest. The dark tresses sparsely cover each perfect breast, and you let your eyes trace them before dipping to admire her well toned abdomen and the soft curve of her hips.
“You’re so good for me, using your words when I ask. I’m so proud of you,” she purrs, ignoring your obvious staring. You can’t help but blush at the words, letting her soft voice wrap around your fuzzy mind like a blanket and feeling warm and floaty just how you always do when she praises you for simple things.
“Thank you,” you mumble, feeling the need to say something even as your cheeks continue to burn. You’re glad you did when her lips curl into a smile.
“Should I give my pretty girl her reward now?” Pieck says, and you don’t know how you missed her hand finding your cunt again, because then she’s curling her finger just slightly, grinding the flat of her index against the hood of your clit. You nod with a whine as her other hand finds the column of your neck and takes it in a gentle, possessive hold.
She repeats the action against your clothed pussy, over and over, and your hips jerk along with her, chasing the delicious friction she’s giving you through the fabric. Another finger is added, and then the movement changes, becoming fast little circular motions against your clit that send your head spinning. You hear yourself cry out in a broken voice when she rubs against it just right, and so she does it again, and again, until you’re a whimpering mess beneath her.
“I know you said you wanted me inside you, honey,” Pieck begins, and with a clearer head you would have liked how low and sultry her voice sounded, or how blown with lust her pupils were as she watched your face for every little reaction, “but do you think you can you come for me like this?”
Your choked off moan was answer enough as you felt Pieck move her fingers again, one on either side of the hood of your clit. Still, you replied with a whimpered, “Uh huh,” and a nod, rocking your hips into her touch in a silent plea.
A satisfied smile appeared on her lips and she bent down, lowering her face again to lave her warm tongue across your nipple, taking it carefully between her teeth as it pebbled before moving to the other. You whimpered at the sight: Pieck with one skilled hand steadily working you into a mess while the other held your throat, her pretty mouth on your tits, all the while looking up at you with lust clouding her dark eyes.
Her pinky finger trailed lower, barely touching you through your panties, but you were hyperaware, oversensitive, and whined even louder at the ghost of a touch.
“You make such pretty noises,” she mumbles against your chest, sucking on the love bites she left behind earlier and making them a little more red and bruised, determined to leave you marked up for days to come. She picks up the speed of her fingers and watches your face as you lose yourself to the pleasure, eyes glazing over and lips parting to form a perfect ‘o’. You buck your hips off of the bed, trying to chase the release that had long since been building up in the pit of your stomach.
“Don’t stop,” you panted, even though you knew she wouldn’t, would never even dream of it, because Pieck was always so good to you. And she didn’t stop, only moaned softly against you, as lost in you as you were in her.
“Fuck — Pieck, fuck I’m —” you gasped, voice dying in your throat as your back arched off the bed with the force of the orgasm tearing through you, hot and sweet and dizzying. Pieck’s fingers didn’t stop, guiding you slowly and gently through your release, until you fell back against the bed and clawed at her wrist, too overwhelmed to form the words and tell her to stop.
Your chest heaved up and down as the aftershocks of your orgasm settled in your muscles. Pieck traced her fingertip along the seam of your panties and you whined again, quieting when she drew away.
“Even more wet than before,” she mused, smiling up at you fondly from where her chin rested against your chest. You tried to smile back, not sure if you quite managed, but her grin broadened and she laughed softly anyways.
You felt her pull your panties to the side, allowing the cool air of the bedroom to hit the slick wetness between your thighs. You hissed at the cold but remained still. Slowly, she dipped two fingers between your labia, pulling back with a small noise of awe when she saw them shining from how wet you were.
Her eyes found yours again as she brought her fingers to her lips, cleaning them again in a way that was reminiscent of earlier. “You’re sweet,” she hummed, enjoying the way you blushed. Then her hand was sliding back down and her fingers were dipping in again, not as gentle this time as they prodded the area around your opening. A whimper builds in your throat but you swallow it, let her continue and watch as she marvels at how wet she’s made you. Then her eyes flick back up to yours, and you notice for the first time how lust still dances in them — how she doesn’t really look satisfied.
She leans forward, kisses the corner of your mouth. You shudder. “I wanna taste you, honey. Can I do that?” Another kiss, then, voice softer, “Can you take it?”
“’M still sensitive,” you mumble, embarrassed, but after a few seconds nod your head.
That was all she needed. Pieck pulled away and slid down, lower, pushing your thighs apart and reveling in how the sticky wetness dripping down from your hole seemed to slide down, dribbling onto the sheets. She settled down against the mattress, arranging herself so that her elbows rested on the bed and her hands curled around the meat of each of your thighs, holding them open for when you inevitably started jerking and trying to close them. She blew a deliberate puff of air against your exposed cunt, just to make you squirm, and you whined.
Then, sooner than you’d anticipated, Pieck was slipping her index finger inside and moaning softly when you clenched around her. Already you were trembling in her grasp, so oversensitive that her touch almost hurt. After another second, she had two fingers inside of you, pumping languidly and curling expertly against your walls while she marveled over how wet you were getting, how delicious you looked.
“I can’t wait any longer,” she said, her sweet voice husky and heavily laden with lust, and then her mouth is on your pussy. She has no trouble at all finding your clit with her tongue, placing kitten licks and sucking gently until you’re keening above her, begging almost incoherently for more.
Your hands find purchase in her hair again and entangle themselves at her scalp. Pieck against you, flicking her tongue across your clit before grinding her two fingers into you again, desperate.
Distantly, you think you hear her asking if you want to come, but at the same time she inserts a third finger and sends you arching off the bed. You nod frantically, lips parting to reply but nothing but helpless little moans coming out. You stumbled your way over her name, clenching around her fingers as you felt her lave her tongue lazily across your clit over and over, sucking and kissing around it, her lips brushing and rubbing against you, and—
“M'gonna — haah, fuck, Pieck,” you managed, words expelled in a rush, and then you were falling back down to the bed with a loud cry. Pieck massaged you through your second orgasm, the taste of you filling her mouth as she kept licking at you.
A whine escaped you when you finally came down from your daze, chest heaving up and down as Pieck continued eating you out, pumping her fingers and focusing her mouth on your clit.
“Too much,” you said, voice hoarse. “Pieck.”
She did stop, finally, mouth and chin shining and wet when she pulled away. She mouthed up your stomach again, along your hip bones and tummy, unable to go any further because of your thighs trapping her where she rested between them. She hardly seemed bothered.
“You know how pretty you are when you come on my tongue?” She brushed her fingers along your labia and you practically sobbed, oversensitive and shaking. She drew back, pressing a soft kiss to the inside of your thigh. “Don’t worry honey, shh. You did so well for me, yeah? We’re done.” Another kiss, and you felt her smile against your skin. “For now.”