Black Girls and Bad Boys: Changing his Tune by Neneh J. Gordon Page A

they’d have to leave was nowhere near enough. He
wanted to spend the whole day like this – exploring her, pleasing her, building
on the closeness they shared.
    Lifting her foot off the bed, he brought it to his lips and kissed
her toe. Then he kissed her instep, her ankle, her calf. He kissed a path up
her leg, the heady scent of her excitement growing stronger all the time. When
he climbed between her legs, her breathing quickened and she chewed on her
bottom lip.
    The slick opening to her core glistened with juice and spurred him
on to what he considered the most intimate act. He spread her outer lips with
his thumbs. She jumped when he touched her there and he pressed harder,
applying enough pressure to make her wriggle.
    Finally, he lowered his mouth to her sex, licking his way through
the coating of natural lubricant and finding her most sensitive spot. She was
hot and wet, more than ready for his touch. He flicked the tip of his tongue
over her clit. She grabbed hold of his wrists, but didn’t pull him away. Then
she began to moan and it made him even harder.
    But this was about her, not him. Moving in ever-widening circles, he
teased her with his mouth, darting over the entrance to her core without ever
quite making it inside.
    He held her down by the hips, fighting her body’s instinct to buck
him off. Her legs quivered on either side of him, her feet slipping over the
bedclothes.
    As her movements grew more frenzied, he plunged his tongue into her
very centre and pinched her clit between finger and thumb. She let out a sound
somewhere between a groan and a scream. He pinched harder, forcing his tongue
as deep as it would go, curling it in search of her g-spot. Then he swapped,
sucking on her clit and sliding two fingers inside her. He tickled her with the
tips of his fingers, finding the bundle of nerve-endings that would take her
over the edge.
    Working on her with his lips, his teeth, his tongue, his hands, he
felt her kick against the mattress. She was close. He could tell by the
abundance of moisture that flowed from between her legs and the way that she
arched her back up off the bed. More than anything, he wanted to watch her
come. He wanted to look into her eyes and know that he was the one who’d taken
her to a place where her mind gave up control and let her body take over.
    For him, the best sex always turned into something primal – two
bodies in direct communication, working on little more than instinct.
    She clutched at his arms, digging her nails into his flesh. He moved
faster, sucked harder. She was almost there. So close he could taste it on her
skin. Her cries grew louder and scissored his fingers inside her. At the same
time, he licked then nibbled, licked then nibbled at her clit. Just before he
sensed she was about to peak, he stopped licking to look up at her face. Her
eyes were screwed tight shut, her lips brought together in a luscious pout.
    He would have loved to look into her eyes, but he didn’t dare speak
to her and risk breaking her concentration. Then she tipped over the edge and
came long and loud. If there were any guests left asleep at that hour, the
sound of Angie’s climax would surely have woken them. 
    He kept on moving his fingers, holding her simmering in sexual need.
Now it was his turn. If he was going to change position, he had to do it soon
or she’d be soaring away on her next orgasm. He moved his hand so that his two
middle fingers were inside her and he could rub on her clit with his thumb. A
little extra pressure had her writhing against him, already back on the path to
satisfaction.
    He groped blindly at the bedside table with his free hand and
eventually came across the little square packet he was looking for. Tearing it
open with his teeth, he had to let go of her to sheathe himself. She reached
for him, turning his face to look at her. Her eyes were open again. She gave
him an exhausted smile and he moved up the bed to kiss her magnificent lips.
    Her