Tear You Apart by Megan Hart Page A

the swipe of his tongue. The urge to kiss him is like some hungry, furious thing, and it’s eating me alive.
    A clatter of schoolchildren tumbles into the room, all of them loud and laughing. Pushing and shoving. Will straightens and lets go of my hand. We move deliberately apart, still standing so close I can still feel the heat of his shoulder on mine.
    Saying nothing, we leave the room. We leave the museum. We get in a cab and sit without speaking as the tension between us rises and twists, coiling tighter. We ride the elevator to his apartment with hardly a glance between us. Barely a word. And when we get in the door, I push him in front of me, against the wall, hard enough to rattle the pictures in their frames. I kick the front door closed.
    Then I get on my knees while my hands, sure-fingered and without fumbling, yank open his belt. The button and zipper. His straining cock pushes at the front of his briefs and he’s in my fist before he even has a chance to make a sound.
    I use one knee to nudge his legs farther apart as I pull his jeans down to his thighs. His briefs, too. He’s mostly naked for me in half a minute. That beautiful cock pulses against my palm as I skim my hand upward, barely brushing the head. Will’s hips push forward, and I grip his shaft, keeping him in place. He looks down at me, his gaze dark.
    I don’t say a word, but he puts his palms flat against the wall on either side of him. Looking up at him, our eyes locked, I open my mouth, let my hot breath seep out over his hotter flesh. He shivers. I brush his prick against my cheek, soft, so soft, the tip of it not quite close enough to press inside my lips. Down a little lower, I breathe against him as my hand works his cock.
    I mouth his inner thigh, tasting salt. His skin is pale here, dusted with fine hairs lighter than the coarser hair between his legs. I nuzzle him. I press my teeth to his flesh, nipping hard enough to make him cry out. And still his hands don’t move from their place on the wall.
    When I run my tongue along the underside of his cock, stopping just before I reach the tiny divot at that head, Will lets out a long, tortured groan. His eyes are closed, his head bent so that his hair falls over his forehead. He shakes again when I let him feel my teeth against him, and when I move my hand up and down, then up a little higher to graze his cockhead. But when his hips pump again, I go still.
    Small, quick and flicking flutters of my tongue tease him. My hand moves. Again, I slide my tongue up his cock from the base to just below the head, then up a little higher to let the wet, hot cavern of my mouth hover over the tip. Slick fluid gathers there, leaking. Again, I go still.
    Will shudders. His eyes open, looking down at me looking up. He licks his lips and blinks. I do nothing.
    “Please,” he says at last. “Please...”
    At last I engulf him, take him down the back of my throat. I taste him, slippery and a little sweeter than I expected. Greedy, I suck him hard, concentrating on the head while my hand, slick with my saliva, strokes his shaft. My other hand slips between my legs, rubbing and rubbing at my clit through my lace panties. I am wet. I am dripping for him. In fact, my cunt is already clenching when he at last slides his fingers into the back of my hair and anchors them there, pulling just hard enough to make me gasp.
    I fuck him with my mouth and tongue, my teeth. My clit is so swollen I don’t need to dip inside my panties. Even this indirect pressure is almost too much. I’m coming in long, rippling waves.
    And...there are colors.
    I taste and smell voices; certain words have color. My brain is wired to connect my senses in a way that most people can’t begin to understand, but until now I’ve never had it happen during orgasm. The pleasure washes over me in shimmering bands of rainbow light and golden stars, and I’m filled not only with the ecstasy of climax but with the wonder of this new