Lust Meter System: Conquering Beauties

The kiss didn’t end quickly.

It went on the way kisses went on when both people had stopped thinking about anything else, her hand still flat on his chest and his hand still at her jaw, the lake in front of them and the afternoon light moving across everything and none of it mattering in the slightest.

When they finally separated she stayed close, her forehead almost touching his, her eyes finding his from that distance.

He moved first.

His mouth went to her jaw, just below where his hand had been, and he felt her exhale slowly against the side of his face as he worked his way down the line of it. She turned her head slightly to give him better access without being asked, the way she always did things, deciding on them before they were requested.

His mouth found her neck.

"Mm," she said, quietly, her hand pressing slightly harder against his chest.

He kept going, his lips moving along the side of her neck, tasting the warmth of her skin where the sun had been sitting on it all afternoon, the faint salt of it, the specific warmth that came from hours in the open air. His hands moved to her waist, spreading across the bare skin between the bikini top and the bottoms, feeling the smoothness of her stomach under his palms.

She shifted in the chair, turning more fully toward him, and her hands moved from his chest to his shoulders, her fingers pressing in.

He moved his mouth from her neck to her collarbone, across it, and then down toward the top of her chest, his lips finding the skin above the bikini top and moving slowly along the line of it.

"Liam," she said, her voice carrying the specific quality it had when she was using his name to acknowledge something rather than say something.

He worked back upward, across her collarbone and up her neck and then found her mouth again and kissed her properly, his hands still on her waist, her hands on his shoulders, both of them turned toward each other in the outdoor chairs with the lake sitting completely indifferent in front of them.

She pulled back from the kiss and moved her mouth to his jaw, returning what he had done, her lips pressing along the line of it and then down the side of his neck, her hands sliding from his shoulders to his chest and then down across his stomach.

"Haa," he said softly, the sound arriving before he decided on it.

Her mouth moved back up and found his ear and she did something there that made his hands tighten on her waist and his jaw go slightly tight.

He moved his mouth back to hers and kissed her deeper this time, one hand moving from her waist upward, finding the side of her chest, his thumb moving along the edge of the bikini top.

She made a sound into the kiss that had warmth in it.

His other hand moved to the back of her neck, holding her into the kiss, and she pressed into it the way she always pressed into it, not because she needed the pressure but because she wanted it.

They stayed like that for a while, mouths and hands and the afternoon light and the sound of the lake below the balcony, neither of them in any particular hurry to be anywhere else.

Then he moved his mouth to her chest, his lips finding the top of her boobs above the bikini fabric and pressing there, warm and deliberate.

"Mm," she said. Her hands moved to the back of his head.

He worked slowly, his mouth moving across the top of her chest, the skin warm and soft and faintly sun-kissed, taking his time with every part of it, her hands in his hair pressing lightly with each specific thing he did.

Then he looked up at her.

"Come here," he said.

She looked at him. "Not out here," she said.

He looked at the lake. At the trees on the far bank. At the complete absence of anyone anywhere near them. He looked back at her.

"Fair enough," he said.

He reached under her, both arms finding her, one under her knees and one at her back, and he lifted her out of the chair in one clean movement.

"Liam," she said, her arms going around his neck immediately, her body adjusting to being carried. Not with alarm. More with the resigned amusement of someone who had expected him to do something like this.

He carried her through the glass door and back into the lake house, through the main room, down the corridor, and into the bedroom at the end of it.

The room was cooler than the balcony, the afternoon light coming through the curtains in long warm strips across the floor.

The bed was wide and dressed in white linen, the window beside it showing the lake through the gap in the curtain.

He set her down on the edge of the bed.

She looked up at him from where she was sitting and then looked down briefly and then back up at his face with an expression that had made a decision.

She reached for him.

She worked slowly, her hands finding him, and then she took him in her mouth and started with the patience and the specific focus she brought to everything she did when she had decided to do it properly.

"Hmm," he said, his hand going to the back of her head.

She moved steadily, her head rising and falling in a rhythm she had chosen and was not deviating from, her tongue pressing flat on each downstroke and then doing something specific at the top of each upstroke that made his jaw tighten every single time without exception.

"Mm," she said, the sound muffled and low and entirely deliberate.

His hand pressed slightly in her hair.

She went deeper.

The sound that came from her on the deeper stroke was different from the previous ones, fuller, more present, sitting in the bedroom around them.

She kept the rhythm going, building it gradually, not rushing toward anything, just staying in it and letting it accumulate the way she let most things accumulate, with patience and with the quiet confidence of someone who knew exactly what they were doing.

"Elena," he said.

She didn’t stop.

She found the pace that made his hand tighten and she stayed on it, consistent and unhurried, her sounds coming continuously now, low and muffled and warm, filling the space between the bed and the ceiling.

He let it go on for a long time.

Then he reached down and took her by the shoulders gently and lifted her up toward him and she came willingly, rising off the floor and onto the bed, and he was over her and she was looking up at him and the curtain moved in a breath of air from the window and the lake was visible behind it in the gap, flat and blue and entirely unaware of any of this.

He reached behind her and found the ties of the bikini top.

She lifted her arms slightly to help him and it came loose and he set it aside and looked at her.

Her boobs sat full and pale in the bedroom light, the skin of them soft and warm, her nipples pink and already hard from everything that had been building since the balcony. He ran his hands across them slowly, feeling the weight of them in his palms, his thumbs moving in slow circles.

"Mm," she said, her eyes closing briefly.

He lowered his mouth to one of them and her hand went to the back of his head immediately, her fingers pressing in, her back arching slightly off the linen.

"Haaa," she said.

He kept going, his mouth moving between them, his hands working, her sounds coming continuously now with the specific quality they had when she had stopped managing any of it.

His hand moved down her stomach, across the waistband of the bikini bottoms, and he pulled them down and she helped him, lifting her hips, and then they were gone too and she was entirely there in the afternoon light with his hands on her and the lake outside the window.

He worked back up to her mouth and kissed her and she kissed him back hard, her hands finding him, and they moved together on the wide white bed, the afternoon sitting warmly around the room and the lake outside doing what it always did.

He moved his mouth back down her neck, across her collarbone, down her chest, and kept going, further down, and she made a sound that had his name somewhere inside it but not clearly enough to be a word.

"Haaa," she said. "Oh. Haaa."

Her hands were in his hair and her back was arching and the linen was bunching slightly where she was gripping it with one hand and gripping him with the other and none of it was managed or arranged or composed.

Just her, in the room, in the afternoon.

He kept going.

Her sounds built with the continuity of something that had found its direction and was moving steadily along it, each one slightly more present than the one before, her hands pressing harder in his hair, her whole body orienting toward what his mouth was doing.

"Mm," she said. "Oh. Liam. Haaaa."

He felt her getting close and kept his pace exactly where it was, not changing anything, letting it build at the rate it had chosen for itself.

Then he stopped.

She made a sound that had frustration clearly at the center of it.

He moved back up her body and looked at her face, her lips parted, her eyes carrying everything she was feeling without any of the composure that usually lived there.

He positioned himself.

And then they were there, together, the window showing the lake, the afternoon light moving slowly across the floor, the room warm and quiet around them, and neither of them was thinking about the arena or Stiles or anything outside this room at all.

He started moving.

Slow at first, long and deliberate, feeling every part of it, her hands finding his back and pressing flat against it, her legs wrapping around him, pulling him closer.

"Haa," she said. "Oh god. Haa."

The pace built naturally, the way it always built, both of them finding the rhythm together and settling into it, the sounds of the room filling with them, warm and continuous.

"Mm," she said. "Oh. Haaa. Right there."

He stayed right there and the afternoon kept moving outside the window and the lake kept sitting flat and blue and entirely patient below the balcony and the room held everything they brought into it without complaint.

He reached behind her and shifted her slightly, changing the angle, and she made a sound that arrived before she could decide about it, sharp and immediate and entirely honest.

"Haaa," she said. "Oh. Oh that’s."

She didn’t finish the sentence.

She didn’t need to.

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