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Page 41
“Take. Off. Your pants.”
He grins and removes his sweater, then undoes the first few buttons of the button-down he’s wearing beneath it, before reaching behind his neck and pulling the shirt off over his head.
“So assertive, Everly.”
I lick my lips and ogle his chest. Damn rowers. He is in every bit as good shape as I imagined. My pussy is throbbing, like a physical ache. I want to cross my legs and squeeze, just for the brief pressure it will provide. I consider it, bending my leg and running the toes of one foot up the calf of the opposite leg. But I stop, and bend my knees open instead, exposing myself to him completely. Come here.
His shoes make a soft thump on the floor as he toes them off and finally, finally his hands move to his pants, my eyes trailing down the light smattering of hair leading south as he pops the button, unzips, then stops. Why is he stopping?
He drops his forearms to the bed between my spread legs, his intent clear. I slap an open palm on the bedding and mutter, “Goddammit, Sawyer!” as he kisses the spot right above my clit.
He pauses and looks up at me with a smirk, which should be insulting considering where his face is, but I’ve got more pressing concerns. Namely that I need something larger than a tongue right now.
“Problem?” he asks, eyebrow raised.
He’s fucking with me. He knows what I want.
“I don’t want that.” I stumble over my words because he’s just flattened his tongue and run it over the length of me. Thank fuck I kept that waxing appointment yesterday.
“No?”
“I want you in me.” It’s getting harder to talk, because he’s good with his tongue. “I want you on top of me.”
“Oh, I love the dirty talk, Boots. Go on.”
His tongue is flicking my clit and I arch my back over the bed. I’m totally going to come like this, but it’s not what I really want right now.
“I want your cock inside of me, Sawyer. I want you to sink it into me, with my legs stretched wide and all of your weight on top of me. And then I want to feel you move. I wanna feel you sliding out of me and then slamming back inside. That’s what I want.”
He flattens his tongue and sweeps it across my clit while inserting one thick finger inside of me and dragging it in the perfect come-hither movement. I come, thrashing my head on the bed and screaming his name.
I’m panting when he stands, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Jesus fuck. That move right there has another flood dampening my already wet pussy. He drops his pants and kneels on the bed, leaning over me to snag a condom from the bedside table. Propping myself up on one elbow, I wrap a hand around the length of him, running it up and down. I could weep with joy. It’s a nice dick. Hard. Thick. Long. Did I mention hard?
I flick my eyes up to find him watching me examine his dick, which is hot, so I hold his gaze and twist my wrist, gliding my hand back and forth. He’s thick, my fingertips barely touching. I’ve given enough handjobs, and I can usually rest the pad of my thumb on the nails of my fingertips as I stroke, but there’s no overlapping here. I swallow, not breaking eye contact with him. The stretch I’m going to feel with him inside of me will be incredible.
I drop my eyes back to his cock in time to watch pre-cum escape the tip and I move my hand up to rub my thumb through it, then use the moisture to massage the head of his dick before dragging the tips of my fingers and thumb together over the head of his cock.
“You like that?” I ask.
A grunt escapes his lips, followed by a notable increase in his breathing.
“How about your balls?” I whisper, dropping my hand to cup his sac, then use my nails with the barest hint of pressure.
He grins and removes his sweater, then undoes the first few buttons of the button-down he’s wearing beneath it, before reaching behind his neck and pulling the shirt off over his head.
“So assertive, Everly.”
I lick my lips and ogle his chest. Damn rowers. He is in every bit as good shape as I imagined. My pussy is throbbing, like a physical ache. I want to cross my legs and squeeze, just for the brief pressure it will provide. I consider it, bending my leg and running the toes of one foot up the calf of the opposite leg. But I stop, and bend my knees open instead, exposing myself to him completely. Come here.
His shoes make a soft thump on the floor as he toes them off and finally, finally his hands move to his pants, my eyes trailing down the light smattering of hair leading south as he pops the button, unzips, then stops. Why is he stopping?
He drops his forearms to the bed between my spread legs, his intent clear. I slap an open palm on the bedding and mutter, “Goddammit, Sawyer!” as he kisses the spot right above my clit.
He pauses and looks up at me with a smirk, which should be insulting considering where his face is, but I’ve got more pressing concerns. Namely that I need something larger than a tongue right now.
“Problem?” he asks, eyebrow raised.
He’s fucking with me. He knows what I want.
“I don’t want that.” I stumble over my words because he’s just flattened his tongue and run it over the length of me. Thank fuck I kept that waxing appointment yesterday.
“No?”
“I want you in me.” It’s getting harder to talk, because he’s good with his tongue. “I want you on top of me.”
“Oh, I love the dirty talk, Boots. Go on.”
His tongue is flicking my clit and I arch my back over the bed. I’m totally going to come like this, but it’s not what I really want right now.
“I want your cock inside of me, Sawyer. I want you to sink it into me, with my legs stretched wide and all of your weight on top of me. And then I want to feel you move. I wanna feel you sliding out of me and then slamming back inside. That’s what I want.”
He flattens his tongue and sweeps it across my clit while inserting one thick finger inside of me and dragging it in the perfect come-hither movement. I come, thrashing my head on the bed and screaming his name.
I’m panting when he stands, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Jesus fuck. That move right there has another flood dampening my already wet pussy. He drops his pants and kneels on the bed, leaning over me to snag a condom from the bedside table. Propping myself up on one elbow, I wrap a hand around the length of him, running it up and down. I could weep with joy. It’s a nice dick. Hard. Thick. Long. Did I mention hard?
I flick my eyes up to find him watching me examine his dick, which is hot, so I hold his gaze and twist my wrist, gliding my hand back and forth. He’s thick, my fingertips barely touching. I’ve given enough handjobs, and I can usually rest the pad of my thumb on the nails of my fingertips as I stroke, but there’s no overlapping here. I swallow, not breaking eye contact with him. The stretch I’m going to feel with him inside of me will be incredible.
I drop my eyes back to his cock in time to watch pre-cum escape the tip and I move my hand up to rub my thumb through it, then use the moisture to massage the head of his dick before dragging the tips of my fingers and thumb together over the head of his cock.
“You like that?” I ask.
A grunt escapes his lips, followed by a notable increase in his breathing.
“How about your balls?” I whisper, dropping my hand to cup his sac, then use my nails with the barest hint of pressure.
