Beneath The Skin(55)
“They are into each other,” I agree, staring at him instead of the wall.
“Can’t even look away,” he murmurs thoughtfully.
“Hypnotized.”
“They don’t even care that all their … love … is running down their mouths like that, all slobbery and stuff. They’re wet in each other’s unapologetic affection. It’s gross to an outsider, but …”
“Totally gross,” I agree, my eyes trailing down his body.
“I wish I could feel something like they feel … with that much abandon.”
He turns to me now, and when he finds my eyes glued to him, he appears genuinely startled. He lifts his eyebrows, observing me cautiously. Then, with the care of someone handling the most fragile piece of glass, he reaches and slowly draws a strand of my hair behind my ear.
“You do somethin’ with your hair?” he asks.
“Not really.”
Half a crooked smile appears on his face. “You look pretty tonight, Penelope.”
A part of me cringes inside at hearing my full name uttered by his soft voice. Another part of me melts. I think it’s my panties.
“I like your shirt,” I return.
“I feel a bit underdressed.”
“I’ve seen you even more underdressed.”
His crooked smile grows. “More like, undressed.”
The couple on the wall keep kissing each other at our sides. Their lips suck and twist and gently consume one another. Their love spills in steady streams from between their mouths.
He takes a step toward me. “Do ‘just friends’ get undressed in front of each other?”
“Brant …” I warn him.
“Because if I’m being totally honest here, I really want to kiss you right now.”
My heart jumps. “It would be a terrible idea.”
“I’m really happy to see you again.”
His hands slip around the small of my back. My fingers clutch the base of his shirt at the hips instinctively. Judging from the firmness I feel in his swelling pants as our bodies press together, I can tell just how “happy” he is to see me, indeed.
“Still a terrible idea,” I whisper.
“The worst,” he agrees.
His lips rush toward mine, hesitating only for a moment before our mouths collide.
Our lips battle with one another, wrestling for dominance as our hands grip each other’s clothes tightly. His cock flexes firmly through his jeans. He groans eagerly as I pull him against me, as if we can somehow get our bodies any closer than they already are.
My heart races so fast, I feel out of breath. My hands learn every contour of his lower back and quickly discover how perfect his ass really is as my fingers trace his firm cheeks, then grab hold of them, pulling him into me.
Oh my god, I’ve needed this.
He groans into me as he gently bites my lip, and I feel every inch of his cock pushing against my leg. He lets go of my lip just to say, “Fuck, what you’re doing to me, Nell …”
What I’m doing to him? I haven’t even begun.
I slide my hand down his body, my fingers hopping on every bump of muscle, down his firm, cascading abs, until they arrive at his jeans. My fingers cup around his quickly swelling cock through the material.
“P-Penel …” he moans into my mouth.
“Got you,” I whisper back.
My hand massages him down below, leaving his jaw in a helpless, hanging state and his eyes closed with dreams of what I’m about to do to him. I give him one stroke up and down the outside of his jeans. Then another.
He holds his breath, his forehead wrinkling in agony.
Right where I want him.
I bring both hands to the waist of his jeans and give them one swift tug, and with as loose and low-hanging as they are, they drop without him even having to undo them.
He’s hard in his boxer briefs, his cock pushing against the material and grazing my thigh. I touch the tent he’s made of his underwear, which seems to stiffen him even more as his cock flexes and throbs. Pulling the waistband down, his cock pops out of his boxers, and when my hand wraps around the flesh, I earn myself a sigh of delight from Brant Rudawski.
“P-Penel … Pen … N-Nell …” he tries to say.
And then I stroke, slowly yet firmly, and all the words he might’ve said turn into a melody of grunts and elongated vowels.
It isn’t long before I feel his cock flexing with the impending threat of an orgasm. Jerking him with vigor, I aim his cock at the screen, my animal eyes leveling up with his. He gapes at me, eyes flashing open as he gasps in beautiful agony, reaching the edge in an instant.
When his jagged breaths turn vocal, his cock dances, and streams of his white cum shoot across the space, dressing the wall where the couple in the video continue to slobber over one another, only now, somehow, they’ve acquired handcuffs and are cuffed to each other, much like how my hand is cuffed to Brant’s wet and slippery cock, figuratively speaking.