The fact that he was still fully dressed didn’t help matters.
“Oh, I’m…uh…doing great,” he said, which was amusing for a lot of reasons. The little brisk nod he did, for one. And the tone of his voice—so breathless and half-amused.
It made her want to hug him, even if other pressing matters needed resolving first.
“Well, you definitely look awesome.”
“Maybe I should—”
“If you tell me you need to visit the bathroom, I might have to kill you.”
He blew out a breath, as amused as his stumbling words. “Yeah, I think we’re probably past that.”
“I think you’re right. I mean, I am completely naked. And also—you just did that thing to me. You know. With your mouth.”
Even with her silly, too-cautious way of putting it, his eyes drifted closed. As though he could see it somewhere behind those lids, and feel it all over again. Feel her all over again.
“Did you like it?” he asked, but she didn’t think he really doubted the answer. A fool could have seen she liked it. She was still liking it as he spoke, limbs so lax it felt as though they might run off the bed at any moment.
“More than anything I’ve ever experienced.” She paused, when his breath caught in his throat. Considered, for a second, before continuing. “You liked it too, huh?”
She saw him glance down at the still-flushed and river-wet place between her legs. One hand suddenly between his legs, pushing and pushing down on that thick shape. Of course, after he’d done it he didn’t seem capable of answering with words, but she couldn’t blame him. She felt as strung out as he looked, thirty seconds after the biggest orgasm of her life. All she had to do was look at him—at his heavy-lidded eyes and his vaguely trembling body and that hand, seemingly unable to move away from his cock—and an answering echo of pleasure went through her sex.
But it wasn’t enough anymore, to just see him like that. She wanted the other stuff, the things she’d imagined but couldn’t quite see clearly. The things he obviously wanted to do, if she ever managed to get him to admit it.
Though of course the problem was—how? What words did people say, to push each other into that final act of abandonment? Go on sounded weak even to her ears, whereas something ruder, like say let me suck your cock just seemed too much. He’d definitely make a run for it, if she went with the latter.
Even if it kind of looked the way he’d said—things were past that point. He had a hand on himself and he wasn’t stopping that slow, firm rub, and though the urge to cover up was in her she couldn’t quite make herself do it.
It just felt too good to have him gaze at her like that as he stroked himself. She could see him following most of the curves and lines of her body, expression so heated and heavy it almost felt like a hand sliding over her skin. And the more he took in the worse it got, until he couldn’t seem to stop himself.
That hand sped up, on the prominent ridge beneath his jeans. His head went back, as though whatever he was feeling verged on just a little too much. And even better—for just the barest second he let his guard down.
Long enough for her to lean forward and get her hand over all the places he wasn’t touching.
She just couldn’t help herself. The whole thing was too exciting, too enticing, and if he was going to do something like leave an opening, what more could he really expect? She’d been denied too long, and now simply had to feel the thing she’d only imagined, prior.
Of course his attention snapped back the moment she did.
“Evie,” he said, only this time it wasn’t a warning. Her name sounded shaky, as heated as his gaze, and though he seemed to want to stop her, he didn’t. He just watched as she uncovered the shape of him beneath his clothes. Held perfectly still, as though she might move away if startled.
Though she knew nothing on earth could have pushed her away at that point. He felt too hot beneath the material, and every stroke of her hand brought new and interesting discoveries. The shape of him—curving upward, then ending in a thick ridge she could make out clearly. And the feel too…God. So much harder than she’d imagined. So much thicker and full of life somehow, as though before this she’d thought of men’s parts as something cool and inanimate.
He was so very far from that. For a start, one light rub over the obviously swollen head of his cock made him moan. Actually moan, really loudly and obviously. It filled up her ridiculous pink bedroom, as rough as fuck and twice as arousing, until she couldn’t resist doing it again.
He wasn’t even trying to stop her. The hand he’d had on himself now rested awkwardly some place high up on his thigh, and though he occasionally murmured a word or two, they weren’t refusals.