Like his thighs, God his thighs. And when he put his back to her briefly to shuck off his underwear—as though modesty was somehow required, at this point—she couldn’t help ogling the perfect, round peach of his ass.
And he seemed to know it, when he turned back.
“You looking?” he asked, mouth tugging up at one corner.
She wanted to ask him how he possibly thought she could resist. He had a beautiful body—far better than hers. And all of it just came to a head in the middle, with that thick, glorious, amazing cock of his.
The one she couldn’t take her eyes off, even when he almost grinned to see her doing it.
“You want to get under the sheets?” he asked, which immediately turned the syrupy, slow sensuous feeling inside her into something else. Something kind of urgent and giddy, as though they’d both turned into big kids about to do a naughty thing.
Of course, the feeling only remained for the length of time it took him to climb into bed. And then his mouth searched out hers and his hand went without hesitation to her breast, and any sense of strange immaturity went away.
Instead there was just heat, and the heavy feel of him. The brush of his bare skin against hers, too much and then not enough. She pressed closer to him, wanting more, but couldn’t quite believe it when he didn’t pull away. Not even a little bit. Not even for a second, to let her catch her breath.
Though in truth she didn’t really want him to. Breathing seemed like a secondary concern, in the face of this. Something brushed between her legs, briefly—something hard and almost as slick as she felt—and a gasp shoved out of her, but he had it under control.
He slid his hand down between her legs and stroked over all the places she felt far too sensitive, until the gasp became a sob.
“Don’t,” she tried to say, but luckily the word came out as something else instead. It sounded a lot more like yes as his fingertip just ever so slightly circled the clit she couldn’t bear him to actually touch.
“Too much?” he asked, and she wanted to nod. She really did.
It just didn’t seem like an option right now. Most of her body was telling her something else altogether, in a little furtive whisper. Something like ohhhh man, do you think we can actually have another orgasm so quickly after that first one? Is that even possible? I totally want to see if that’s possible.
And though she had no idea why her body suddenly sounded like a surfer dude from the nineties, she was willing to go with it. The pleasure felt too intense this time to not follow it wherever it was going, and besides…
She could tell what he’d started doing, at the same time.
He had a hand on himself as he fondled her. A hand between his legs, stroking and stroking while his mouth searched out the curve of her throat.
It sent her half-mad, to feel it. She simply had to reach down and uncover whatever he was doing, but once she’d done so—once she’d found his fist wrapped tight around his impossibly stiff cock—she couldn’t be held responsible for her actions.
The tip felt really, really slick. And so hot, burning hot. Had it been this hot before? She didn’t think so, but found it almost impossible to remember in the middle of this suddenly frantic and heated haze.
He didn’t just patiently allow her to touch him. He bucked into her hand. He pressed himself fully against her, all of that hair on his body sparking delicious new feelings in her taut nipples and on the insides of her thighs. And when she rubbed her thumb right over that little slit at the tip of his cock, he stopped any pretense at holding back.
“Christ. I’m gonna have to do this before I come all over you.”
She felt him shift a little, before reaching over to his bedside drawers. He did it subtly, of course, and maybe like he wasn’t really going for the condoms. But she knew that was what they were the moment he had the little foil packets in his hand.
She just didn’t know why he was studying them so intently. Or why the sudden pause in proceedings made her impatient enough to chew her own arm off.
“What are you—” she started, but he answered before she could finish.
“Looking for the expiration date.”
She hadn’t even known they had something like that. But at the very least, him searching for one backed up what he’d said earlier. He really didn’t sleep with a lot of girls. He had five-hundred-year-old condoms in his bedside cabinet.
“Okay, we’re good,” he said, though he didn’t sound as relieved as she would have liked. And when he looked at her, his gaze was both heated and tense, all at the same time.
It made her want to reassure him in some way, even as most of her said no, no. Just wait. Just watch. And as it turned out, the latter instinct was the correct one. The sight of him rolling that thing on, shuddering at the feel of his hands on himself…it was better than the look of him naked.