I lick my bottom lip. Watch his mouth turn into a deeper frown as he follows my tongue. Holding back. Energy and anger and heat, waiting to explode. I want to see it. See him unravel. Let loose all those feelings. Combust.
So… I light a match.
“Make me.”
I race up the stairs before he can comprehend. Then he’s after me, and he’s so big, so fast, I think he’ll catch me, but he stumbles over his own two feet, hand grasping for my ankle. He doesn’t let that stop him, though, and when I dash into my bedroom, he’s right behind me. Whacking the door close and swinging me against it.
Breathless, chests heaving with exertion and excitement, there’s a beat. Then he rips the shirt from my waistband. Off my torso. Away from the arms stretched over my head to make it easier for him.
His mouth claims mine. Hands dive under my pajamas, my panties, palms and fingers gripping my butt. Hard. Frantic. Urgent. Squeezing and molding and bringing my hips flush with his. I unclasp my bra, throw it on the floor, my mouth never leaving his as our tongues slide together. Sighing, I wrap my arms around his neck and pull myself tighter against him. The way our chests meet, his hard to my soft, his chest hair rasping my nipples—I moan. And then his hands are on my breasts, pinching the tips between his thumbs and forefingers.
“Spencer,” I gasp when he takes one in his mouth. Then he kisses me once more, finger rubbing over that slippery peak.
I want more of him. My hands clutch at his belt, shake when I unbutton his jeans and draw the zipper down. I slide one hand in and oh my god—
Boxers or briefs. Neither, he’d said. Nothing. Nothing separating him from me. From wrapping my fingers around that thick length, already so warm and rigid and twitching in my grip.
Spencer stops kissing me, lifts his head. Enough so he can look down. I follow his gaze, and we watch, together, as my hand languidly pumps him.
“At least your hands are warm this time,” he mutters.
“Do you want me to stop? Because I’ll stop,” I warn him, loosening my grip.
He jerks his hips forward, thrusting his length into my palm. Gives me a warning look of his own. “Don’t fucking stop.”
I don’t.
“Say it again,” he whispers to me, keeping his feverish eyes on each stroke.
“Your name?” He shakes his head. I run my palm over his head, and he draws in a sharp breath. “Or… cock.”
He likes that. Eyes squeezing shut and head tilting back. And then he groans.
Like that night at The Six-Pack. Only better, because it’s not muffled through a door. It’s deep, guttural, clear. And it’s because of me.
“You know… I’ve won every school spelling bee since I was eight years old.”
Spencer opens his eyes, giving me a questioning look through a cloud of lust. “Big surprise, princess.”
“Whenever I wasn’t sure of a word, I’d ask for it to be used in a sentence.” I continue my exploration of his desire. The corner of my mouth curls in a teasing smile. “I’m not too familiar with that word. Cock. Tell me how you’d use it. You look like someone who knows how to use a cock.”
Laughter rumbles from his throat. I kiss the pulse in his neck, savoring the vibration of that rare sound.
He pretends to ponder my request, and then his hand covers mine on his erection. “This past week, I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve touched my cock like this, thinking about you. How red your face got when my fingers were inside you.”
I stop moving my hand, since he guides both of ours in tandem. When we reach the tip, he circles his thumb over his head, then places the pad of it on my bottom lip. Pressing until I allow him to slide it in, coating my tongue with the salty taste of his pre-cum. Lightly, I suck, Spencer’s intent stare all the confirmation I need to know it’s exactly what he wanted me to do.
“I could put my cock here,” he whispers, pushing his thumb, slowly, in and out of my mouth. “Watch you lick every inch of it and take it deep, to the back of your throat.” He crowds me, leaning close to kiss the sensitive crook of my neck. In my ear, he whispers, “I’ve thought about that a lot. You, on your knees. Sucking my cock. My hands in your hair.”
He does that now. Sinks both hands into auburn strands and devours my mouth again. I moan, thinking about it. His words. Imagining what it would be like to carry them out. I’d never cared much for blowjobs with Ashton. While the act had always seemed lewd and perverse and devastatingly arousing on paper, in practice, it’d been a let down. Probably because with my ex, it had been give and take. As in, I give. He takes. It had all been for him.
But Spencer… I have a feeling it wouldn’t be like that. It’d be give and keep giving, because Spencer, surely, would reciprocate. A hundred times over, he’d give back.
I moan into his mouth, close to making the decision, to sinking to the carpet before him, when Spencer bends down first. He divests me of the rest of my clothes. I balance myself on his shoulders, and then squeal in surprise when he grabs me around the middle and lifts me over one.
Then we’re on the bed, Spencer on top of me. His hand cups between my legs, a finger entering me. The thumb that had been in my mouth circles my clit. He returns to my breasts, kissing them as I wriggle beneath him.
“But that can wait,” Spencer says. “This is where you want me, isn’t it?” He urges his finger deeper, and I moan in agreement. “Me, too. That’s where I’ll put my cock. Inside this pussy. I’m going to fuck
