drowning in tequila,” he mutters, and I’m not sure he’s joking. “Didn’t work out so well.”
“Miss your friend, huh?”
“Damn right. I’m worried about him.” He drags me close, then starts undressing me. “Missed you, too.”
“You can’t,” I whisper.
“Can’t what?”
“Say things like that to me.”
“Why not?” His hands still on the zipper of my dress.
“Because of your promise. Because there can never be anything real between us.”
He gives a dry laugh. “What’s more real than sex?”
“You know what I mean.”
He says nothing after that, his grin frozen in place, kind of manic. His hands are moving, though, taking off my dress, cupping my boobs, stroking down my flanks. His mouth finds my mouth, and he pushes me back against the tiled wall of the bathroom, kissing me hard.
He lifts my hand with the bracelet on, drags the metal against his cheek. His lashes are lowered, hiding his eyes. “You make me feel good. Like everything’s fine in the world.”
“Then why can’t you be with me?” I ask, before I can stop the words. “Is it because of what you said? Danger?”
Stop, stupid mouth! I barely know him—except for his awesome body, that is. I don’t really want to be his girlfriend.
Do I?
“Forget about that,” he mutters.
“But I—”
“I needed to see you.” A crease forms between his brows as he releases my hand and takes a step back. He pushes his hair out of his eyes. Such a boyish gesture. He looks so young like this.
I keep forgetting he’s barely older than myself. And tonight he looks oddly lost in thought. Lost inside his own head.
Drawing a deep breath, inhaling his scent, I put my hands on his jacket and push it off his shoulders. He blinks, as if caught off guard, and lets me peel the jacket off him, then his T-shirt. His chest rises and falls sharply when I skim his pecs and broad ribcage, then undo his jeans and push them down, too.
Then groans when I go to my knees to take off his biker boots, socks and pants, leaving him naked.
When I stand back up, he puts his hands possessively on my ass and mashes my body to his, grinding his stirring hard-on between us. He’s kissing me again, and doesn’t stop as he tugs me toward the tub.
I toe off my shoes and he breaks the kiss to help me inside the warm water. The tub is half-full by now and when he climbs inside and pulls me down, on top of him, that’s more than enough.
“I want you,” he whispers and squeezes my boobs in his big hands, then bends forward to lick my nipples. “Couldn’t think of much less during my trip. Fuck…”
He leans back when I put my hand between us and tug on the piercing, then curl my fingers around his thick cock, eyes closing. He’s so hard, it feels like he’s close to coming.
I know his body. I can feel his approaching orgasm in the way his legs shake underneath me, the way his balls are drawn up tight.
Lifting up, I guide him inside me—because I missed him, too, and I want him desperately.
He arches up when I sink on top of him, grabbing the rims of the tub in a white-knuckled grip, his jaw tight. He slips deep inside me, the feeling overwhelming, his cock stroking every pleasurable spot until I can’t keep quiet anymore and moan out loud.
The pleasure is making me light-headed. I grip his shoulders to steady myself, bending over him, and he thrusts up.
I cry out at the fullness. It’s perfect. I’m panting with it, unable to think past the fact he’s sheathed inside me again, fitting me, stretching me, making me…
Making me his.
I falter, and he stops moving, watching me from heavy-lidded eyes. His body is still arched backward, his hands still gripping the rims of the tub, the tendons in his neck corded. His cock pulses inside me, a steady tickle that tells me he’s on the cusp of shooting his load.
But
“Miss your friend, huh?”
“Damn right. I’m worried about him.” He drags me close, then starts undressing me. “Missed you, too.”
“You can’t,” I whisper.
“Can’t what?”
“Say things like that to me.”
“Why not?” His hands still on the zipper of my dress.
“Because of your promise. Because there can never be anything real between us.”
He gives a dry laugh. “What’s more real than sex?”
“You know what I mean.”
He says nothing after that, his grin frozen in place, kind of manic. His hands are moving, though, taking off my dress, cupping my boobs, stroking down my flanks. His mouth finds my mouth, and he pushes me back against the tiled wall of the bathroom, kissing me hard.
He lifts my hand with the bracelet on, drags the metal against his cheek. His lashes are lowered, hiding his eyes. “You make me feel good. Like everything’s fine in the world.”
“Then why can’t you be with me?” I ask, before I can stop the words. “Is it because of what you said? Danger?”
Stop, stupid mouth! I barely know him—except for his awesome body, that is. I don’t really want to be his girlfriend.
Do I?
“Forget about that,” he mutters.
“But I—”
“I needed to see you.” A crease forms between his brows as he releases my hand and takes a step back. He pushes his hair out of his eyes. Such a boyish gesture. He looks so young like this.
I keep forgetting he’s barely older than myself. And tonight he looks oddly lost in thought. Lost inside his own head.
Drawing a deep breath, inhaling his scent, I put my hands on his jacket and push it off his shoulders. He blinks, as if caught off guard, and lets me peel the jacket off him, then his T-shirt. His chest rises and falls sharply when I skim his pecs and broad ribcage, then undo his jeans and push them down, too.
Then groans when I go to my knees to take off his biker boots, socks and pants, leaving him naked.
When I stand back up, he puts his hands possessively on my ass and mashes my body to his, grinding his stirring hard-on between us. He’s kissing me again, and doesn’t stop as he tugs me toward the tub.
I toe off my shoes and he breaks the kiss to help me inside the warm water. The tub is half-full by now and when he climbs inside and pulls me down, on top of him, that’s more than enough.
“I want you,” he whispers and squeezes my boobs in his big hands, then bends forward to lick my nipples. “Couldn’t think of much less during my trip. Fuck…”
He leans back when I put my hand between us and tug on the piercing, then curl my fingers around his thick cock, eyes closing. He’s so hard, it feels like he’s close to coming.
I know his body. I can feel his approaching orgasm in the way his legs shake underneath me, the way his balls are drawn up tight.
Lifting up, I guide him inside me—because I missed him, too, and I want him desperately.
He arches up when I sink on top of him, grabbing the rims of the tub in a white-knuckled grip, his jaw tight. He slips deep inside me, the feeling overwhelming, his cock stroking every pleasurable spot until I can’t keep quiet anymore and moan out loud.
The pleasure is making me light-headed. I grip his shoulders to steady myself, bending over him, and he thrusts up.
I cry out at the fullness. It’s perfect. I’m panting with it, unable to think past the fact he’s sheathed inside me again, fitting me, stretching me, making me…
Making me his.
I falter, and he stops moving, watching me from heavy-lidded eyes. His body is still arched backward, his hands still gripping the rims of the tub, the tendons in his neck corded. His cock pulses inside me, a steady tickle that tells me he’s on the cusp of shooting his load.
But
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