“Please what?” he asks, his palms caressing my tits, the heels of his hands brushing my nipples as he squeezes my flesh between his hands.
“Please take off your pants,” I whine.
He doesn’t respond, but turns me and slides his hands under my ass until I wrap my legs around his waist. He’s still fully clothed, and my nipples rub against his sweater, but it’s not where I want the friction. I bury my head in his neck to restrain myself from bouncing in his arms, trying to simulate what I really want to be doing this second.
He carries me like it’s nothing to walk with an extra hundred pounds clinging to him and I use the height of my position to finally get my hands into his hair. It’s as thick as I thought it would be and I run the pads of my fingers across his scalp, then do a little hair-tugging of my own and run my tongue along the perimeter of his ear.
We come to a stop in his bedroom and he sets me on my feet at the end of his bed. The room is illuminated with the lights from outside the window, the view the same from here as in the main room. Thankfully I’m not shy. He gives me a little shove so I lie back on my elbows, then correctly analyzes that the boots need to come off to pry these jeans off of me and lifts one ankle at a time, making short work of getting them off my feet. My own hands are already on my pants, zipper down, then shimmying them past my butt, lacy bikini bottoms included. Sawyer finishes the job and observes me buck naked on his bed, rubbing his thumb over his bottom lip. He’s still dressed. Fucking tease.
“Take. Off. Your pants.”
He grins and removes his sweater, then undoes the first few buttons of the button-down he’s wearing beneath it, before reaching behind his neck and pulling the shirt off over his head.
“So assertive, Everly.”
I lick my lips and ogle his chest. Damn rowers. He is in every bit as good shape as I imagined. My * is throbbing, like a physical ache. I want to cross my legs and squeeze, just for the brief pressure it will provide. I consider it, bending my leg and running the toes of one foot up the calf of the opposite leg. But I stop, and bend my knees open instead, exposing myself to him completely. Come here.
His shoes make a soft thump on the floor as he toes them off and finally, finally his hands move to his pants, my eyes trailing down the light smattering of hair leading south as he pops the button, unzips, then stops. Why is he stopping?
He drops his forearms to the bed between my spread legs, his intent clear. I slap an open palm on the bedding and mutter, “Goddammit, Sawyer!” as he kisses the spot right above my clit.
He pauses and looks up at me with a smirk, which should be insulting considering where his face is, but I’ve got more pressing concerns. Namely that I need something larger than a tongue right now.
“Problem?” he asks, eyebrow raised.
He’s fucking with me. He knows what I want.
“I don’t want that.” I stumble over my words because he’s just flattened his tongue and run it over the length of me. Thank fuck I kept that waxing appointment yesterday.
“No?”
“I want you in me.” It’s getting harder to talk, because he’s good with his tongue. “I want you on top of me.”
“Oh, I love the dirty talk, Boots. Go on.”
His tongue is flicking my clit and I arch my back over the bed. I’m totally going to come like this, but it’s not what I really want right now.
“I want your cock inside of me, Sawyer. I want you to sink it into me, with my legs stretched wide and all of your weight on top of me. And then I want to feel you move. I wanna feel you sliding out of me and then slamming back inside. That’s what I want.”
He flattens his tongue and sweeps it across my clit while inserting one thick finger inside of me and dragging it in the perfect come-hither movement. I come, thrashing my head on the bed and screaming his name.
I’m panting when he stands, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Jesus fuck. That move right there has another flood dampening my already wet *. He drops his pants and kneels on the bed, leaning over me to snag a condom from the bedside table. Propping myself up on one elbow, I wrap a hand around the length of him, running it up and down. I could weep with joy. It’s a nice dick. Hard. Thick. Long. Did I mention hard?
I flick my eyes up to find him watching me examine his dick, which is hot, so I hold his gaze and twist my wrist, gliding my hand back and forth. He’s thick, my fingertips barely touching. I’ve given enough handjobs, and I can usually rest the pad of my thumb on the nails of my fingertips as I stroke, but there’s no overlapping here. I swallow, not breaking eye contact with him. The stretch I’m going to feel with him inside of me will be incredible.
I drop my eyes back to his cock in time to watch pre-cum escape the tip and I move my hand up to rub my thumb through it, then use the moisture to massage the head of his dick before dragging the tips of my fingers and thumb together over the head of his cock.