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He raises his hips for me, and I tug his pants and boxer briefs down his thighs, stopping mid-way so they constrict his movement just a bit, and I see the tattoos don’t stop on his stomach anymore. They cover his hips and his lower abdomen, starting again on his upper thighs.
But I can’t look long because my eyes fall hard on his cock. He’s already semi-hard for me and even bigger than I remember. I always thought I exaggerated his size in my head. Sure that it had been my virgin brain freaking out over its first dick. But now I’ve had enough to know that my memory was right.
My hands go to my shirt, and I pull it over my head, tossing it to the side while he watches. I go to my shorts next, unbuttoning them and pulling the zipper down slowly. His eyes are glued to my every movement, and I smirk at the way he pulls his lower lip between his teeth as I slide the shorts down and step out of them. I’m thankful I put on the matching lace set Ijust bought as a midsummer present for myself. Because I want him to eat his fucking heart out for everything he’s put me through—then and now.
“Madison…” he mutters and just stares as his eyes drift down my body.
It’s one of the most gratifying experiences of my life—like younger me is getting a little revenge. It makes me want more. A chance to torture him for a while before I give him what we both want. I climb onto the bed, carefully straddling him, and then lean forward to test that the belt still has him restrained.
“You sure you’re comfortable trying this?” I might want to punish him for hurting me but he’d always been respectful, and I can give him that much back.
“Yes.”
“You want to stop, just say so.”
“Do I get a safe word?” He grins playfully.
“Pick one.”
His eyes drift over my body again before they come back up to mine and then they light with something before he speaks.
“Ice cream.”
I realize then why he bought the ice cream for me. Why he was saying it now. I smirk as I look him over, remembering how we got ourselves into this mess in the first place. The night on the deck at my parent’s house that summer when he’d tried to stay away and failed miserably. When I’d come out on the deck and started feeding him bites of my ice cream. Ones he’d tasted greedily, just before he’d made a point of tasting all of me.
“Ice cream it is.”
23
Quentin
She runsher fingers over my shoulders and then down my chest, curling them until it’s her nails raking over my skin. She drags them gently over my stomach and stops short when she gets to my cock. I watch her smirk as she studies the tension that’s building in my muscles, amused that she has this much control. She runs her hand over me to test me until she hears my ragged breathing. I watch as she wraps her fingers around and starts to stroke her palm over the length of me, feeling the warmth of her soak in. I’ve waited so many years for her to touch me again. It’s all too much, and it makes me shutter my eyes.
“I told myself I couldn’t be remembering things right. That you weren’t this big, and it was just that it was my first time.” Fuck, she’s good at this. So good I can barely keep my headstraight. I just want to beg her to ride me. But I’ve got to stay focused. Prove that I can be worth it for her.
When I open my eyes, I nearly break at the sight of her. I can’t look away from her golden blonde hair cascading down as her eyes stay locked on the way her hand moves over my cock, watching the way her tongue darts out over her lip like she wants a taste, and the way she studies me and every reaction I have to her. That’s before I get to how gorgeous her body is—like a fucking dream, especially in the lingerie she has on. I’m having the same reconciliation with my own memories.
“I knew you were fucking beautiful, Madness. But you’re even more gorgeous now.” I should have better words than this. Should have practiced what I might say or do if I ever got this chance with her. Instead I’m just half stunned into silence. She doesn’t say much herself until she finally grins.
“Hmm.” She hums.
“What?”
“You’re being good. I’m surprised. I thought you’d last maybe five seconds.”
“I last a lot longer than that.”
“You think?” She raises a brow at my cockiness.
“I know.”
“Guess we’ll see.”
She lets go of me, and I immediately regret my words—anything that makes her stop touching me is a mistake. But I’m still rewarded a moment later when she shimmies out of the panties she has on and tosses them next to me on the bed. I wait for her to take the bra off, but she doesn’t. It breaks my heart a little because I’m dying to have the full effect of her naked, the chance to see how much better she looks ten years later with all the confidence she’s built over those years.
She climbs back up on the bed, this time turning like she might fuck me reverse cowgirl. I’m ready to be smug. Make acomment about how she’s the one who’s too impatient for this plan. Except I have to eat my words before I even say them when she straddles my chest, bending over so that I have a full view of her pretty little cunt hovering just out of my reach. She’s glistening already, wet and needy, but I can’t touch her. I pull on the belt and groan in frustration when I realize I can’t quite get close enough. I can hear the sound of amusement she makes in return.
“This is fucking unfair…” I complain not realizing it’s about to get ten times worse. Her tongue runs its way around my cock, and she takes me with her mouth a moment later. She’s perfect in the way she teases me with soft touches and swirls and then follows with the stroke of her hand and the comfort of her mouth. It’s once, twice, and I’m already feeling my balls go fucking tight as she starts to pick up her pace. She’s loving it, getting wetter by the second.
