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Then again…
“Okay,” I say before I can really even rationalize what I’m doing. I don’t think it matters anyway. I can spend a few more weeks mulling it over and most likely come up with the same answer. In the end, it comes down to the simple fact that I want him, and apparently that means I’m ready to try anything.
Lake goes very still. I don’t think he moves a single muscle. But then he leans closer. His lips hover above my lips. His eyes search mine.
“You do realize we’re playing with fire?” he murmurs the words, and all the while he’s speaking, his lips graze mine over and over again, making small shivers of pleasure and excitement move over my skin.
“Will it stop you?” I ask.
“No, I’m stupid like that,” he says and kisses me.
He’s pressing into me, and I’m pressing into him. His mouth opens, and he clutches the back of my neck. His tongue is in my mouth, and mine is in his. We stumble a few steps back and topple onto the couch, mouths still fused together.
He grabs onto my thighs and wrestles me on top so I’m straddling him. This is new, too. No one’s ever manhandled me in bed before—I’m too big. But Lake is strong. Tall and wiry and strong. My mouth goes dry, because fuck yeah, that’s hot.
And it only gets better.
His hard cock is trapped against my stomach as he presses himself against me, mouth still fused with mine, fingers gripping my hair again. I squeeze his hips and try to think of hockey stats to distract myself from the way he’s grinding himself against me.
It becomes useless when Lake’s lips descend on my throat and neck. He dips his tongue into the hollow of my throat and licks over my Adam’s apple, then up to my chin before he dives for my mouth again.
He tugs my shirt off roughly and tosses it across the room. His thumbs cover my nipples and rub. A low groan escapes when he lowers his head and licks one with the flat of his tongue. My eyes flutter shut, and my head falls back. Teeth scrape over the flat disk. Over and over and over again.
“Sensitive?” he murmurs against my skin.
“Feels good.” The words come out slurred like I’m drunk. Sort of starts to feel like it, too, if I’m honest. The sort of good, floaty lightness you get from just the right number of shots.
Those imaginary shots come with a side of determination.
I slide myself down onto the floor until I’m kneeling in front of him, and I lick my dry lips and stare at the bulge in his pants.
Determined, still.
Just not quite sure how to best go about this.
So far, he’s jerked me off and sucked me dry and done both like a fucking pro, so excuse the fuck out of me, but I’d like to measure up at least to some extent.
A dick.
In my mouth.
Yeah, I can do this.
More importantly, I want to do this.
I look up, and Lake’s eyes are trained on me.
My pulse hammers in my throat.
I hook my fingers into the waistband of his sweats. He lifts his hips without comment, and I tug the pants down. He sits in front of me, his cock jutting up like a steel pole.
I slide my palms up his thighs. The hair tickles my palms. When I reach the groove where his thighs meet his groin he lets out a sharp breath, and I tilt my head to the side.
Now I’m wondering what other interesting sounds I might be able to coax out of him.
There’s only one way to find out.
So I wrap my hand around him and give a tentative tug.
