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“That one,” she giggled, pulling away from me to point properly since I was apparently a Goddamn mess.
If the boys saw me now…
Actually, not a single one would blame me for tripping over myself to get into bed with a girl like Freya in my arms.
With her mouth gone, mine traveled down her neck, nibbling and nipping until I saw a bright pink comforter in my peripheral.
Pink?
It suited her.
Without flourish, I dumped her onto the bed, snatching off my shirt instantly.
Was that drool on her mouth?
She just sat there, leaning against her elbows, watching as I tossed it across the room, then dove after her skirt.
Her panties were laughable, tiny little scraps of lace that I felt a little animalistic about. Who was the lace for?
Snapping the fragile fabric, I held them up to her for an explanation.
“Who’re you wearing these for?”
“Sometimes a girl wants to feel sexy,” she panted as I dragged that skirt up until it hugged her hips.
“Bullshit,” I countered.
She gasped as my fingers dragged through her slick, wet and waiting for me.
“Fuck!” she barked, throwing her head back.
I took my hands away, squeezing her thighs. She whimpered again.
“Who?” I demanded, wondering if this kind of torture would work for a regular interrogation.
“You,” she bit out. “I knew there was a tiny, infinitesimal chance that you would be there tonight at my parents’.”
“Good girl,” I growled out, then dropped my face to that beautiful little cunt that smelled like a dream.
Her back hit the mattress, arms giving out as she moaned loud, planting her feet on my shoulders to lift those hips for a harder grind.
I just gripped her thighs, digging in so she could use me to grind against while I tasted her to my heart’s content.
It didn’t take long at all before she was coming, gushing over my tongue like she’d neglected an orgasm for too damn long.
No worries. I’d make up for those two years.
Two fucking years wasted.
With one more suck on her clit, I lifted my face to look into hers. She was jelly against the sheets, legs falling across my shoulders as I moved, spreading her legs further so I could settle between those lush thighs.
“You’re still dressed,” she pointed out, sounding high as fuck.
“A temporary inconvenience,” I promised as my fingers moved to undo the buttons of her blouse.
Jelly limbs and all, she helped, moving the shirt off her arms before she reached behind her back and undid her bra.
Next was her skirt, which I struggled to find the zipper for. Hidden zippers were a thing, apparently.
