“Can I take your skirt off?” he asks.
“Only if your pants come off, too,” I tease, sliding my hands down to his belt, fingers working the buckle loose. Flicking open the button of his pants, I slowly lower the zipper. My hand brushes the covered ridge of his cock and he exhales sharply. Tyler holds himself above me so I can push them down further, but his pants will only go so far with both of us still tangled on the couch.
“Ya know, this would be a lot easier if we were standing.”
He smirks. “Good point.”
Tyler rises, and I follow, my hands already tugging down my skirt. The moment it’s around my ankles, I kick it to the side. Tyler steps out of his pants quickly until we’re standing in nothing but our underwear, inches apart. Breathless.
His gaze drags down my body, slow and heavy, and when his eyes land on my pink lace panties, his Adam’s apple bobs in a swallow.
“You first,” I whisper, flicking my eyes to his tented boxer briefs and back to his.
He holds my stare for a heartbeat, then hooks his thumbs into the waistband and pushes them down. His cock springs free, and my mouth waters at the sight of him.
Tyler tilts his head at me, expectant.
I smirk, slide one side of my panties down my hip, and then stop.
His jaw ticks.Brat, he mouths, but his eyes have darkened with lust.
Relenting, I shimmy out of my underwear and kick them aside.
Tyler’s eyes move from my face to my chest, down to my thighs, as though memorizing the shape of me. His gaze goes a little unfocused when they land on the bare area between my legs, his lips parting on an exhale. And try though I might, I’m finding it impossible to slow the pounding of my beating heart. I’m certain I’m becoming more and more wet under his penetrating gaze.
Then, in a flurry of movement, we’re back on the couch and I’m straddling him. His cock is right at my entrance, and slowly I sink onto him, taking him inch by glorious inch. He’s thick, stretching me deliciously. I guess things really are bigger in Texas.
A harsh breath escapes him, his hands flexing like he’s holding onto his last shred of control. And then out of nowhere he starts muttering…numbers?
I blink. “Whatcha doing there?”
His grip tightens. “Math,” he exhales sharply, voice strained. “I—” Another sharp exhale. “I have a feeling you might be a little more experienced than me. I might not last long.”
A laugh bursts from me before I can stop it and I bury my face against his shoulder, shaking with amusement.
He groans, dragging his fingertips up and down my back, and there’s something about that simple gesture—fingertips along my back. It feels so intimate my laughter dies in my throat.
Maybe this isn’t simply one night of sex. No, something else entirely is happening here. Straightening, I meet his gaze, helpless to look away, lost in the way he makes me feel. As ridiculous as this will probably sound tomorrow, a feeling of knowing sweeps over me. Yes, we just met, but there’s a whisper deep in my core telling me this is special. My very being recognizes him, every nerve ending alert to his touch, his very presence.
Draping my hands around his neck, I move just enough for him to feel it. He lets out a low, shaky breath that matches my own.
“You okay?” I murmur, while slowly rocking against him.
A low groan sounds from deep within his throat and his fingers tighten on my waist, jaw clenched like he’s fighting a losing battle. “I’m barely hanging on here, Jo.”
Leaning forward, I let my lips brush his. “Then don’t.”
I plant my mouth on his and the tension leaves his shoulders, a shift as he gives in. His hands slide lower, gripping my ass to guide me. My movements are slow at first, savoring the friction, the way he feels just right inside of me.
“Jesus,” he rasps, his head tipping back, heavy-lidded eyes watching me ride him. There’s something powerful in the way he looks at me. Those eyes I could get lost in glance down to where we’re joined and his breath quickens. Tyler’s hands are everywhere—skimming up my back, sliding down to my thighs, like he can’t decide what part of me he wants to touch the most. I move deliberately, grinding down, rolling my hips in a way that makes him suck in a breath.
“Like that?” I ask as I do it again.
“Yes, Jo,” Tyler growls low in his throat, his fingers digging into my skin as he lifts his hips, thrusting deeper. The sensationrips a strangled moan from me, and I still, bracing my hands on his chest. I can feel his heart beating against my palm, the pounding rhythm matches my own, like we are joined in every possible way right now.
When we start to move again, it’s clumsy at first, both of us searching for the right rhythm. His face is a mask of concentration, eyes never straying from mine, and soon our bodies fall in sync, moving together, fast and desperate.
I don’t think I have another orgasm in me, but then he thrusts, hitting just the right spot, and I chase that sharp edge of pleasure coiling hot and tight between us. Every snap of his hips sends another wave of heat pulsing through me, and I know I’m close. I can tell he’s close, too, as his rhythm falters and his eyes slam shut. My release coils through me right as he groans, pulling me against him.
