We both moan against the other, and it takes every fiber of my being to remain still. My body urges me to move, but I can’t seek pleasure in her. Not yet.
She doesn’t seem to have the same restraint though. Because as my lips travel down her neck, she rocks her hips against me. I can’t hold back the guttural groan that escapes my throat. She continues rubbing herself, chasing her high.
“Bash, yes. Please.” When she whispers my name as a plea on her lips, I break.
I press her into the couch, pinning her down. My hands find their way under her shirt, skin to skin. When I hesitate at her bra, she encourages me with a tug on my hand.
“My angel,” I moan as the first contact with her breasts has me close to tears of gratitude. Her voluptuous curves fit in my hands perfectly.
When I brush my thumb against her nipple, she shrieks in pleasure. My hand is large enough against her smaller torsothat I can play with both peaks at once. She reacts instantly, arching her back.
The feeling of fingers traveling under my shirt, exploring my muscles is too much for me. I press against her core and hold myself still, fighting against my body even as I feel my sac tighten. As she squirms against my cock, I can’t stop myself from emptying into my boxer briefs. I bite her neck to hold in my groan, causing her to scream again.
It’s been six years since I’ve felt a woman’s touch. I’m surprised I lasted this long. Despite being sensitive, my cock doesn’t go down. It remains hard for her.
“Holy shit. You bit me,” she says in a ragged voice.
“I’m sor–”
“Do it again,” she demands.
Not needing to be told twice, I bite her shoulder, then lick the sting away. Even through the haze, I’m aware enough to not leave a mark anywhere noticeable.
When she whips off her top, I pull back so I can take in the beauty before me. Her pink skin calls to me. Leaning down, I kiss my way along her quickly expanding and contracting chest. Her breaths only encourage me, and when she tugs my head to her pert bud, I suction onto one, drawing as much pleasure as I can.
Not even the sound of cannons firing can pull us from this paradise. Her legs wrap around me, trapping my sensitive cock against her.
Eventually, she pulls me from her heavenly tits, only to meet my mouth. Her tongue duels with mine for dominance, and I let her win, accepting her into my mouth. I wrap an arm under her head and pull her off the couch and into me.
Lost in our connection, when the room descends into darkness, I freeze, reaching back for the gun that isn’t there. Realizing it’s just the movie ending, I reluctantly pull back andhelp her sit up. Grabbing her top from the floor, I put it back on her, straightening it so it’s in place.
“This wasn’t my intention when I invited you over. I mean, it was… Fuck, I don’t have words. That was… thank you.” I take off my fogged glasses and rub them against my shirt. “I hope you know I just wanted to spend time with you. But that… that was incredible.”
She blushes impossibly further. “Yeah. It was.” Her voice is still husky as she says it.
I reach forward and as my fingers rearrange her bangs into place, she shivers. Jogging into the coat closet, I grab my softest sweatshirt and put it on her. I’m not an enormous man, but with the way my sweatshirt drowns her, she makes it seem so.
This woman makes me feel like a man. Filling me with the animalistic urges to not only protect her but possess her.
“Thank you,” she murmurs as she plays with the edges of the sweatshirt.
“Do you want me to walk you home, or do you want me to drive?” I’m praying she says walk so I can spend more time with her. But it may be better if she chooses the car so I can get out of these sticky boxers sooner.
“Let’s walk.”
I smile despite my discomfort and hold out my arm for her. She intertwines hers in mine, and we walk her home.
When we get to her front door, she beckons for me to lean down, and she presses a chaste kiss to my lips. I refrain from deepening it, enjoying what she’s willing to give me.
“Goodnight, angel. Sleep well,” I murmur as I watch her go inside.
“You too, Bash. Thank you for tonight. The burgers and well…” She blushes as she shuts the door.
Back at home, I stare at my couch, my new favorite piece of furniture. I silently thank it for giving me tonight. Then I shower and take myself in hand to the memory of her touch. Or the feeling of her.
As I get in bed, I prepare new flashcards. These on red paper. Notes of what made her make the most noise when I touched her. What she loved the most.
And I vigorously study them, needing to be an expert in pleasing my Lizzy.
