Vivien
* * *
I never want to stop kissing Spencer.
He tastes like cinnamon and heat and want, and his mouth is the perfect mixture of soft and firm and eager.
His hands cup my face like they belong there, warm and possessive.
I tighten my legs around his waist, needing him closer. His length presses against me, against the thin layer of my leggings. I gasp. I need more, my hips moving, seeking relief.
His grip slides down from my face to my waist, then back up, cupping my breasts over the delicate material of my bra, thumbs tracing back and forth over my hardening nipples.
I groan. Or he groans. Maybe we both do. I can’t even tell anymore, I’m delirious with lust.
Then I’m moving. He’s lifting me off of him, and before I can protest, he’s laying me back on the sofa and kneeling between my knees.
Holy shit, this is happening.
Before I can grasp at a coherent thought, my shoes are gone, leggings tugged off, and his head is between my thighs. He watches me, eyes focused and steady as he rubs against my thin cotton panties with his fingers.
Then his mouth replaces his fingers.
My back arches.
At some point, my underwear disappears, along with everything else in the world except where he’s touching me, hands sliding up my legs, my fingers gripping his hair.
Pleasure spirals through me, cresting and then crashing like thunder through my limbs, my whole body shaking through the aftershocks.
Spencer makes his way up my body slowly, while I catch my breath.
He kisses up my stomach, under my breast, sweeping over my collarbone until he’s resting alongside me.
“Are you okay?” He picks up my limp hand, linking it with his.
“Uh-huh.” I turn my head toward him.
He’s lying slightly above me, his neck at my eyeline. I lean forward and lick his jaw, immediately gratified by a hiss of air. I press my nose into him, breathing in a hint of cologne and soap. “You smell so good. Why are you still in clothes?”
He groans, clenching my waist. “Trust me. I want to be in you.”
I shift, turning to face him. “Do it now.”
He swallows. “I don’t keep condoms in our waiting room.”
“Why not? I thought you were number one in customer service.”
His chuckle is low. “Does this mean you’re going to leave a bad review?”
“Absolutely. No prophylactics in the waiting area. Zero stars.”
Then he’s on the move. He climbs over me before I can even think about sitting.
Then he picks me up, like I’m nothing.
I wrap my legs around his waist, his hands gripping my thighs.
It’s the perfect angle to kiss, so I take full advantage, nibbling on his bottom lip.
