He shifts, one thigh sliding between mine to widen my stance.
“Been thinking about this since the second course,” he mutters. “Fuck, you taste good, Pen.”
I tilt my head back, giving him access to the column of my throat as his tongue follows the pulse there. His fingers curl under the hem of my dress, climbing up until he reaches the thin lace of my panties.
His knuckles glide over fabric that’s already soaked, a lazy pass meant only to test.
“Fuck,” I pant, arching away from the wall to chase his touch, and he chuckles.
“So wet, baby,” he rumbles, slipping the fabric aside. Two fingers stroke through my pussy, parting me and circling, then dipping deeper until my knees threaten to give.
My fingers clamp onto his shoulders, nails biting through as my shallow breaths turn ragged. “Oh god yes, don’t stop.”
He hums, watching my reaction. “Not gonna,” he rasps. “Fuck, I love what you do to me.”
His fingers glide against my clit in a tight swirl, and my head thuds back, a choked moan escaping me.
“Evan—”
“I got you.” He withdraws his hand and sucks the fingers into his own mouth, then leans into kiss me.
But before I can react to the taste of myself on his lips, he drops to his knees in one fluid motion, and his fingers slide under the lace at my hips.
“Off.”
The command skims across my skin, and I lift one foot, then the other, letting him peel the soaked lace away.
Cool air kisses my bare skin as he hooks a hand behind my knee, lifting it to rest over his shoulder. My chest rises and falls as I watch his eyes move from my pussy up to my face, and back again.
“Need this pussy.” he murmurs. “Color, Pen?”
“Green,” I exhale, watching as he smirks.
“Good. Put a hand on the wall for me, sweetheart.”
I do, and his first lick is a single stroke that starts at the crease of my thigh and ends with his tongue pressed flat against the blunt ache of my clit.
The sound that slips from me is desperate, and Evan hums in approval, mouth sealing around me, the vibration shooting straight up my spine.
I brace my palm against the wall harder while my other hand flies into his hair, pushing him harder against me.
“Yes, baby, tug my hair and grind your pussy on my tongue.”
The hallway light glints off the curve of his shoulder and the flex of his forearm where he holds my leg in place. I can’t stop watching him. How every movement is filled with desire, how his expression changes each time I moan his name.
“Fuck,” he husks, lips glistening. “There's nothing better than this.”
My hips roll, seeking more, and he answers with a firmer suck that nearly undoes me.
“Oh—oh, god.”
I try to slow my breathing, try to keep myself from tipping too soon, but then he slides two fingers in and scissors them, and the choice is gone.
“Evan,” I moan, writhing faster.
He hums his approval, the vibration punching through my core as he leans back. “You’re soaking me, Pen.” He curls his fingers again and watches me. “You gonna give it to me?”
I nod frantically, my fingers tightening in his hair and tugging his mouth back onto me. He grins against me, flicking his tongue, then sealing his lips to suck, and the coil snaps.
