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His fingers slip beneath the fabric before lowering it one painstaking inch at a time. A scream builds in my lungs as I wait for him to finally rip them free. His attention stays locked on my center until I can feel the burn of his gaze on my bare skin.
It’s as if he’s leisurely unwrapping a Christmas present and wants to savor each second of the experience, prolonging the excitement until it becomes excruciating. He slides the material down my hips and over my thighs before tugging off the thong and tossing it over his shoulder, where it sails carelessly to the carpet.
Now that I’m completely bare, I tremble beneath the intensity of his stare as it drifts over every inch. There’s something strangely erotic about being stripped naked while he looms over me, fully dressed in a crisp looking tux.
“I know I’ve said it before,” he murmurs more to himself than to me, “but you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.” His gaze flickers to mine before dropping to my core.
Reaching out, he caresses my inner thighs with strong hands. Back and forth, his calloused palms scrape against me.
Air clogs my throat as he lowers himself to the floor until his warm breath can ghost across my core. My teeth sink into my lower lip to keep the anticipation trapped inside. Seconds tick by before the velvety softness of his tongue makes contact, stroking over me, running from the bottom of my slit to the top where he circles my clit with the tip. A groan works its way loose as my eyelids feather closed. A series of fireworks explodes behind them in a colorful array. There’s absolutely nothing rushed about what he’s doing. It’s as if he has all the time in the world for discovery. And that’s exactly what it feels like. An exploration as his tongue dances over every delicate inch.
Unable to help myself, my body twists. His hands lock around my inner thighs, the fingertips sinking into the muscle, pinning me in place as he works my delicate flesh, forcing me closer to the edge.
A whimper escapes from me as I arch against him. His tongue dips inside before taking a long, leisurely lap of my pussy. My muscles tighten as arousal builds, ratcheting up in intensity. It only takes one more stroke of his tongue against my clit and I’m splintering apart beneath his firm hold. The cry tears from my lips as he continues to feast on my flesh, licking and sucking until I’m dizzy with the sensation. Until it feels like I’ll burst right out of my skin. He doesn’t stop until every drop has been wrung from my over sensitized body. Until all I can do is lie there, a limp mess, breathing hard as I stare sightlessly at the ceiling. Nothing I’ve experienced to this point has ever felt so cataclysmic. As if it were a spiritual awakening rather than a sexual one.
That thought is enough to leave me smirking. Of course I’ve heard the whispers around campus regarding Crosby’s prowess.
Who hasn’t?
He’s legendary with the ladies at Western.
What I can now tell you from personal experience is that it’s all true. Not only is the man talented on the football field but in this department as well.
And the lip ring…
Another shudder spirals through me.
I’m knocked from those hazy thoughts when he crawls up my body and hovers over me until our gazes can lock. Arousal lights his dark eyes as he presses his lips to mine. I open, and our tongues slide against each other.
“Do you taste your sweetness on me?”
My breath catches as I nod.
“Fucking delicious,” he growls.
His tongue darts out again, moving in tandem with my own.
“I don’t know how I’ll ever get enough of you.”
My belly hollows out as fresh desire explodes inside me.
“Are you ready for more?”
The thought of there being more is dizzying. Before I can respond, his heavy weight disappears, and he rises to his feet. A shiver courses through me as his fingers settle on the loosened tie around his neck before dragging it from the collar. After it’s been dispatched, he works on the buttons, setting them free one at a time. Slowly, the crisp white fabric parts, revealing a snowy-colored T-shirt beneath. The starched dress shirt gets discarded before the undershirt is yanked over his head and he’s left standing before me bare-chested with just the black trousers.
Every line of Crosby’s body is hard and sculpted. I can only imagine the hours he spends in a gym to look like this.
He grabs something from the pocket before unfastening the black leather belt and unsnapping the button. My heartbeat kicks up a notch as the zipper is slowly lowered. There’s a grind of metallic teeth before the pants are forced past his hips and down muscular thighs. Shoes are toed off as socks get removed and then, finally, he’s left in black boxer briefs.
