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The ride, in all actuality, is rather short because before I know it, I feel an orgasm barreling down on me. Latham continues to suck and lick at the pierced nipple, and reaches over to the other with his large hand. He takes the right nipple between his fingers and pinches. Not too hard, but just enough to send a lightning bolt of lust straight to my pussy. I call out as wave after wave of pleasure courses through my body, as I fly high in the sky and slowly free fall back to earth.
As my surroundings start to return to me, I open my eyes, only to come face-to-face with Latham’s dark, hungry ones. The look he gives me sends shivers through my body and desire starts to return. Reaching forward, I go for his belt, only to have my hand stopped before it can reach its destination. My eyebrows arch upward and I give him a challenging look. His eyes narrow on me, but he doesn’t say a word. Since he’s holding my right hand, I reach down with my left and palm his erection through his pants. Latham’s nostrils flare, but he doesn’t say a word, doesn’t move a muscle.
When I try to pull on his zipper, he stops my hand again. “Why not?” I whisper.
“It’s not required because of what I just did,” he says.
“Latham, I don’t do anything I don’t want to do. You know that,” I add, running my finger down the length of the zipper.
His jaw ticks with tension. “My pants stay on.”
“Well, that won’t make it very easy, but I’m up for the challenge,” I say, spinning him around so his back is to my front.
I press my chest to his warm back, loving the way his skin feels against me, and run my hands down his chest. I have to move my arms under his, but it gives me better access to what he’s hiding in his pants. I undo his belt (because he never said I couldn’t) and pop open the button. I can tell he’s just about to say something, but I silence him by sliding my hand along his lower abdomen and into his underwear. Latham tenses again, his body going completely rigid as my hand comes in contact with hard, warm flesh. Latham hisses as I wrap my hand around his length, palming his thick erection and wishing I could get my mouth on it.
But we’ll save that for another day.
Because something tells me Latham Douglas is an addiction I can’t afford to have, yet I don’t want to walk away.
Not yet.
Not now.
Maybe not ever.
