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I’m desperate to press my thumbs to his cum gutters. To link them under his waistband and slowly drag the sweats down.
“Eyes on mine,” he says.
I immediately follow directions. My gaze snaps to his, and the air punches from my lungs at the way he’s looking at me. Unmasked lust, pure want, that snakes down my spine and pools in my belly.
His lips hitch up on one side, and then his ass lands in my lap. My eyes almost roll back at the friction.
Orson’s sinful hips don’t stop. Rolling and swaying, grinding down into me. He grips my shoulders to arch backward, showing off his body, and I’m fucking lost in him. I control myself enough to not touch, but fuck me, it’s a real challenge by this point. His muscles are tempting me, his scent is driving me crazy, and the slight bulge I’m trying to ignore is making my blood hot.
Orson reaches for the bottom of my shirt, teases his fingers along the hem, lighting the skin he touches on fire. When he shoves my T-shirt up, I lift my arms, helping him rid me of it. His chest to my chest. Skin on skin. Warm, delicious, addictive.
Then Orson stands, hooks one leg over my shoulder, and the bulge I’ve been doing my best not to look at is right there in my face. Bobbing and hardening beneath the soft material, begging for my mouth, making my cock so stiff I’m practically cross-eyed, stare glued to the performance happening a few inches away.
“Holyfuck.” The words come out a thousand times louder than I mean them to, but I’m in serious danger of beingtooturned on. What’s the deal here? Just a fun bit of teasing? Will it be too weird if Iactuallyblow my load?
Not like it’d be my fault when he’s an inch away from grinding against my fucking face.
Orson’s leg releases me, and his cock disappears, only to be replaced by his ass. That fucking round, perfect booty twerking up and down in a hypnotic rhythm. I want to lean forward, sink my teeth in. Warn him that this is a game I can play all night, but before I can move, his ass lands in my lap. Right over my cock. There’s no way he doesn’t know what he’s doing to me. No way to deny that his body is turning me on.
The friction is sweet relief and agonizing torture all at once. I’m trying to keep it together, trying to be good and not get lost in him, not freak him out, but at this point, if he doesn’t realize I’m this fucking close to the edge, the man is an idiot. He knows what he’s doing to me.
And he’s still going.
So hewantsto be doing this to me.
That thought almost turns me on as much as this lap dance.
“Orson …” I gasp, trying to warn him. To let him know that soon, I won’t be able to stop myself. My hands are aching to grab his hips, my cock desperate to thrust up against him.
Instead of backing off though, his fingers link through mine, and he steers my hands to his chest. My palms make contact with all that warm, smooth skin, marveling at every ridge as he drags my hands down to his hips and back up again.
Motherfucker, it’s on.
I pull him against me, back to my chest, hips getting in on the action as I grope every part of his torso I can reach. His neck is right beside my face, and I bury my nose into it, inhaling the smell of his hot skin, scraping my blunt nails over his pecs, grinding my cock against his ass with only one goal in mind.
I need to come.
My brain is a lust haze where nothing else exists but getting there.
Orson’s movements get faster, harder, more desperate. My eyes flicker open for a second to see his hand dive beneath the sweats and close around his cock. The mouthwatering, dark pink head peeks out as he jerks himself fast, and I have to slam my eyes closed again.
My hands clamp down on his hips, and I rut against him like I’m possessed. Like I’ll die if I stop. The uncontrolled grunts coming from me mix with the music and that staticky type of feeling taking over my brain, reaching all the way down every limb. Making them float.
“Oh, yeah,” he breathes.
And when I look down, thick ropes of cum spurt from his cock. My balls pull tight, zaps going off at the base of my spine, and it’s not even a second later that I follow him over the edge in a wave of mind-numbing relief.
It isn’t until some of the buzzing goodness and brain fog recedes that I realize I’ve just come in my pants.
For the first time in my adult life.
I groan and press my face to his shoulder. “That was … one hell of a reward.”
To my complete relief, Orson cracks up laughing. “Can confirm that wasn’t a chore. Not even close.”
We both sit there breathing for a second before Orson reaches over and turns off the music.
We’re plunged into sudden silence, and that awkwardness I’d been expecting kicks in. At least, that’s what I think is happening.
