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The inferno in me was lit. I wanted more.
I reached down, finding his sweatpants’ waistband and started to slide my hand inside, but he caught it and lifted it up, pressing my hand down as he rolled more concretely over me. He was halting any other way I could reach for his cock. But he kept kissing me, his tongue sliding inside and taking ownership of me in that way.
I tried with my other hand.
He caught that one and pinned both down as he kept tasting me.
God. It felt so good.
His mouth, his tongue. He was so good at this. Hours. I could do this for hours with him.
Arching my back, I tried to lift him a little bit, but he only chuckled. His mouth moved over mine again. It never left me as he was doing a slow move up and into my body. I could feel him, his dick was straining, and he was grinding into me through my leggings.
I wanted that last connection. Needing it, I wound my legs tight around his waist, pushing back against him.
He groaned this time, his mouth falling away as he was panting.
“Babe, let me wake up to you. I wanna take my time.”
“We’re not slow sex people.”
His eyes had a dark molten look simmering there and he focused back on my mouth. He murmured, “We are today.” He bent down, his mouth catching mine and this time, he wouldn’t let go. Not that I was fighting him. I opened right up for him, my neck arching up and into him, and he moved with me. This gave me a small opening between our bodies. I snaked my hand out from under his, found his stomach, and he sucked in a breath at the touch. I slid down, slowly, with purpose, my palm flat against his stomach, under his waistband. He didn’t stop my touch this time, and I knew I had him. I found him, wrapping my hand around him, and he gasped, breaking away from my mouth. He fell half down, his mouth rasping against my ear. “I fucking love when you do that.”
“Do what? This?” I squeezed lightly.
He moaned.
“Or this?” I began moving up and down.
Another deep and guttural groan from him.
I kept pumping him and he held himself still, feeling me feeling him.
“God, you’re so good at that.”
I laughed. “The compliments that happen in bed.”
He grinned, laughing, and he turned to see me more fully. All the while, I kept working him and the glazed, darkened look in his gaze was my reward. I loved seeing that look from him. “You got a few more before I bury myself in you so deep I’m gonna poke your stomach.”
“See. Love the shit you say to me.”
He laughed but lifted himself up more so he could see me touching him, sliding up and down over him. “Goddamn,” he whispered before his whole body shuddered and he reared up. The blanket was thrown off. His hands caught my hips, jerking me down, and took hold of my leggings, whipping them off me. Leggings normally didn’t work that way. They stuck like a second skin. They were pushed down, not whipped off. Not with Cruz. At the sight of my bare legs, he paused, eyeing me, and his tongue touched his lip.
I knew what he had in mind, and I was torn.
I wanted his dick in me, but he bent, peeling my underwear down, this time going slow. He laid me more fully down on the bed, getting comfortable. I closed my eyes, knowing he was going to torture me all over again.
His mouth settled over me, and I almost came right then and there.
He began, and he moaned a second later. “Fuck! I love eating you.”
I twisted, knowing I was the one with the lidded and glazed look now, but I loved watching him as much as he loved eating me. Sunday breakfast.
I had the thought, before the edges of my vision blurred and I could still think. “Twist up. 69.”
He moved around, and my mouth closed over his dick as his returned to my clit.
I was really happy that I came this morning.
“What are your plans today?” Cruz asked as he came from the shower, heading to his closet.
I flipped over in bed. Unlike him, who was getting up to head to the ice rink, I was being lazy. I’d not dressed, and I pulled his blanket more firmly over me.
“Uh. Studying? Probably.”
He dropped the towel, and my mouth watered.
It was a crime against hockey players to cover up their hotness with those pads and jerseys. For real. These guys were insane with how many times they went to the rink to practice. There were skill sessions through the day. Weight sessions. Actual cardio sessions and then there was the real practice. Mix in studying, getting all the sleep they needed, and all the fuel, these guys were some of the busiest athletes I knew. But all that work equaled mouthwatering salivating bodies. I was drooling, looking over Cruz’s body, his back, as he was reaching for his shirt and all the muscles were shifting together.
