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He parted his legs slightly, and he even touched his dick, adjusting his position, which I found very erotic.
Despite his eyes darkening with what I sensed was arousal, he remained seated. I was expecting him to pounce.
Peyton used to pounce, before my tits grew too large and he couldn’t even get a hard-on. That rejection had brought on a period of insecurity. Insecurity that had resurfaced with Drake.
Men did the undressing, the picking up. But then, those men hadn’t made my pulse race like Drake did.
“What’s the matter? You don’t like what you see?” I inclined my head to the side.
I joined him on the sofa, and he jumped up like I smelt bad or something.
He raked through his hair with his fingers and stared into my eyes. Not at my half-naked tits, but into my eyes. Mesmerising me with those big blue eyes, he fell into mine, like he could see behind all my bullshit.
“You’re fucking gorgeous.” He sounded in agony or that my being gorgeous was a serious problem for him.
I laughed. “Then what are you scared of?”
He brushed back his dark wave from his tan forehead. “It feels like you do this all the time.”
I grabbed my shirt and covered myself. “You’re fucking weird.”
“Yeah, well, I am that.” He turned on the spot, looking uncertain again. “I think I need to go.”
“You’re leaving? Why don’t we just sleep together? No sex. Promise.”
Why am I begging? Err…
He looked at me strangely, like I’d proposed he sleep with a snake or some man-eating beast. That comparison made me smile. I could be either of those things.
After what seemed like ages, he nodded.
Ten minutes later, we were in bed. Even that was weird, in that he had to look away when I stripped down, despite seeing me in nothing but my thong earlier. I lent him my toothbrush, and it seemed like we were teenagers having a sleepover. Not that I’d ever had any experience. My only reference to what a typical teenager’s world looked like were those screechy teen movies, which I’d sometimes watched as a teenager. Only someone forgot to tell me that Hollywood didn’t do normal.
I cuddled into him and breathed him in deeply. Drake was all firm muscle beneath his T-shirt. Just us there, with our warm bodies close, felt nice, despite the throb between my legs. I even contemplated using my fingers. I was seriously in need of a release.
Wearing my favourite silk nightie, I rubbed myself against him. I loved how he smelt. Dangerous. After that fight, his scent had changed.
I rocked into his body, and he turned to face me.
Moonlight pouring through the window of the upstairs room made his face appear older. Different. But still handsome. I knew he would get hotter with age, which only intensified my craving for him, and for us to make that journey together and not just end in a one-night stand. Even though that didn’t seem possible, given how seriously Drake took things.
On one hand, I appreciated he took sex seriously, while on the other, my body burned with frustration because I wanted him more than anything.
“Am I keeping you awake?” I asked.
“You could say that.”
I felt his dick tenting his briefs against my stomach, which only fired me up.
He must have read my need because his mouth landed on mine, and that time, it was soft and explorative. Like he needed to understand my lips. Our tongues twirled together, and I fell into one of those flying dreams. All pinks and reds. And hoping never to wake up.
His hands travelled up and down my curves.
“You’ve got the most perfect body.” He sounded in agony.
I allowed my strap to slip and slide down, and his mouth found my nipples as he fondled my tits.
His dick kept thickening against my thigh.
