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“Okay. Good. Now that that’s out of the way, take me to your room,” I demanded, pulling him toward the stairs.
He let me, following a step behind, then at the top landing, grabbing me, and slamming me back against a door, his lips and hands already on me.
His cock was straining almost immediately, pressing against my stomach, intensifying the ache I felt to have him inside of me again.
When his hand slipped under my skirt, I shamelessly let him finger me right there in the hall. Where anyone could see.
I didn’t care.
I just needed more of him.
More of this.
Every nerve ending felt fine-tuned to his touch as his fingers slipped in and out of me, thrusting, twisting, his thumb finding my clit and moving side to side.
“Fuck,” I whimpered, rocking against his touch. “More,” I demanded, not sure what I was asking for, just knowing this wasn’t enough.
He dropped down in front of me then, pulling my leg over his shoulder, yanking my panties to the side, and feasting on me, his tongue circling over the hood of my clit, but not making direct contact as his fingers moved in and out of me again.
“Fuck,” I cried, my fingers crushing into his skull as he worked me. “Just like that,” I cried, head tilting back on the wall, eyes closing, getting lost in the moment. “Don’t stop,” I pleaded.
But I didn’t need to.
He had no intention of stopping.
Not until I was crying out, my legs going weak, thighs shaking, as the orgasm slammed through me.
He worked me through, it dragging it out until my legs felt like they weren’t going to hold me anymore.
He came back up, hooking an arm around my waist, and hauling him against me as he walked me to the side, pushed open a door, then kicked it closed as he led me in.
I was too much in an orgasm daze to pay attention to anything but the way he was backing me into the room until my legs hit the mattress.
I lay back as he came over me, his body crushing mine in a way I couldn’t have anticipated wanting so badly, as his lips claimed mine.
Hungry, but unhurried.
Taking his time.
I should have been impatient, clawing at clothes, demanding he fuck me into oblivion, so I could get back to my life and focus again.
But I just… melted into it as his lips pressed and his tongue caressed. I went with him as he rolled me over him, so his hands could roam up and down my back, sinking into my ass, but not with the same urgency as before.
Still, my desire was building again. Slower, somehow deeper, more intense.
Every inch of my skin felt overly sensitive, like when you got a sunburn and ran your finger over it. God, yeah, that was it. It almostburnedI was so turned on.
His hands snuck up under the hem of my shirt, teasing over my bare skin, making goosebumps prickle, and a shiver course through me.
Impatient, his hands went back down, grabbing my legs, and positioning them to straddle him as he folded up.
His hands went down again, grabbing my shirt, and pulling it off of me, the material flying with a flick of his wrist to the side of the room.
That rumbling noise I loved so much moved through him as his hands glided up my sides, then skimmed under the lacy beige and black bra I had on.
He worked the clasps free, then pulled the bra off, tossing it in the direction of my shirt, and baring me to him.
The cool air in his room had my nipples tightening into points, drawing his attention.
