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I chuckle. “Moany Monday sounds like fun.”
He laces our fingers, and I follow him up the stairs to his bedroom. He closes the door and flicks a switch. The string lights at the perimeter of the ceiling blink on, basking the room in a soft, golden glow.
Normally we make out in his Jeep, or sometimes at the lake during one of our late-night swims. He’s gone down on me a couple of times in the pool house. I have to bite the fleshy part of my palm to keep from making too much noise. But I don’t sneak into his room at night. Not because I don’t want to, but because I don’t want to give his parents a reason to cut my stay here short.
Tonight feels different, though. Like things are changing. I’ve always assumed he’d go to college in the fall, and I’d stay here. What Adele said about me being his summer fling held some truth.
“For a second I thought you were going to some college upstate,” BJ says. “I could have dealt if you were here and I was in Chicago, but this is going to be so much better.” He brushes his lips over mine and one hand slides under my T-shirt, his warm fingers on my ribs. “Can I take this off?”
“Yeah. That would be awesome.”
We part long enough for him to pull my shirt over my head. I’m not wearing anything underneath it. His eyes move to my bare breasts, nipples tightening in the cool air. He cups them on a low groan and circles the tight peaks with his thumbs as he kisses my neck. “I want to get naked with you, Snowflake.”
“I’m not stopping you,” I whisper-moan.
His fingers drift down my stomach, and he hooks one into the waistband of my sleep shorts. “Can I take these off?” His lips are at my ear. He nibbles the lobe and skims my cheek with his lips until they meet mine again. “This only goes as far as you want it to, okay? You’re in control here.”
I nod. It’s not like we haven’t been naked together before. It’s just different when we’re in a room with a closed door and a bed. “You can take them off.”
“You’re sure?”
“Positive.”
He tucks a finger into the waistband at each hip and slides my sleep shorts and panties down my thighs. He sinks to one knee, eyes still fixed on mine as he presses his lips just below my navel.
I run my fingers through his hair. “You’re so pretty,” I murmur.
“So are you.” He taps my right ankle.
I lift one foot, then the other, stepping out of my shorts and underwear.
He exhales a long, slow breath and runs his hands up the backs of my thighs. When he reaches the curve of my ass, he squeezes gently and nuzzles against my sex. “I want the taste of your orgasm on my tongue, Snowflake.”
“I am definitely down for a tongue fuck, even though it’s not Tuesday or Thursday.”
He chuckles, and I suck in a breath when he nips my skin.
BJ pats the mattress beside him. “Let’s get you comfortable, then.”
I sit on the edge, then shift to the middle and stretch out. He lies next to me and props his cheek on his fist. His eyes are soft and warm, and he drags a single finger from my temple to the edge of my jaw, continuing down my throat, over my collarbone, and lower.
“You okay if I take a little time getting to the good part?” He circles my nipple, skims along my stomach, and keeps going.
“It’s all the good part, but you’re always about delayed gratification, so I know better than to expect you to dive right in.” I bend my right leg and plant my foot on the mattress, giving him access to where I ache the most. “And I appreciate your attention to detail.”
“The goal is always to make you feel good.” His finger drifts across my skin, soft and gentle, skimming over my clit, circling, teasing, and delving lower.
“You do that well.” I whimper as he eases a finger inside and clench, ready for more, wanting to drown in sensation, in connection, in desire. He curls his fingers, and I arch, eyes falling closed, lips parting on a sigh. I roll my hips when he does it again and groan when that delicious pressure disappears.
My eyes snap open, and I turn just in time to watch his glistening finger disappear between his lips. He makes a deep sound in the back of his throat. Primal. Feral. He looks like he wants to devour me. That familiar ache flares low in my belly.
“I couldn’t wait.” BJ’s voice is low and rough, and I swear I feel it like a caress between my thighs.
I wrap my hand around the back of his neck and kiss him, pressing my tongue against his, tasting my own desire. I hook my leg over his and pull him on top of me. He braces his weight on a forearm, but his hips sink, and I feel his length against my stomach. I push his boxers over his hips until his cock springs free and I can feel that glorious steel ball rubbing on my skin.
BJ’s lips find mine again, our kiss slow and deep. We grind against each other, skin hot and slick, desire building and pooling. Eventually he kisses a path along the edge of my jaw and over my chest. His stubble scrapes my skin in the most delicious way when he stops to devote attention to my nipples. And he keeps going, lower, over my stomach, past my navel.
He teases me with nips and kisses along the juncture of my thigh. And when I whisper please, he finally licks up the length of me. I bow off the bed and clamp a hand over my mouth to keep from moaning too loud—especially when he french kisses my clit and fucks me with his tongue, like he promised.
