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She moans and wraps her arms around my neck, allowing me to guide her in bouncing on my cock. I lean in and kiss her deeply, burying my face in her neck, and I maintain a rapid pace as I thrust into her. The intensity is building, and I'm determined to push her to her climax so I can follow.
"Play with your clit," I instruct her.
She obeys, reaching between us to rub small circles on her sexy clit. I can feel her tightening around my cock as she spasms and releases. She moans and grinds against me, prolonging her orgasm, which, in turn, triggers my own release. I empty into the condom while still inside her, our pleasure and connection reaching a heightened peak.
As much as I'd love to indulge in repeated passionate moments with Sutton, I understand that she doesn't always appreciate the mess it leaves behind. She's particular about cleanliness.
Sutton is limp in my arms, and I feel utterly spent. I quickly rise, helping her up and guiding us over to my bed for some much-needed rest. We lie down so that our heads rest on my pillow, and I gather her close to my chest.
She turns her body, looping her arms around my neck and slipping one of her legs between mine as she snuggles in. In a hushed voice, she whispers, "I hope no one saw us."
I freeze, perplexed by the contradiction. "I thought you liked the idea of people watching?"
Sutton squirms in my embrace as she contemplates how to answer my question. The truth is, I'm not entirely sure what I like in this regard either. Everything we've done so far is new to both of us, and what just transpired pushed us far outside our comfort zones. But there's no denying that it was more than satisfying.
She takes a deep breath and seems to find her words. "I like the idea that they know you're making me feel good… I like the idea that someone can see how much you l-love f-fucking me." She falters slightly at the end, but I can tell she's making an effort to explain her feelings. I'm proud of her for sharing her thoughts with me.
I hold Sutton even tighter, reassuring her, "Sweetheart, you're absolutely perfect. I want to give you whatever you want."
With a teasing smile, she whispers back, "Same." She rests her chin on my chest and gazes up at me. "I like what we normally do, but that was fun."
"I like what we normally do too," I reply, and she leans up to kiss me, starting softly but quickly deepening the kiss. She eventually breaks away, panting, and says, "I'm hungry."
I chuckle at the abrupt shift in her mood. "You have to use the bathroom first."
She looks a bit exhausted as she sighs, "Kay."
We both climb out of bed, and she follows behind me slowly as we head toward the door. I open it and wait for her to pass, giving her a playful slap on the ass. She responds with a screech, "That hurt!"
"Get a move on," I tease. "I'm hungry too."
I reach for her again, but she deftly dodges me and slips into the bathroom before I can grab her once more.
CHAPTERTHIRTY-TWO
SUTTON
Lincolnand I stand near the front door of a fancy restaurant not far from our campus. He's casually leaning against a brick wall, while I nervously pace back and forth. For the last ten minutes, my mind has been racing through various scenarios about why my parents suddenly wanted to meet.
I've chosen to wear a dress that I knew my parents would approve of—a white silk mini dress with a square neckline and cap sleeves. It's both appropriate and cute, and the last thing I want is for my mother to nitpick my appearance.
"Are you ready?" Lincoln asks, breaking my internal monologue.
I stop pacing and turn to look at my boyfriend. "Yes," I reply, reaching down to smooth out my already wrinkle-free dress.
Lincoln closes the gap between us, stepping into my personal space. He slides his hand around to gently grasp the back of my neck. "Sweetheart, you've got this," he assures me. Simultaneously, he tilts my head up while bending down, and our lips meet in a sweet, reassuring kiss.
Reluctantly, he pulls away as I attempt to chase his mouth with my own, not wanting our connection to break. He indulges me with one last peck on the lips and chuckles before taking my hand and leading me toward the restaurant's entrance.
We step into the upscale restaurant, the one my father sent me the address and time for via text earlier in the day. The message was straightforward, containing only an address and a time—no other details.
I hadn't been aware that my parents were in town, let alone wanting to have dinner with me. I'm uncertain about the purpose of tonight, but it's clear they have something to tell me. Choosing a public place implies that they don't want my reaction to be overly emotional.
As Lincoln holds the restaurant door open for me, I can't help but apologize yet again. "I'm so, so, so sorry."
He gently guides me to the host stand with a comforting hand on my lower back. "I told you to stop saying that."
"Thank you for doing this with me," I repeat, for what feels like the twentieth time today.
