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That sultry voice turns my semi into a ridge of granite, and when she unzips my jeans, then yanks down my boxer briefs, it springs free—hungry and eager to party.
“Well, hello, beautiful.” Her giggle is relaxed and breathy.
I should stop this.
But then she wraps her fingers around my shaft and I’m blinded for a second. The moment the tip of her tongue licks that bead of moisture off my head, I let out an aching groan that makes all thought impossible.
Her sweet lips suck me while her fingers grip the base of my cock and scatter stars across my vision. It’s impossible not to sink my fingers into her hair, not to let out a guttural moan. I’m gonna blow like a fucking fireworks display in her mouth.
Clenching my butt cheeks, I try to hold out, gain some control.
No cum for a month.
The thought hits me and is then followed by a succession of painful darts.
She’s drunk.
You can’t sleep with her.
You don’t want to walk around campus naked.
Don’t take this risk.
It’s just a blow job.
No one has to know.
I’llknow!
Be the better man.
Be a man of your word.
Fuck! I can’t let this happen.
“Wait,” I rasp. “Just… wait.” I jerk back, gently pushing on her shoulders until her lips pop off the end of my cock. My body aches with the abrupt loss while she looks up with a confused frown. But then her eyes seem to light with understanding, and she flops back on the bed and starts pushing the dress straps off her shoulders.
“What are you doing?”
“I want you. Let’s do it.” Her words are slow and slurred, which helps me battle off the near overwhelming temptation.
She’s not wearing a bra, and those nipples of hers are sexy as sin. Pink and puckered, begging me to suck them again.
I close my eyes and grit out, “I’m not sure that’s a great idea. You’re wasted.”
“I can still turn you on, baby.” She giggles, and she’s not wrong. When I open my eyes and catch a glimpse of her exposed torso, I can barely breathe.
I want to touch, explore every inch of that smooth skin with my fingertips, then follow it up with my tongue. I want to yank that dress off her hips, spread those legs, and?—
The bet. Remember the fucking bet!
I wince, snapping my eyes shut again.
“What’s wrong?”
“Uh…” I scrape my fingers through my hair. My hands are shaking as I fight for control and scramble for an answer that doesn’t give away the truth. I’m not supposed to tell anyone.
I’ve never hated Asher more.
