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“Well, I was thinking you could come all over my tits.”
“Your bare tits, you mean. So you’ve got no clothes on.”
“Of course. I mean, I’m imagining you unbuttoning most of what I’m wearing. Probably so you can fondle me while I suck your cock. But if you wouldn’t be bothered about doing that, I could easily keep everything on.”
“Yeah, no, that’s very much not what I want.”
“Tell me then, what you do want. Tell me, and I will.”
“Take it off. Take your clothes off for me, right now.”
But here was the best part: she actually wanted to. Somehow, against all the usual odds, he made her want to. Not just feel comfortable with it, not just feel okay, but want to, in a way she didn’t even feel capable of fighting. She just stood as soon as he said it and started doing it. She started unbuttoning that jacket.
And sure, her hands were shaking a little.
Yes, it made her cheeks heat to just be here in the middle of his daylight-bright living room, right in front of him, peeling off her completely unsexy outfit. But it also weirdly felt good. Like this kind of thing could be a whole turn-on, under the right circumstances and with the right person.
Though she didn’t know how this was either of those two things.
They’d just talked, rather mechanically, about getting it out of their systems.
And he was still the incredibly handsome, incredibly fit, incredibly funny and charming famous ex-footballer that he had been before. Really, any of those factors should have sent her into a tailspin of trying to stay fully clothed at all times. She’d been with men half as attractive and in demand as him, and still felt too nervous to completely strip down. To do anything other than pick lingerie that made her look perfect, and pretty colors that made her feel confident.
Because no matter how much you loved your curves, there was always a chance whoever you were with wouldn’t. And yet somehow, those same feelings didn’t seem to be happening here.
It was inexplicable.
Until she got to the zipper on her skirt.
Because she struggled, for just a second. She couldn’t quite get it down—it snagged, and she cursed at it. And then she felt his hand on her leg. Gentle as anything, just stroking there in a way that was good, that was hot, that did it for her no question about it. But it did something else, too.
It showed her how much he loved what he saw.
And so did the heated look in his eyes.
And what he said as she let her skirt drop.
“That’s it, that’s my gorgeous good girl,” he murmured.
After which, she had to admit, her state of mind wasn’t just easy about everything. It was ready to sink right down into his arms. She had to force herself to stay on her feet—and she was glad she managed, too. Because this way she got to see the look on his face as she slid her knickers down:
All wondering eyes and parted lips.
Like part of him had known she would.
But couldn’t quite believe she had, anyway.
He’d thought she would stop before she got to this:
Her very bare and very slick cunt, just there for him to drink in. And hediddrink it in. He devoured every inch of that swollen seam and sparse black hair and the glistening mess she’d already made of herself. Then just as she thought she couldn’t take another second of this intense scrutiny, he leaned forward.
He leaned forward, and helicked.
Like he had said he would, like he had told her.
Only somehow a million times more arousing than he had made it sound. Because he’d made it seem hot, that was true. But he hadn’t really gone into details. He hadn’t been specific about how he would go about it. And how he went about it was just beyond the fucking beyond.
He didn’t do it fast and sure.
