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“You should have worn flats,” Will comments, as my hold on his arm tightens to a death grip for the hundredth time tonight.
I went all out for our date tonight. Styled my hair, full face of makeup, my skimpiest lingerie. Plus a short, strapless dress and shoes with a tall, thin heel that have threatened to snap off all night.
“You said you liked my outfit.” Not only did he say that, he’s barely looked away from me since picking me up a few hours ago.
“I love your outfit. I also love being able to feel my arm. You’re cutting off circulation.”
“Not my fault you had to park all the way down the street and there are cobblestones.”
He sighs as I stumble yet again. “It would be faster to carry you.”
“I’m fine with that,” I reply.
One of my favorite things about Will is that he never backtracks. No matter the situation, he follows through. And right now is no exception. He pauses, and in a split-second, I’m literally swept off my feet. He continues walking like carrying me is completely normal, ignoring the startled looks from a few passersby. His hand brushes my ass before settling on my thigh. I know what he’s doing even before he says, “You’d better be wearing underwear.”
“You’d better check when we get to my apartment.”
His hold on me tightens, and I smile.
Dinner was perfect. The food was delicious, and the company was even better. I had this part of the evening in the back of my mind all night, though. We both got mango lassis at dinner, neither of us having a drop of alcohol.
I could use some now to combat the nerves swirling in my stomach. I’m relieved Will already knows this will be a new experience for me. At least I haven’t had to anticipate having that conversation all night.
He doesn’t set me down until we’re directly outside my apartment door. He’s not even breathing heavily from the exertion, appearing totally nonchalant as I look through my bag for my keys. But then I catch a twitch in his jaw out of the corner of my eye as I disengage my lock, the tiny motion setting off a series of reactions in my body. My heart races and my fingers fumble as we step inside my apartment.
I flick on the light, he shuts the door, and then we collide.
Any worries about him not wanting this as much as me vanish as Will kisses me. His hands roam and his tongue explores, the press of his lips against mine so controlling and commanding. He’s consuming me, it feels like. Ravaging my mouth.
He pulls away first, leaving me breathless and stunned. Panting and bereft, my pussy throbbing and clenching around nothing. In just a few seconds, I fell in love with what his mouth against mine felt like all over again. This feels like the first time I’m getting to touch him because it’s the first time I haven’t been worried he was about to stop.
We’re dating. Sort of. Maybe. We just went on a date; the best one I’ve ever been on. And he told me he doesn’t share, which felt like a claim.
His tongue licks a hot stripe down the side of my neck, making my knees tremble. It feels like I’m melting. Malleable. Overheated with arousal and overwhelmed with trust. I’ve never been able to fully let go with a guy before, always had reservations lingering in the back of my mind. But with Will, it’s so easy to let go. I feel safe with him, cherished and protected. There have been other guys I was insanely attracted to. But I never felt this burning need to touch them.
I’m dying to touch Will. My palms dragging down the center of his chest feels like a form of relief. A finally. Even through the shirt he’s wearing, I can feel the ridges and bumps of his abdomen, reminding me how ridiculously in shape he is. I reach the waistband of his jeans, fumbling with the button and zipper. My excitement rising when the denim parts. When he doesn’t tell me, You don’t need to, or another fucking, It’s fine.
He has that defined V that points right to his cock, which I’ve never found that attractive before. It seemed like showing off, like a guy was vain and self-absorbed or more likely to spend time at the gym than thinking about you. But Will is this in shape because it’s his job. On him, a professional football player, the distinctive ridges are insanely sexy. And I’m glad he has no idea what I’m thinking, because I’m sure he’d tease me about how much I “hate” the sport again.
My fingers brush through the dusting of hair below his belly button, following the line lower and lower. His entire body is a work of art, like one of the sculptures at the museum we visited together.
I sink to my knees right next to the rack that stores part of my sizable shoe collection, too eager to get all the way to my bedroom. Emboldened by the heated look that flashes across Will’s face as he registers the movement and realizes my exact intentions. Hoping that means he’s done holding back.
He fists his cock, running the flared head across my parted lips. My entire body feels like it’s vibrating, so overstimulated that I can’t focus on any one sensation.
The vein that runs the length of his shaft is raised and pulsing. His abs are clenched tight. My tongue darts out to lap at the bead of moisture on the thick head. Then I pull back a couple of inches, blowing on the damp tip. I’ve seen his cock before, but never this close. There’s no way I’ll be able to fit that many inches in my mouth. And I’m a little worried about my vagina, how he’s possibly going to fit inside of me when we have sex.
“I’ve thought about doing this to you a lot,” I confess.
Then lean forward, humming when I feel his thick length invade my mouth for the first time. The weight of his erection settles on my tongue, and I fight the urge to cough or gasp. I’m so full, the head hitting the back of my throat and cutting off my air. Will groans when I swallow, my throat tightening around the tip. I pull in a deep breath through my nose, my eyes prickling with unshed tears.
“Sophia.” My name comes out rough and ragged, tensed, like he’s holding back.
I don’t want him to hold back. I want to make him lose his mind.
I can feel him reacting to the suction as I hollow my cheeks, his dick hardening and swelling even more. He tastes salty and sinful, leaking down my throat. A persistent pulse pounds between my legs in response, hot and heavy. My hold on his thighs tightens, my nails pressing into his skin hard enough to leave marks, as I move my mouth along his cock.
“Fuck. You look—fuck.” Will finally touches me, brushing the hair that’s fallen forward back and away from my face. He wraps the long strands around his fist, his hips starting to rock in a steady rhythm. “You look so good with your lips around my cock. Is this what you’ve been wanting, baby? Why you were pouting last night? You wanted me to fuck this perfect mouth? You wanted to be on your knees for me like a dirty girl?”
