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“And, sometimes, I want to get myself off. On my own.”
A slow grin draws up my mouth. “So that’s what this is about.”
“It’s not funny!”
“No. It’s not. Sorry. Hey.” I cup her face. “We don’t have to put labels on it. Okay? No sweat.”
“I’m sorry. It was really sweet of you to invite me.”
“I’m a sweet guy.”
“You’re too sweet.”
“Not that sweet.” To prove my point, I catch her bottom lip between my teeth. She gasps.
That noise shoots a jolt straight to my cock. I get an idea.
I kick off my shoes and climb onto the bed. I slip my fingers through her hair, kiss her, and murmur, “Get in my lap.”
“What are you doing?”
“Compromising.”
She does, straddling me. I love the feel of her—her gentle weight.
I kiss underneath her ear. Her throat. And I murmur there, “Show me how you do it.”
“Do what?”
“Pleasure yourself.”
She bites her own lip.
She slips her hand down her belly, and I watch her fingers vanish underneath her sweatpants.
Her sweatpants are baggy—I can’t see the way her fingers are strumming her sex, but I imagine it must be good because her eyelids flutter. Her breath catches suddenly, as though she hit a particularly pleasurable spot. That sound nearly makes me break out of my pants.
But I don’t. I’m aching, but it’s a sweet ache—I love this. I love the way Kenzi looks wrapped up in ecstasy, and I want to savor every second of this. I slip my hands up her legs, which tighten around my hips in response.
She’s so worked up. Her head bows, and she hiccups her breaths, rapid, sweet gasps.
I push her further. I tease her and nibble the sensitive skin on her throat. I draw a hand up her body and tug her sweater over her head. Her pigtail falls messily as I tug the sweater from her and toss it to the ground. I cup her soft breast in my hand and drag my thumb over her hardened nipple. I can tell she’s sensitive, because the small touch makes her shudder.
“You’re beautiful,” I tell her, “do you know that?”
She drops her head against mine. “I need you inside of me,” she moans. Her voice is breathy.
I don’t need to be told twice. I need it, too.
I unbuckle my pants. I wiggle them off my hips as far as they’ll go and tug my cock out of my briefs. I’m so aroused that even the small touch of my own hand makes the whole organ buzz.
I reach into my wallet and tug out a condom. I free the latex from its plastic and stretch it down my length. Kenzi watches the process and wets her lips with the tip of her tongue—she looks hungry, and I’m ready to satisfy her.
I tug her sweatpants and panties from her hips, and she squirms to get them off her legs. Once she’s free, she climbs in closer. I guide my tip between her nether lips and sink myself into her heat. She moans and lowers her hips, taking me in deeper. Slowly, she slides down me until I’m buried inside of her, and she’s snug in my lap.
I take the side of her face in my hand and kiss her. I swallow her tongue in my mouth. She’s sloppy, breathless, and she starts to grind herself in small thrusts in my lap.
“Don’t stop touching yourself,” I murmur against her lips.
