I tilt my head, inviting, and he takes his time. Always.
His hand slides to my thigh, warm and grounding, thumb brushing lightly over denim. I shiver, and he notices.
He pulls away, and his gaze holds mine for a beat, something unreadable passing through it. Then he kisses me again, deeper this time, his grip on my thigh tightening enough to make my breath hitch.
“I want you in my bed this time,” he whispers against my mouth.
I nod my head eagerly. Finally.
He stands up and grabs my hand, leading me down the hallway to a door on the left. His bedroom is the size of my entire apartment.
And the view. It’s stunning.
He has a large king bed with luxurious white bedding. The soft, plushy rug over the dark hardwood floors offers a nice contrast in the colors. The furniture looks expensive.
But I get easily distracted when he yanks my hand and flings me on the bed. I go down in a fit of laughter.
His smiling face looking down at me is the most relaxed I’ve ever seen him. Then he joins me on the bed, caging me in as he puts his thighs on the side of my hips and leans back on his heels.
“I’ve been thinking about this all day,” he says as he slowly unbuttons my silky blouse until he reveals my black bra underneath.
He pulls the material down and exposes both breasts. His lips wrap around one of my nipples, and I immediately arch my back. My hand brushes the back of his neck, then up into his hair as he licks and sucks. Then he moves to the other one.
Before I know it, I’m completely naked, and his fingers are moving inside of me as his tongue flicks with impressive strength to bring me to an explosive orgasm.
I lose myself when he does this to me. I’m a jumble of words and screams that I don’t recognize as coming from my own mouth. He moans and growls as my excitement builds.
He rolls onto his back and begins to pant his own heavy breaths as I notice his hard dick poking through his sweatpants.
I’ve seen many different styles of him in the last week. But this one—black T-shirt and gray sweatpants? This one is my favorite.
I realize he doesn’t plan on having sex. Again. But he doesn’t seem to assume that I need to reciprocate. It’s sweet, but I want to do it. I like to do it.
But I kind of want to mix it up.
I notice some lotion on his bedside table. He catches my eyes glancing in its direction.
“It’s the latex gloves. I swear.” He smiles. “They make my hands dry.”
I chuckle as I sit up and grab it, then move back down to lean on one elbow, facing him.
“I wasn’t judging,” I say as I examine the bottle. “I was actually thinking about something else.”
“Oh, yeah? What’s that?” He places an arm behind his head and looks at me curiously.
“Have you ever noticed how hot a simple hand job is?”
His eyebrows turn down. “I don’t even remember the last time I got a hand job.”
My jaw falls flat. I shake my head. “How could that be?”
He laughs. “I don’t know. I thought we aged out of hand jobs.”
That’s not true.
I place the bottle between us and grip his dick through his sweatpants. His face instantly changes.
“Do I look like I’m some inexperienced teenager?”