Undecided(45)

I nod, not sure I can speak. My heart bounces around my chest as he carefully peels the denim down my legs, leaving me in only a purple thong. I see his throat bob as he swallows, then he reaches down to the floor for his jacket and pulls out his wallet, retrieving a condom and tossing it onto my milk crate night table. He smiles at me before pushing the spandex over his hips, past mouth-wateringly muscular thighs and strong calves. When he catches me looking he shyly fists his erection, the fingers of his other hand playing with the lace edge of my thong.

“Lift your hips.”

I can barely breathe. Just looking at him makes me want to squirm in anticipation. Never in my admittedly short sexual lifespan have I wanted someone so badly that just looking at them made me wet. But I am wet, and I know Crosbie sees it because he makes a pained little groan when I lift my hips so he can slide the silky fabric down my legs, then gently nudges my thighs apart to look between them.

He lowers himself over me, elbows digging into the mattress on either side of my head, and pushes a stray hair behind my ear, sliding his lips back and forth across mine, in absolutely no hurry at all. I turn my head to look at the full-length mirror propped against the desk, angled just enough that I can see Crosbie’s perfect ass positioned over me, so tempting I have to resist the urge to flip him over to look at it up close.

Not that I could budge him, even if I wanted to. Though he’s being very conscientious about not crushing me, just the weight of one of his legs between my thighs is enough to remind me how big he is. How strong.

“Hey,” he says softly, lifting his head to look at me.

“What?”

“Have you done this before?”

The question startles me, but eventually I nod. “Yes,” I manage. It reminds me of how little we know about each other. How last year if you’d asked me how Crosbie Lucas f*cked I’d have said he did it like a porn star, all ass slapping and hair pulling, boasting to his friends afterward. All style and no substance. But the guy over me now isn’t the obnoxious jock I thought I knew, just like I’m not the responsible bookworm he thinks he knows. And when he nods and glides a hand between my legs, the relief on his face when he finds me wet and ready is almost palpable. I moan when he pushes one finger inside, then spread my legs wider when he stretches me with two, f*cking gently as he kisses my mouth, eyes open, gauging my response.

I had a couple of orgasms with my partners last year, nothing mind-blowing or exceptional, just perfunctory, okay-we’re-on-the-right-track orgasms, but they never felt half as good as Crosbie Lucas’s fingers and the promises they’re making right now.

“Crosbie—” I gasp as he rubs the heel of his hand over my clit.

“You okay?”

“It feels—”

“Say whatever you want,” he says when I forget the rest of the sentence. “I’ll do whatever you want.”

“I think I might—” I don’t know if I should be embarrassed that I’m going to come this easily, but Crosbie’s cocky grin and intensified fingering tells me he’s not bothered by it at all. He kisses me rough and wet, his hand rubbing in all the right ways, and before I’m fully ready I come, deep waves of desire radiating from my center, through my legs, curling my toes.

I moan into his mouth and he strokes my cheek as though he’s encouraging me, egging me on. And I don’t care anymore about anything, only how good this feels. How if every name on that stupid bathroom wall was practice that led to this moment, I’m absolutely okay with it.

I turn my face away and struggle to control my breathing as Crosbie slowly eases his hand from between my legs. He gives me a minute, busying himself with my breasts, his tongue circling my tight nipples, mouth sucking lightly. I feel his knuckles bump against my inner thigh and lift my head to see him slowly jacking himself with the hand that was just inside me, using my juices as lubrication.

“Crosbie,” I whisper, reaching for the condom.

“You need a sec?” He searches my face as he uses his teeth to open the packet. I shake my head and he rests back on his heels as he rolls on the condom, propping my legs wide apart and gazing intently at my *.

Okay, that’s embarrassing. I’m wet and exposed and he—

“Hey,” he says.

I realize I’m staring determinedly at the wall. “What?”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“What are you thinking about?” Despite the fact that he’s got a raging hard-on and a willing vagina ten inches away, he’s not making any move to put it in.

“It’s just a little embarrassing,” I mutter, scrubbing a hand over my face.

“What is?”

I wave a hand toward my vagina. “Having someone stare at it!”

He wrinkles his nose and laughs. “Nora, you’re hilarious.”

“I’m not trying to be funny.”

“You want to look at mine?”

“I did look.”

“You want to look closer?” He’s stroking the insides of my calves, his fingers tickling the soft skin behind my knees.

“Are you asking me to blow you?”

He smiles. “No. Not this time.” He hooks his hands under my legs and lifts them high and wide, but before I can be mortified he comes down over me, one arm on the pillow beside my head, the other guiding his cock between my legs. “Can I?”