“It’s in the bedside table,” I say, quickly pulling down the corner of the blankets. Maybe it’ll be less weirdly intense if I’m beneath them.
I look on idly as she opens the drawer for the remote, realizing too late why she’s paused, staring inside at the contents. She holds up the box of condoms, raising a shrewd eyebrow at me.
“Whoa, okay, wait.” I raise my hands defensively. “First of all, Liesel stocks those. My dad has a really hard-ass policy about never knocking a girl up. It’s practically built into the paperwork for our trust funds. Second, if you look closely, you’ll notice that it’s never even been opened. I’ve never had sex with a girl in this bed. In this room, even.”
‘In this house’ is on the tip of my tongue, but there had been a particularly rowdy New Year's Eve party last year that resulted in some minor hot tub shenanigans.
“Never?” Her tone is suspicious.
“Not even close. You’re the only girl I’ve ever brought home. Why do you think Liesel was eyeing you so closely today?”
She hums, tapping the box of condoms on her chin. “I guess I figured she thought I was some girl looking to get knocked up and steal your trust fund.” She gives me a sarcastic grin, but it holds more amusement than heat.
Realizing that she’s enjoying seeing me all flustered like this, I snatch the box from her hands and fling it aside, ducking down to kiss her lips. She kisses me back with a laugh, leaning into me, and I fight the urge to pull her on my lap.
When we part, I say, “You can have anything that’s mine, Sugar Voss. Trust fund. Kittens. I’d give you my virginity if I still had it.”
“Same,” she says, hand landing on my bare chest. “Well, the kittens and virginity. I don’t have a trust fund.”
I blink back at her, blood rushing through my body. Did she just say what I heard her say? Does that mean she wants to have sex with me? Right now? No. No. It’s just regret over the bad time with that fucker up on the cliffs, who was nice, but apparently a really lousy lay. That’s all.
I rub my face and look back at the black TV screen before I fuck everything up. “Did you find the remote?” My voice comes out a lot more even than I feel, especially given the way she’s pressed all up against my side. In my bed. Alone.
Sugar doesn’t move, just looks at me. “Really? You’ve got no follow up to that statement?”
“Um…” My neck prickles with heat. “I feel like this may be a trick question.”
“I’m sitting in your bed, Bass, with no pants on.” I try to look surprised, but she rolls her eyes. “Don’t act like you didn’t notice. I’m kind of putting out a lot of signals here.”
I give her a tight smile. “I’ve been wrong about your signals before.”
She sighs, putting a hand on my cheek to turn my face to hers. “How’s this for a signal? Fuck me.”
I search her eyes, too scared to hope. “Don’t tease me, Sugar.”
“Who’s teasing?” As if to punctuate this point, she pulls the sweatshirt over her head, discarding it somewhere on the floor. She’s not wearing a bra. She’s not wearing anything, except for that dark pair of panties I’d glimpsed earlier.
When she straddles me, those two perfect tits right in my line of sight, I can’t help but reach up and cup them in my hands. My body, which always, always wants sex, triggers instantly; pulse quickening, cock tightening. It’s like a crank being set into motion, but because I am trying so fucking hard here, I engage the brake and lift my eyes to hers. “You’re serious?”
“Yes,” she says, even though I see a seed of worry in her eyes.
I don’t know where it’s coming from, but I rush up to capture her lips, assuring her between deep, frantic kisses, “I’ll make it good for you. I swear to fucking god, Sugar, I’ll make it so good.”
Her lashes flutter against her cheek. “Then what are you waiting for?”
26
Sugar
His mouth is everywhere.
My lips, of course. That’s where he starts. Then he descends to my jaw, my neck. There’s a spot around my collarbone that gets an extended amount of attention, and then I realize it’s the hickey from before.
He sucks on the skin there, renewing it.
All the while, his hands—god, his fucking hands—are all over my tits, squeezing them together so he can dip down and lick between them. It’s dirty as hell, the way he looks, hungrily sucking at one nipple, and then the other, almost like he can’t make his mind up which.
I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t ready for him the second I stepped out of that bathroom and saw him standing there, clad in only a thin pair of boxers. It all ratchets up now, with the heaviness in the air and the way I’m rocking into his lap. I can’t get enough of his eyes like this—the way they look at me, all glazed over and lazy, even when his movements have an edge of frantic mania to them, palming at my tits, and then around my waist to grab a thick, unforgiving handful of my ass. He’s soft and hard here, meeting my gaze with a slick, parted mouth that I don’t hesitate to capture with my own.
The world turns upside down when he flips me, arms locked around my waist. His bare chest against mine takes my breath away, just as it had the night in his dorm. I wind my arms around his neck to hold him there, fingers curling desperately into his blond hair. I know he doesn’t understand, but he doesn’t make me feel weird about needing to indulge in the feeling of us, pressed together. It takes me a moment to blink out of the daze of heat and skin and touch, and by the time I do, he’s already plucking at my panties.
“I want to make you come first,” he says, hot and rough into my ear. “Want you nice and ready for me. Tell me,” he demands, nibbling at my earlobe. “Tell me you want it.”
I buck my hips into his hardness, feeling it against where I’m hot and already wet. “I want it,” I breathe, voice trembling.
He props himself up on an arm to look at me, hand feathering my hair back from my forehead. “Don’t let me fuck it up, okay? If I do something... I can stop.” At the look on my face—Christ, if he stops, I might actually fucking die—he quickly amends, “I can do better, I mean. I can do it the way you want, you just have to tell me.”
I give a rapid nod. “Yeah, okay.”
With that, he finally drags my panties down my legs, resting back on his heels to gaze down at me. He smooths his hands up my thighs, and maybe it’s because of what we did last night—because he’s already seen me—but I don’t feel that urge to curl up into myself anymore. If anything, I want to spread myself wider for him.
So that’s what I do.
His eyes drop down to my pussy and he groans, voice low and ragged. “Damn, girl. How do you want it? You want my fingers or my mouth?”
I feel the warmth of a flush spread all the way down my chest when I respond, “Yes.”
He instantly moves back to get his mouth on me, hooded eyes fixed to mine as his tongue licks a wide path up my folds. I make this awful, mortifying keen that has me clamping a hand over my own mouth.