“I’m going to that bonfire party this Saturday,” I end up saying.
I wait for him to pull away, but he doesn’t. “Me too,” he breathes and lightly kisses me on the lips.
“I’m going to have sex there.”
“I’m going to get wasted.” He presses his lips quickly to mine once more and then rubs his thumb over the sensitive skin on my ear. I practically shudder at the touch.
“Lo.”
“Lily.” His fingers drop to his button. I stare in fixation at the small movements.
Somehow I’m able to mutter, “I didn’t get you anything.”
His lips quirk but he doesn’t say anything else. I can see the hem of his boxer-briefs, and I realize I have to move away from him so he can slide his pants completely off. I detach myself, scooting back as the spot between my legs throbs.
My mind charges into convince-mode. I can do this. I can stop myself from something worse happening. He said I get to keep my clothes on. That means no sex. That means we can do this and it’ll still be okay.
His flask slips out of his pants as he jerks them off. I pick it up easily, debating on taking a large swig. Maybe it’ll ease my warring thoughts. Silencing either the part of me that says stop or the other that says fuck yeah.
Now in his boxer-briefs, Lo turns and sees me with his alcohol. He takes it quickly from me, his eyes still light. He raises his drink. “Mine,” he says. He takes my hand in his and places it over the bulge in his boxer-briefs. “Yours.”
Ohhhhh…shit. I’m doomed.
I think I should remove my hand, especially since normal people would probably jerk back at this point. But something keeps it right there. On him.
He doesn’t seem surprised by this. In fact, he continues to strip in front of me, unbuttoning his shirt and tugging it off. It feels like my birthday or something, only I have to keep reminding myself that this is Lo and not some stripper in one of my fantasies.
Now nearly naked, I pull my hand away, and he playfully folds the hem of his boxer-briefs. I gasp and he grins. “On or off, love? Your choice.”
My brain zeros out into nothingness. It cannot compute his question. “I’ll take that as a you can’t handle it,” he says huskily and leaves his underwear on. No. I definitely cannot handle seeing his dick right now. I can barely handle breathing at this point.
He climbs onto my body and leans in for another deep kiss. It’s different feeling bare skin against my fully-clothed body. With my conquests, it’s usually the other way around. I like this though. Running my hands over his bare back and down to his ass. My body pulses for something more, and I hear his words like a chorus in my head—I want to make you come. All protests and sensibility leave my mind completely.
His kisses suddenly turn feathery light again, teasing me a little. When he lands another PG-kiss on my lips, I let out a long groan. I can barely take this much longer. I am not a Disney Princess. I do not swoon over kissing unless it involves tongue and force and leads to other lustful events.
Deciding to take matters into my own hands…or hips, I buck up a little so that our pelvises meet. The contact feels much better. I just…need to be closer.
Lo pushes my body down in response and presses into me, the hardness in his pants grinding against the ache in between my legs. His lips turn from light to determined, devouring mine with rapt attention. And as he rubs against me, the tension escalates, pushing my body into a hyperaware state. Every touch sets me off, and all I want right now is for my clothes to disappear. For me to feel him inside. For the ache to be taken away with a thrust and a blissful high.
My trembling hands try to grip the bottom of my shirt and yank it off. I get it halfway up before Lo stops moving and puts his hand on mine. “No. Your clothes stay on,” he breathes. His lips are red and raw, and I can barely move my eyes off them.
I blink.
Lo pulls each finger off my shirt and then laces them with his. His lips find the nape of my neck and then glide to my earlobe, nibbling and kissing. My hips lift as he presses down, and I can feel him getting harder and harder, adding to my arousal. His lips move down to my chest, tracing their way even further across my shirt, his hands tight against my hips.
He kisses me again, his tongue flicking into my mouth.
I’m dying inside. I want more.
I lift my hips and this time he grabs my ass and squeezes. Hard. I let out a long moan and my body shudders. He keeps me tight against him, as his hands move and knead my inner thighs all the way up. Slowly. Slowly. Slowly. Avoiding that one spot that demands attention.