anticipating it—maybe even hoping for it—licking slow and dirty against my seeking tongue. His fingers weave into the hair at the base of my neck, tugging me closer, and I can feel him shift on the couch, thighs flexing.
When I move to climb into his lap, he curls an arm around my waist and yanks me the rest of the way in a swift, powerful move that briefly disorients me. As soon as I feel him, hard and eager beneath me, my body erupts in a rush of white-hot need. I grind down onto him, swallowing the rough sound he makes, and when he grabs my ass, I let him guide me into a sharp, hard rock against it.
He breaks away, smirking with his red, swollen lips. “So this is how you butter guys up, huh?” He bucks his hips, squeezing my ass, and I shudder at the way he sounds. Heston’s voice always drops an octave when we’re like this. Pressing a kiss below my jaw, he adds, “I’m a bit insulted you think I’m such a cheap date.”
I rock against his hard cock, enjoying the way his jaw goes slack in response. “One, this isn’t a date, and two, I’m insulted you think I need to butter guys up when I have these.” I lift my shirt off, tossing it toward the other side of the couch.
I’d never admit it out loud, but I can’t get enough of how much Heston likes my tits. He’s instantly a little more alert, head snapping back to get an eyeful of them. “Good point,” he says, hands sliding up my back to reach for the back of my bra. He has it unhooked so fast, I barely feel his fingers against my skin when he undoes the clasp. Once the bra is gone, he leans his head back against the couch, those blue eyes drinking me in.
There’s a look he gets sometimes when we’re close like this. It’s all over his face when he reaches up to cup my tits in his hands. It’s not just the way his eyelids get heavy, tongue peeking out to wet his bottom lip. It’s a flash of unguarded wistfulness in his eyes, like he’s touching something he thinks might get taken away. It’s not careful or tentative. He still pinches my nipple a little too hard. Still gives me a devious grin when my breath hitches as a result.
No, it’s not careful.
But it’s reverent.
He pitches forward, tongue tracing a slow, lascivious loop around my stiff peak before drawing it into his mouth. As I wind my fingers into his hair, stomach swooping with the way his mouth feels on me, I consider that we don’t get enough of this. Heston is usually behind me, and even though it’s no less hot, there’s still something missing from those moments. Until right now, I hadn’t been able to put my finger on it.
It’s the way he looks at me, eyes glazed and blazing, when he breathes, “Fuck, your body is perfect.”
It’s what makes me give in to the impulse that’s been enticing me for days now. “Do you still want to do anal?”
His eyes jerk up to mine, thumb freezing halfway in its sweep across my nipple. “Huh?”
I fight back a smile at the dumb expression on his face. “Anal. You wanted to do it before. Are you still interested?”
His thumb finally moves, some of that shocked stupor fading away. “I thought you were saving it for someone nice.” The edge of his lip hooks up when he says it, like ‘nice’ is the worst thing someone could possibly be. “Weren’t you waiting for rose petals, candlelight, lavender-scented lube—real romance?”
“Oh my god,” I say, laughing suddenly. I collapse against him to hide how red my face probably is. But not for long. I rear back and strain to the side to grab for my bag, shoving a hand inside until I finally fumble for the bottle I’d brought. Giving it a wiggle, I reason, “Fuck you. Lavender smells really good!”
“Jesus, you’re so fucking predictable,” he groans, snatching the bottle of lavender-scented lube from my hand. Dryly, he adds, “If you tell me you have rose petals and candles in there, then I’ll…” He pauses, face blank. “Well, I’ll still do it, because it’s anal and I’m not an idiot, but I’d never let you live it down.”
“Come on,” I say, rolling my eyes as I rise from his lap. “I don’t need rose petals, but a