“A reward for your younger self.” She smiles at me over her shoulder. “Pull it.”
I reach up to grab it, my knuckles grazing her spine in the process. I want to reach out and kiss her there, follow the trail all the way up her spine but I stop myself. My fingers wrap around the end of one of the ties. The top is loosely tied, on purpose I would guess, and one small tug is going to have it falling down.
I roll my tongue against the inside of my cheek as my dick stirs to life in my pants. The anticipation is killing me, and I pull, watching as the material goes slack but catches slightly around her neck. A little flick and it finishes unknotting and tumbles off, sliding down the front of her chest.
She pulls the second lower tie, and the top is off, falling down in between us. She leans back against the headboard and my mouth goes dry as my eyes travel over her breasts. They’re full with two perfect pink nipples that are already beading up under my watch.
“Fuck,” I curse under my breath, wishing I had better words but all the usual charming things I’d have at my disposal disappear, like always with her.
I want so badly to reach out and touch her, but I don’t trust myself, and instead my hand goes to my aching dick. I run my palm over my length, trying to quench the need. Her eyes track my movements, and she pulls her lower lip up between her teeth.
“I want to know how you watched me,” she whispers.
The words make my heart take on a fast pace, one I usually only feel when I take off down field for a long ball, desperately hoping for a touchdown.
“Know, or see?” My tone sounds desperate to my own ears, but I don’t care.
“See,” she answers without hesitating.
I go to slide my hand under the sweatpants, only too happy to do what she’s asking.
“I want to really see you,” she whispers again, so softly I almost don’t know if I heard her.
My eyes go to hers, searching for confirmation.
“If you’re comfortable, I mean,” she adds.
I nod, and then slide off the bed. Standing to pull my shirt off, and then I slide my hands under both my pants and the boxer briefs I have on under them and take them off too. I hesitate before I turn around because I’m fucking nervous. Nervous that I’m still not going to be enough for her. Because I’m not perfect. I’m not the most muscular. I don’t have the biggest dick. Some of the scars football has left me with, like the one where one of my ribs popped through my chest freshman year are more gnarly than sexy. And if she looks at me like I’m lacking, it’s going to hurt in a way no other woman doing the same could.
“You don’t have to. I can go back to my room,” she says the words so softly, so tenderly that it might break me.
“I’m good,” I say with more confidence in my tone than I feel and turn around to climb on the bed next to her.
I try not to look at her but when I hear the little hitch in her breathing I glance up as her hand goes to her throat, her thumb stroking the little valley at the center where it meets the top of her chest. I stop and look up at her, searching her face.
“Sorry. I just… you’re very fucking attractive,” she apologizes and her eyes dart to the side.
“Don’t apologize. It feels good to hear you think something’s improved in five years. Everything about you has.”
And fuck, I cannot stop staring at her. A shy little grin breaks out across her face, and my fingers itch to touch her.
“You sure it’s okay?” she asks, a vein of worry still in her tone.
“Definitely.” I nod.
“Okay.”
Her hands fall away from her throat, giving me a full view of her again and she straightens her spine, leaning back against my headboard. She rolls her shoulders like she’s trying to get comfortable, and the movement makes her breasts bounce ever so slightly drawing my eyes back to them. Making me wish I could take one of her nipples in my mouth, roll my tongue over the tip.
I’m so hard, so fucking ready to burst I stroke myself to take the edge off, and her eyes are drawn to it like a magnet. Her tongue slides over her lower lip, and I swear I can feel it up the side of my dick. Feel her breath on me.
She looks so fucking perfect, and I wish I could go back and tell my sixteen-year-old self that this would be worth the wait. To have her here in front of me, watching me while I watch her. I slide my hand up and down, giving myself more and less friction until I hit the right pace. It’s torture, but I want to draw this out for as long as possible.
She shifts again, rolling her hips this time and she clenches her thighs together, her eyes glued to where my hand pumps my cock. A bead of precum is already forming at the tip. Her tongue darts out again, and I want to beg her to use it on me. And I need something, anything to distract me from that thought.
“Touch yourself for me,” I say before I can think better of it. “Over the leggings,” I add because if she loses anymore clothing, I will be a fucking goner.
She doesn’t hesitate, her hand immediately sliding between her thighs like she was just waiting for me to tell her to do it. Her hand is in the shadows and against the black leggings I can’t see much but it’s enough that it gives me the distraction I need. Especially when I hear her breathing pick up pace.
