***
I stand in front of Rush with nothing on but his jersey.
No panties.
No bra.
No ego.
This isn’t what he brought me back to his house to do. He genuinely wanted to talk things through, because God knows there’s a lot to discuss, but we have plenty of time for that later. Right now I need physical touch from him and I need it badly.
“I know we have a lot to talk about.”
“We do,” he agrees while sitting in the center of the modular couch in the den.
“But I’ve been thinking about this moment ever since I wrapped your hand before the game,” I say.
I watch as his freshly showered dick grows hard right before my eyes in his basketball shorts, ready to have me at any minute.
“Rush,” I breathe out his name. “I need you.”
“It’s been five weeks of pure hell for me, Bird.”
“And me too.”
“You can’t just walk up in here and demand some dick like everything’s okay ‘cause it ain’t.”
He grabs his cock and strokes himself.
“I wouldn’t dare to presume.”
“Lift my jersey and spread your legs open for me.”
I do as I’m told.
“Touch yourself,” I tell her. “Touch your pussy for me.”
I keep my eyes focused intently on Rush as I play between my folds.
“Slide one of your fingers inside your pussy.”
I again do as I’m told, finding just the right spot and closing my eyes.
“Are you wet, Bird?”
“So wet.” I tease.
He lifts his t-shirt over his head and I lick my lips as I watch the ripple of his muscles underneath all of his ink.
“Bird, come take my shorts off.”
I walk forward, hooking my fingers into the waistband of his shorts and slide them down his legs. When his dick springs forth to life and angrily bobs up and down in front of me, I lick my lips again.
Rush places the beanbag chair on the floor in between his legs.
“Are you hungry for it, Mia?”
“Yes.”
