Exactly where I want him.
I crawl forward just a little more, placing one hand on his thigh to steady myself — and to watch the way his breath stutters.
"Babe," he rasps, voice wrecked around the edges. "What are you doing to me?"
I lower myself over him, hovering just above his torso, my hair cascading down like a curtain between us.
"Making up for lost time," I whisper.
And then — with my eyes locked on his...
I press the nozzle of the whipped cream to the warm skin at the center of his chest.
A softpsshhtfills the air as a swirl of white cream lands on him.
His entire body jolts — a sharp inhale, a helpless groan he tries (and fails) to swallow down.
"Holy—" He cuts himself off, head tipping back, eyes fluttering shut for a second before snapping open again, darker than before. "Caroline."
I smile, leaning in until my lips are just a breath away from the line of whipped cream across his chest.
"Don't move," I whisper.
His throat bobs.
"I won't survive this."
"That's the point."
The corner of my mouth lifts as I lower myself another inch — slowly, deliberately — ready to taste him, ready to savor the way he comes undone beneath me.
And Zach?
He's already half gone.
I hover over Zach like a fucking goddess of temptation, my hair framing my face in a sinful halo. My breath catches as I lean in, my lips brushing the whipped cream pooled on his chest.
Thepsshhtfrom the can was my starter pistol—and now I'm ready to sprint.
I flick my tongue out, slow and deliberate, dragging it through the cream. It tastes sweet, but the sound he makes is even sweeter.
He groans—a deep, guttural vibration that shoots through my entire body. His abs clench beneath my tongue, and I feel his cock twitch against my thigh, trapped in his pants like a prisoner.
"Fuck, Caroline," he gasps, voice ragged, hands gripping the sheets like they'll keep him grounded. "You're... you're killing me."
I smirk against his skin and trail my lips lower, following the line of cream down his torso. My tongue swirls around his navel, and he groans again—louder, more desperate.
His cock presses hot and hard against my thigh, and my pussy clenches in response.
My fingers hook into the waistband of his sweatpants, teasingly slow.
"Don't move," I whisper, voice dripping with wicked intent.
My hands tremble as I ease the fabric down, inch by agonizing inch. My breath comes faster, my heart pounding like a drum.
This is it—my first time doing this.
Doubts swirl in my mind:What if I'm bad at it? What if I can't make him feel good?
