I turn to face him, shaking my head. “You are the view, Corey.”
He tilts his head, leaning down to kiss me. “That’s my line,” Corey murmurs against my lips. He takes the hem of my halter top and lifts it up over my head. He falls to his knees, hooking his fingers in the high waistband of my leggings, trailing kisses down the soft skin of my stomach. It takes everything in me to allow this, to not push him awayfrom a spot I so often try to hide under my clothes. There’s something almost reverent in the way Corey touches my body; he is far kinder to it than I am, that’s for sure.
Corey continues to pull my leggings down, then helps me step out of them. Realization dawns on me that I’m nearly naked and Corey’s still fully clothed.
I clear my throat and cross my arms over my chest, but under my boobs, so they’re propped up and presented nicely.
“Your turn,” I say, nodding at him.
“Of course,” Corey says as he reaches behind him to pull his Vipers jersey up and off over his head. Why is that move so sexy? Where do guys learn that shit? My mouth is already dry as he does this, but then I see beneath…
“No shirt?”
Corey shrugs, the muscles in his chest and abdomen rippling with the movement. “It was a hasty change right before I came to get you,” he says, sheepishly recalling the moment earlier tonight.
I might actually be drooling now, as he unbuttons his jeans and slides them down his thick, muscular thighs. As he steps out of his pants, he’s left in a pair of gray boxer briefs, which leave very little left to the imagination.
“Wow,” I whisper again, completely in awe of his physical beauty. This man is close to chiseled perfection. Yes, he has defined pecs and sculpted arms, but he’s got this slight softness to his stomach that is somehow sexier than any of his other features combined. There are still abs there, because damn, those two-a-day workouts have been paying off.
Tucking his thumbs in the waistband of his briefs, Corey goes to tug them down, but I almost shout out, “No! Wait.”
He hesitates, laughter bubbling up from his chest. “Okay?”
This entire time I’ve been frozen, leaning back against the window panes, but knowing what’s about to be revealed springs me into action. I walk toward Corey, internally praying it looks more like a saunter, and pause in front of him.
“Let me?”
Corey’s eyes darken and his tongue flicks across his lips. “Bex, you don’t—”
“I want to. Please,” I say, sinking to my knees in front of him. At eye level, the bulge he’s sporting is impressive and intimidating, but I’m not backing down from this. I place my hands on his thighs and run them up slowly until I reach the top of his boxer briefs. “See, I was a good girl, Corey. I didn’t open the toy my friends got me…”
Corey reaches out to cup my face, his thumb running along my bottom lip again, and I swear, at this moment, my wetness is dripping down my leg. My thong is soaked through at this point, so it’s entirely possible.
“You were a good girl, weren’t you, Bex?”
“Yes, sir.”
He throws his head back, groaning. “Fuck, Bex, you know what it does to me, hearing you say that.”
I bite my lip, nodding, and glance at the impressively hard, clothed length in front of me, and I swear I see his cock twitch.
“Go ahead,” he murmurs, as he strokes my cheek once, twice, then shifts his hand to the back of my head. He runs his fingers through my hair in a comforting gesture.
I pull down his boxer briefs and swallow a gasp. Corey’s cock is, to put it quite simply, magnificent. Long and thick, with pronounced veins on all sides—veins I can only guess I’ll feel pulsing inside me soon.
Corey runs his hand through my hair as I just stare at him. He chuckles softly, and asks, “No ‘wow’this time?”
Softly, I shake my head. “I’ve had a lot of time to envision this moment, but, Corey… that is not going to fit.”
Corey barks a laugh and asks, “Won’t fit where, sugar?”
“Anywhere, Corey! Surely you’re aware, your cock is massive!”
He fists himself and I’m struck by how big he really is. “I promise you, it’ll fit. Especially if you’re as wet as I think you are right now.”
Swallowing hard, I reach out and wrap one hand around him, near the base, and stroke up and down a few times. Corey grunts softly, his eyes closed. When he glances back down at me, I move my hand to my mouth and drag my tongue across it.
“Bex,” Corey whispers my name huskily, but doesn’t continue. So, I do.
