“Shut up,” I say, smothering his grin with my mouth as I tug at his shirt. He helps me pull it over his head, and I start working on his pants next.
“Wren.” His hands cover mine. “I don’t have a condom.”
“What? Why?”
He gives me an exasperated look. “Why do you think? I haven’t needed them. You didn’t tell me you were coming. What, did you want me to suggest a trip to the pharmacy as soon as you arrived?”
“Yes!”
Sawyer rolls his eyes. “We can go now.”
I groan, collapsing on his bed. “I should have gone on birth control.”
“It’ll take ten minutes,” he says, but he seems as reluctant to leave this room as I am. To rejoin the rest of the world.
He lies down beside me instead. There’s barely room for both of us on the twin mattress. Sleeping tonight should be interesting.
I roll my head until his mouth is within reach, kissing him again. He pulls me back onto his lap, sitting up so he can yank off my shirt and unclasp my bra. I start to care a lot less about the lack of condoms, arching my back to allow him better access. When he realizes it, I feel his laugh reverberate against my sensitive skin.
It’s better … and worse. Everything we’re doing only makes me want more.
I reach for his waistband again, my impatience and his distracting mouth slowing my progress. Once I have his erection free, Sawyer grunts.
“I’m not going to last longat all,” he tells me.
“So, same as always?”
His teeth scrape my skin, spreading goose bumps everywhere. “Now you know why. You were right; fucking you is better than my hand.”
“When did I say that?”
“At Wade’s party. You told me I had a high opinion of my hand if I thought jerking off would be like having sex with you.”
“I don’t remember saying that. I was … nervous that night. Although it does sound like something I’d say.”
He laughs. “It does.”
I release his cock, needing both hands to work off my pants. I slip my thong down, too, then shove at his chest until he lies back on the mattress.
“Wren …” he says, uncertain, as my hips hover over his erection.
“Relax. I have no interest in getting knocked up.”
I shift closer and straddle him, his penis trapped between us. Sawyer realizes what I’m wanting, pulling my ass higher so that my pussy is directly against his dick, pressing it against his stomach. Slowly, I start to move my hips, watching as I work up and down his length.
The burst of pleasure is immediate, a single spark that roars into a bonfire.
“Fuck,” Sawyer groans, watching us.
I bite my bottom lip so hard that I taste copper, trying to remember he has neighbors on the other side of this wall. I was baiting him before, but I’ll likely come first. I can already feel a pending orgasm tingling in my toes. I’m wet—so wet that his cock is shiny from me grinding against it. My hips move faster, chasing more friction. I feel feverish, my entire body flushed with heat and swimming with lust. Fixated on the erotic sight of my pussy coating his cock with my arousal. Conflicted between making this last and a rising desperation to reach the release that’s only existed with him.
He looks so perfect under me. Abs flexed. Jaw clenched. Pupils wide. He’s tucked an arm behind his head, so I can see the sailboat tattooed on his arm. The two spots I sucked on his neck are bright red too.
Mine.
He’s mine.
I’ve always wanted him, and I never thought I’d really have him. I accepted there might always be some distance between us, that I might never get all of him.
