Jamie stands up … revealing a patch of sticky wetness spread across the front of his boxer-briefs.
My jaw drops. “Jamie.” I laugh. “You came in your pantsagain?”
It’s funny, but it’s still hot as hell for some reason.
There’s not even any shame in his eyes. The look he angles at me is like he’s asking,how could I not? “Feeling you come with your thighs wrapped around my neck was way too fucking hot. What can I say?”
After speaking those words, the outline of his growing cock presses against the sticky spot on his underwear. My jaw drops. Is he kidding me? After blowing his load moments ago, he’s already hard again?
Heat sparks across me. I can’t have him coming in his pants a third time, can I? After he’s given me two orgasms, that would just be selfish. I pull him back onto the bed, onto his back, and sink my fingertips under the waistband of his underwear.
His sharply cut abs dance along his torso as his muscles tighten. “Think you can come again?” I ask slyly.
Lust glints in his eyes. He nods. I think his throat is too clogged to speak. It makes me feel powerful.
I feel the anxious twitching of his muscles as I drag his boxers down the long, muscular columns of his legs.
His cock is … well, fuck it, there’s no other word: it’s breathtaking. Long, thick. The swollen pink head perfectly proportioned. I wrap my hand around the solid base. His length is slick from his own cum, making it easy for me to run my grip up and down his shaft.
My eyes marvel at the way his muscles ripple as I work him. His breathing is ragged, desperate, and when I glide my grip around his swollen tip, grazing my thumb against his opening, he lets out a moan that’s the sexiest sound I’ve ever heard.
His hands curl into my sheets. My mouth waters at the sight of his balls tightening.
“I … I …” he’s trying to tell me something, but his choppy breathing keeps him from forming words. Instead, an incoherent jumble of sounds pulls from his throat. But there’slittle doubt of what he’s trying to communicate—and with one more slide of my hand up his slick length, it’s confirmed.
He groans, his muscles stiffen, and a strong jet of cum shoots from his cock. It’s hard to believe that after coming just minutes ago, he still has this much left to give, but the irrefutable evidence is covering his abs, my hand, and my sheets.
Part of my motivation for this arrangement was to find out what I like. Well, I liked everything we did tonight. A lot.
I just wonder if that’s because ofwhoI did it with. And I wonder if that should worry me.
28
JAMIE
My situational awareness hasn’t been at its best today.
Literally trying to put my shoes on the wrong feet before I left for classes this morning was only a sign of things to come.
I’ve walked smack into closed doors because I didn’t realize they weren’t open. I’ve daydreamed through every one of my classes. I’ve tried to sip my coffee without realizing I hadn’t taken off the lid yet.
It’s because I’m not living in the present today. I’m living in the memories of last night.
My brain is still a fuzzy cloud of endorphins, buzzing from the natural high of being between Carmen’s soft, smooth thighs last night. The memory of her taste still dances on my lips and tongue. The memory of the sounds she made still twinkle in my ear at intervals, each time feeling like a hit of a drug straight to my veins.
And when I remember the way Carmen wrapped her hand around the throbbing base of my cock, my length still sticky from the load I spilled into my pants, I have to remind myself how to breathe.
It’s the coldest day we’ve had in a while, but even as a harsh wind blasts right into my face while I walk down the sidewalk, I feel like I’m wrapped in a warm blanket.
I arrive at the door of Chiyoda Ramen, where I’m heading for lunch, before I even realize it. I hadn’t taken notice of my surroundings. I may have crossed streets on red lights. Last night was so good it’s genuinely putting my life at risk.
That’s a trade-off I’ll make every single time. Because the way Carmen tastes and the way her thumb feels brushing against the slit of my cock is better than life itself.
I’d better order quick and take my seat before a tent forms in my pants.
Last night is still replaying nonstop in my head as I finish my ramen. My mouth hardly registers the flavor, even though I know it must be as good as it always is. It’s hard for even Kazu’s ramen to compete with the memory of the flavor I was tasting less than twenty-four hours ago.
Speaking of Kazu, he surprises me by sliding into the opposite end of my booth just as I’m about to leave.
