“Like this?”
He tugged up the material and exposed his hard abs, his taut stomach—though really it was the way he did it that got her. Like a first-time stripper, awkwardly trying to show off. Still unsure of how his body looked to his audience, but going for it anyway.
“Ohyeah.”
“You like that?”
“I love that.”
“What else? What else do you love?”
“This. Your voice. You asking. You telling me.”
“You want me to tell you?”
“God yeah, tell me. Tell me what you want.”
“I want you to lift your shirt. Show me those beautiful tits.”
It was the wordbeautifulthat almost made her do it. Well, that and almost everything else. Her excitement had reached some kind of fever pitch, and it robbed her of every rational thought. Suddenly it didn’t seem like a big deal to show him her body, because really, who cared anymore? What did it matter, as long as he kept jerking that slick, gorgeous cock and her fingers kept rubbing her clit and the pleasure kept coming and coming and coming?
In truth, nothing should have mattered in the face of that.
So when she sat up instead and took hold of his cock, she told herself that it was just what she wanted to do. To lick him and suck him until his head went back and moaned words escaped him—oh god, Letty, I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come in your mouth.
And if he forgot what he’d asked for, well, that was just an unintended side effect. It didn’t make any difference to the pleasure she felt as his cock swelled and jerked and spilled all over her tongue. She still gasped as her own orgasm peaked, body tensing, face pressed briefly to the exposed strip of his stomach. It wasn’t even a problem afterward—they whispered and laughed, and nothing more was said about it.
Except in her head, where all the conversations she wished she’d had played out, over and over again.
Chapter 18
She knew the sound was a bad one. But she didn’t fully understand why until Tate made it super clear for her. He moaned in his sleep like a small disgruntled child, one hand dragging her pillow over his face in a way thatwouldhave seemed adorable. If it were not for his words. “Tell your buddy to come back at a reasonable time, like noon,” he said, and then the full weight of the situation was on her.
The sound was Lydia, knocking on her door.
“Tate, you have to get up. Tate. Get up. You fell asleep.”
“I know, and I would really love to keep making that mistake for another eight hours.”
“You can’t, remember. You had to be up at six thirty and it’s already seven ten.”
He turned his bleary face her way, hair all sleep mussed, eyes half open.
Wits as sharp and annoying as ever.
“That would be a really cool way to hide me from your friend if I seemed to care even a little tiny bit about practice this morning. But as I don’t, that just leaves us with your subterfuge.”
“I wasn’t trying to be sub…ter…fuge-ious. I was just…”
“Politely asking me to hide under your bed?”
She sighed, resigned. Flopped onto her back.
“I was thinking the bathroom.”
“Or…we could just say we studied real late.”
“In our underwear. In a room that smells like come.”
