Balancing on his left arm, he reaches for his phone with his free hand and passes it to me.
I shine the light between our bodies and tuck my chin to assess the situation. “Can you hold it up a bit?”
When he pulls his crown back a fraction, I can make out the place where the lace has snagged. As Ezra breathes heavily above me, I pray to the sex gods that I don’t mess this up. Very gently, I pinch the thread and unwrap it from the metal. His dick bobs, and after he’s confirmed it’s free, he collapses to the bed beside me.
“Oh, thank fuck,” he exhales, his hand resting over his half-hard cock and his eyes closed.
I take a moment to study every peak and valley of his chest and abdomen, paying close attention to the swirling patterns of the hair on his thighs.
When I rest a hand on his chest, his body vibrates with laughter.
“Oh, so you can laugh, but I can’t?” I pinch his nipple.
“It wasn’tyourdick that was literally hanging on by a thread.”
And now we’re both flat on our backs, cackling up at the ceiling.
I shed the villainous undies and fling them across the room dramatically. “There. Who knew lace could be so evil.”
Eventually our laughter tapers off to a comfortable silence, and we migrate to our sides so we’re facing one another.
“Did we totally kill the mood?”
Propping his head up with his hand, he swirls his fingers around my nipple, leaving goose bumps in his wake. Then he drags them down my body, pausing at the crease at my thigh. “I’m always in the mood when it comes to you.”
36
Ezra
IWAStrue to my word and kept Millie up all night long. The sun was awake before we were asleep, and I kept her snug (and naked) in my arms until Kane called, wondering where I was. Apparently he didn’t realize the tracking app goes both ways. When I woke Millie, she whispered “five more minutes,” then sat on my face before I was allowed to go home.
Home.
“Let’s go home,” I’d said to her last night. Technically it washer home, but that phrase feels inclusive somehow, like it’sour home.
While I didn’t grow up with a sibling and have never shared a bedroom, I love having Millie in my space and I love being in hers. It isn’t the least bit awkward. When she’s not in my bed, I crave her like a drug. I’m consumed by thoughts of when I’ll get my next hit.
The remainder of my weekend is spent hanging out with my brother, reading over endless documents, and watching videos in preparation for my new position as principal. On Sunday evening, when I settle into bed, I pull up the picture Millie textedearlier. Suited from head to toe in silver sequins, she looks like a walking disco ball. She’s posed with her hip cocked to the side and one hand thrown in the air. The grin she’s sporting is bright, much like the one she wore a couple of days ago when she modeled the outfit for me in her bedroom. It was nearly four a.m. and we were both exhausted, but I pouted and threatened to throw her toys away unless she showed me.
I’m still drooling over the photo when a text notification appears at the top of the screen.
MILLIE
What are you doing next weekend?
ME
That depends
Will you be naked?
MILLIE
Not at my brother’s house
I laugh out loud as another text comes through.
MILLIE
