I don’t answer. I draw a line of it down his chest and lick it off slow, and his laugh cuts out in the middle. I move to his stomach, and he twitches.
“That—”
A bit drops onto the waistband of his pants. I look up at him. “Oops.”
I lean down and get that too.
“That’s it.” He sits up, catches me, flips me onto my back in one easy motion that knocks the breath clean out of me in the best possible way. Then he ducks his head under the hem of my shirt and presses kisses across my stomach, blows a raspberry that makes me shriek and grab at him, and then he does something slower with his mouth, moves lower, his tongue warm against my skin, and the laugh dies in my throat.
He pulls my shirt off over my head. Reaches blind for the can, eyes never leaving me, and the cold of it on my skin makes me gasp. Then his mouth is there, warm, chasing it. I get my ownbra off because I can’t wait for him to do it, and he makes a low sound at the sight of me and does it again. The cold presses against my nipples, and then the heat follows, and I’m arching up off the bed with my hands fisted in his hair.
By the time we’re kissing again, it’s frantic. My hips roll up against him, and I can feel exactly how much he wants this. I reach down and palm him through his pants. He groans into my mouth and presses into my hand. I slip my hand into his pants and grip him. The sound he makes goes straight through me while I use my fingers to grip him tightly.
“The whipped cream,” I breathe against his lips.
I push him onto his back. I unbutton his pants and pull them all the way off. I look at him and want pulls low and sharp in me. It’s such a new feeling to want him the way that I do that I have to take a moment. So, I shake the can and grin. Then I climb back on the bed and put whipped cream from the base of his cock to the tip. He shudders, and then I lick it off, trying to take him into my mouth. I only get about halfway before I pull him out.
“Fuck, Aspen,” he moans, saying my name like it’s been knocked out of him. His whole body goes tight.
I take my time with round two. I place the tip of the can at his base and swirl it around his dick this time. His head falls back when my tongue follows. Watching him unable to take the pleasure makes me feel powerful in a way I’ve never experienced before. I start sucking him now, moving my head up and down, grabbing his base and letting my hand follow my mouth.
“Your mouth,” he gets out. “Fuck.”
I stand up off the bed and take the rest of my clothes off, and when he reaches for me, I put a hand flat on his chest.
“Stay there.”
He goes still, then he listens. He puts his hands behind his head and waits, watching me with dark eyes.
I climb over him. “Grab the condom.”
He stretches for the nightstand, finds one, and rips it open. I watch as he rolls it on, and I sink down onto him. We both make a sound as I move my hips. He sits up to kiss me, but I place my palm on his sternum and shake my head. He grips me harder as I start to move.
“You’re so perfect,” he says, biting his lip. His hands glide to my hips, holding on but letting me set every inch of the pace. “You’re so fucking hot.”
And I do feelso fucking hot. I feel like I’m the one running this, completely here in my own body, watching his face for what each roll of my hips does to him. He grabs the whipped cream and lays a cold line of it across my chest and grins up at me.
“Oops.”
Then he sits up and licks it off, making out with my skin. I moan, running my fingers through his hair, arching my back.
I gasp, and he murmurs into my skin, “Does that feel good?”
I nod, rocking on him, the build coming faster than I’d planned for.
“Can you come like this?” he asks against my throat. “On me?”
I nod again and push him back down. “Lay back.”
He goes, and he moves up into me, and I grind down and chase that feeling. God, that feeling. It builds fast and aches so deeply for him. The whole time he watches me — my body, my face, my eyes — like there’s nothing else worth looking at. I lean down and kiss him. His tongue slides against mine, and the spark rolls through every inch of me. I rock my hips, and I’m right there, so I don’t stop. I grind on him, chasing my pleasure. I start moaning in his mouth, body shaking and trembling. I accidentally pull his hair, but he doesn’t seem to mind as I tip straight over the edge. I flip my hair, arch my back, and my moan fills the quiet room. His hands hold my waist as I prolong this feeling of ecstasy. I come, riding on top of him.
“Oh, fuck,” he breathes. “You—”
“I did.” I can barely talk. “It felt so good.”
He flips me onto my back like he’s been waiting for the green light and finally got it. He drives into me, and my spine arches off the bed at the new angle, a different and bigger wave tearing through me, my toes going numb with it.
“Look at me,” he says.
