When my bra slides down my shoulders and joins my shirt on the floor, Ethan sits up slightly and reaches toward my now-free breasts. I lean over him, giving him better access, and his hands cup the soft mounds, kneading the skin with his fingers until he finds the nipples and pinches them to hardness. I groan at the feeling, my back arching, and lean in further, wanting him to touch me even more.
“So responsive,” he murmurs. “What if I touch you here?”
His hands slide lower, running over my stomach until they reach the hem of my jeans, the tips of his fingers on one hand tucking briefly under the material to slide against the sensitive skin of my hips. His other hand drifts further downward, moving between my legs. He touches my vagina, wet in my panties, applying just enough pressure that I can feel it, but not enough to be satisfying. I groan deeply, my hands gripping his shoulders.
“Fuck, Ethan,” I pant. “Don’t stop.”
I pull at the button on his pants as his hand slides teasingly back and forth between my legs. The button pops open and he lifts his hips so I can pull his pants down. In his boxers, his cock stands tall, a wet patch from its leaking tip on the material, and I reach out to grip it firmly, making Ethan choke and falter in his movements. Then he pulls down the zipper on my jeans and tugs them down over my legs.
We kick the pants away and I lean in toward Ethan, pressing the length of my body against him. Our bare skin meets and I feel his clothed erection against my leg, bobbing desperately as Ethan’s hips hump up, seeking contact. I straddle Ethan’s legs, locking my knees around him, my unruly hair falling around us in a thick, curly curtain.
I pause then, panting. We’re both almost naked now, our sweaty skin pressing together. Ethan is looking up at me, eyes dark with lust, and his hands are on my hips, holding me in place. There’s a burning inferno weaving its way around the both of us, so thick and hot that I can barely breathe with it.
But I need to take a moment to just look at him, underneath me like this. Part of me is unconvinced that this isn’t just another dream, that I’m not going to wake up at any moment, bereft and alone. The rest of me is screaming that this isn’t going to work in the morning and that things are just going to be even worse for me when this is all over.
There’s no going back now, though. Unless Ethan abruptly comes to his senses and pushes me away, there’s no way I can stop. Everything about Ethan, the feel of his skin, the touch of his hands, the weight of his gaze on me, is absolutely addictive. I need more of it, to take what I can get from him until the end. Only then can I think about the consequences of my actions, and hope that I haven’t ruined everything for us both.
“What are you thinking about?” Ethan asks, his voice rough.
“Nothing,” I say.
His hands grip me tighter.
“If you can still think at all, I’m fucking doing something wrong,” he says in a low voice that sends shivers down my spine.
“Then make me stop,” I dare, pressing a soft kiss against his chest.
Abruptly, Ethan pushes me up, and then I’m sitting on his legs again, my skin feeling cold as I’m torn away from the heat of his. His fingers pull at my silken panties and I raise myself up as I realize what he wants, letting him slide the material over my smooth legs. I momentarily raise a leg so that they can drop to the floor and then I pull at his boxers, gripping the material and tugging them downward.
Now completely bare, I feel vulnerable and exposed. It isn’t the first time I’ve slept with a man, but knowing that it’s Ethan I’m with, who is looking at me with such an intense gaze, makes me feel like I’m in the spotlight.
“What do you want?” Ethan asks me.
“I want you to fuck me,” I reply with reckless abandon. “I want to feel every inch of you as you slide into me. I want to ride you hard and come with you as we both fall over the edge.”
Ethan shudders at my filthy words. I can barely believe I just said that to him. But there’s no going back. I’m going to live out every fantasy I have in this small amount of time that I’ve been given with Ethan.
“Fuck, Georgia,” Ethan groans.
I reach down between us and w
rap my hand around his leaking dick, making his breath catch. I rub it up and down, smearing the thick leakage on the tip with my thumb, using it as a lubricant to move my hand. Ethan groans gutturally, his eyes rolling back as he slumps against the pillows, helpless to do anything else other than hold onto me while I continue my ministrations. His body trembles beneath me, the muscles in his legs tight, and I almost tip over the edge at the realization that I’m the one bringing him to this brink, too overwhelmed to do anything other than groan and writhe while I touch him.
“Keep touching me,” he gasps.
I tighten my grip and lean in, my hard nipples brushing against his chest, closing my mouth against his collar. I nip and suck, raising myself on my knees so I can still move my hand on his dick, and he thrusts desperately into my grip, reduced to breathy moans and gasps.
“God, stop, I’m going to come,” he pants.
“Good,” I purr into his ear.
He pushes me back, which I suspected he would, and I grin as he stares at me, his eyes wild and desperate. I let go of his cock and sit back.
“I want to come inside you,” he tells me in a low voice and I tremble at the words. God, I want that so badly too. “I want to fuck you now.”
There’s no more time for teasing. As much as I want to draw this out as much as I can, to take each precious second I can get, we’re almost done. We’re both shaking with need, our bodies eager to chase our oncoming orgasms and get sweet relief from this pleasurable torture. I wish we could last just a little longer, but it always had to come to an end.
I raise myself up onto my knees once more, spreading my legs as I brace my hands on Ethan’s shoulders. His hands reach up to wrap around my hips and then he looks up at me, our eyes meeting, the weight of what’s happening heavy between us.