TWENTY
Ozzie
Mine.
Mila is alone with me, and we’re in bed, and she’s reaching for me. Last night was frantic and hot and necessary. But waking up with her in the morning is another kind of hot.
My hand is full of that sweet cheek, and she’s not slapping it away.
I could have opened my eyes and mouth to ask permission, but…I didn’t. I made a bad choice.
Her hands slide up my chest and rest on my shoulders, and I’m instantly hard. I’ve been hard as granite all night long while spooning up behind her gorgeous ass, even after coming in her mouth. I’m in a constant state of arousal around her, sniffing her hair, nuzzling her shoulders with my lips while she sleeps.
Now we’re touching and kissing, and it’s early morning, making me think what it would be like to wake up next to her as my wife. Touching, kissing, cuddling, fucking. Cuddle-fucking.
God, she’s so soft and curvy and fits perfectly against me.
I don’t want this relationship to be fake anymore, but how do I tell her that? I don’t. I don’t want to have that conversation because I know I’ll get it all wrong.
Right now, I only have one need, and that is to touch and kiss her and feel something.
The kiss is soft and sleepy at first, our four lips tempting, teasing, and playing.
The sensation is both too much for a Sunday morning and not enough. My family will start to rise soon for breakfast.
I want to skip all of it. Skip the morning hike, skip the big dinner and skip tackle football.
I want to take her back to school early, go to my empty dorm room or her empty sorority house, and fuck her brains out. I should make it happen.
My tongue sweeps against the seam of her lips. Mila parts and opens to me, letting my tongue inside.
I grip her closer and roll on top of her. This time, I’m not letting her call the shots.
Mila moans quietly into my mouth as my body presses down onto her, and I can’t decide if it’s a good moan or an “I’m in pain, you big oaf” type of moan. So I hitch myself up on my elbows and look down at her.
Her eyes open, and my eyes roam over that beautiful face, down to her lips, slightly pink from our kissing. The craving expression on her face melts me.
“Did I squish you?”
She smiles and nods. “Do it again.”
This elicits a growl deep in my chest, and I lower my weight on top of her little by little as we pick up where we left off with the kissing.
Mila responds to my gradual full weight by opening her legs, forcing me to nest my middle against the heated juncture of her thighs.
She sighs, fully wrapping her arms around my torso and pulling me down.
“God, you have a nice dick,” she says, capturing my bottom lip between her lips, her thighs squeezing and her body arching upward.
This woman is scrambling my brain. Her kiss heats me up more and more by the second as her tongue slides around inside my mouth.
The inside of her thigh strokes outside my leg, and my body becomes more aware of all the places our bodies touch. The thin patch of underwear between her thighs is warm and damp where my body rests, just below my navel. I fight the urge to grind my pelvis into her; it would mean adjusting for her height, and I don’t want to stop kissing.
I worry that I might smash her through the mattress for a second, but Mila loves it.
Her arms wrap around my midsection and hug me tight. I love her arms there; my body loves this feeling of pressing down on her and nestling between her legs. Most of all, I love kissing her before my brain has formed any intelligent thought first thing in the morning.
I want to grunt like a bear and rip those undies off her, but I have to be quiet.