Sutton Everett is blowing me in her dressing room before she struts onstage to perform for thousands. I’ve fantasized about her touching me like this, and the reality is a thousand times more erotic.
I resist the urge to thrust, just watching as her mouth takes me over and over again. Already, I can feel the distinctive pressure building at the base of my spine as heat pools and my nerve endings tingle.
Her hand grips the base of my shaft, gripping me tightly before her fingers dip down to massage my balls. I can barely think straight. Blood whooshes in my ears. If I could form sentences, I might even tell her I imagined this as part of our encounter in Mrs. Jeeves’s classroom during prom, if it had ended differently. That it’s my favorite fantasy to conjure when it’s just me and my hand.
I catch a flash of motion as her left hand leaves her thigh and disappears between her legs. And that small movement—the realization that pleasuring me is turning her on enough that she needs to touch herself—is what sends me over the edge, filling her mouth with my release.
The back of her throat shudders as she swallows.
Sutton sits back on her heels and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. Her full lips are still perfectly painted, stained a shade of dark pink that going down on me didn’t so much as smear.
My heart rate slows, and my breathing deepens as the pleasure slowly fades. “Fuck, June.”
Sutton stands, tugging the tight material down her thighs. Not that there’s much to pull.
“Next time, sit the first time I ask.” She smirks.
I stand too. “Next time, huh?”
She’s close enough that I don’t even have to move in order to rest a hand on her waist. My grip tightens, turning possessive.
She holds my gaze before glancing to the right. “I have to be onstage in twenty minutes.”
“You came in just a couple of minutes last night.”
She holds my gaze for a few seconds before stepping away. My hand falls as I force my face to stay expressionless. The rejection smarts.
“You can’t mess up my hair or makeup. I won’t have time to fix it.” She saysthatand then starts tugging up the tight material of her dress, revealing a pair of spandex shorts. She pulls them off, followed by a purple thong.
The sight is more than enough to get my dick hardening again. I can’t get enough of this girl.
“I didn’t bring a—”
“There’s a box of them over there.” She nods toward the counter below the mirror before bending down and picking up her underwear, tossing them onto the couch.
I stride over to the vanity and spot an unopened box of condoms. Apparently, they’re always on hand on music tours. Stashed in hotel rooms and stocked in drawers. I want to ask her if she’s done this in the past—hooked up right before a show. But I don’t. I focus on making sure this is the encounter she’ll compare any others to.
Sutton watches as I rip a foil packet open and roll the latex on. There’s no mistaking the heat and the hunger in her expression.
Last night felt inevitable. This feels purposeful. Not just acting on base urges or getting off.
I cage her against the wall next to the couch, gripping my cock and rubbing it in the wetness pooling between her thighs.
Sutton lets out a breathy moan as she arches against me. “Teddy.”
My hands slide up her thighs to cup her ass as I lift her up. And then I thrust, entering her in one smooth stroke. Her nails dig into my shoulders, and her legs wrap around my waist, pulling me deeper inside of her.
“I can see you,” she murmurs. “In the mirror.”
It’s hard to say which is more of a turn-on—that sentence or the husky tone she said it in.
“What can you see, June?”
“I can see—”
I hit a new spot, turning whatever she was going to say into a gasp.
“ou fucking me.”