He kisses me with more urgency as his hand tightens against my lower back, holding me in place. His other hand drifts from my hair to my throat, his hand so large I feel small and too fragile. His fingers skate down the column of my throat, over my exposed neckline to the swell of my cleavage that’s barely exposed because of my shirt. His tongue slides against mine as he slips his thumb beneath the layers of my tee and bra, running the slightly rough pad of his thumb over my nipple. My breath falls out of me, my legs growing limp with the slight contact I’ve been craving for weeks—but feels like years, a lifetime.
Our kisses grow fiercer, and sloppier as we reach for fabric without seeing, tugging, and pulling in an attempt to feel each other.
I have to take a step back to tug off my jeans. The air cooler down here in the basement or maybe it’s just because I’m standing in my underwear, about to sleep with my roommate’s brother, and the nerves from this jump are catching up with me again.
Nolan takes a step closer to me, trailing his hand down my side to the waistband of my underwear. I expect him to take them off, debating how fast this will really go. If it will be more than a two-minute romp in the sheets that leaves me disappointed and with more sexual frustration than I came down here with.
He slowly grazes his fingertips back up over my abdomen and bra, over my shoulders, and down my arms, then he closes the gap, kissing me with a new sense of calm and restraint. His fingers climb higher on my stomach, over my ribs until reaching my bra. His thumbs breach the barrier of my underwire, brushing the underside of my breasts. The squeeze of pleasure that wrings my lungs has me realizing how underappreciated my experiences with foreplay have been because the couple of guys I’ve been with before merely pinched my nipples and moved on. Nolan caresses the untouched skin, making my breaths feel labored as anticipation builds and lingers, creating a pressure between my legs that I’m desperately hoping he can relieve.
I release my bra and toss the garment to the floor. As I lean into him, inviting him into my space—into my body—my hardened nipples brush his chest, and the sensation of heat, soft skin, and hard muscle makes me moan again.
“Fuck,” Nolan grinds out, reaching up to palm one breast. His thumb circles my areola while his fingers brush against the side of my breast, another untouched space that now wants all of his attention. He massages and moves, exploring the entire globe of my breast, each line and swell, teasing my nipple with scarce and gentle contact, running his fingers on either side to apply the subtlest of pressure that has me gasping with silent pleas to feel more, more contact—more relief. As though reading my thoughts, his fingers fall to my nipple, rubbing, pulling, pinching. Fire burns in my veins, emboldening me as I reach for his pants, freeing the button and then the zipper as his fingers continue to slide and pinch, hard and soft, gentle and rough.
Distracted by his touch, I tug crudely at his jeans, pulling them down around his hips, and then reach into his boxer briefs, finding him hard and impossibly hot against my palm. His hips jut forward as he groans, his lips finally breaking their rhythm of control. I smile against his mouth, feeling the sensation of control and victory. I’m about to wrap my fingers around his length when Nolan pushes me against the bed, causing my knees to bend. My back and thighs fall across his mattress, the shift in the air and his blankets, bringing a wave of his bergamot scent to wash over me.
Nolan threads his fingers into my underwear, shedding them with one quick pull, and then his hands are on my thighs, spreading my legs wide and pinning my knees to the bed. He doesn’t hesitate a single breath before lowering his mouth over my most sensitive area. I gasp, the pleasure too much and not nearly enough as my legs instinctively want to both close and open wider. Contradictions are swallowing me as he uses his thumb to expose me to the ministrations of his tongue and teeth, walking me on the tightrope of pleasure and torture. My eyes shutter, warmth flushing over my body, and just when I think I can’t feel any better, he slides a finger inside me, proving me wrong.
I writhe under his touch, so close to my release as my words become pleas, and then gasps. The pressure of a second finger curling inside of me as his teeth graze against my clit is my undoing. Nolan doesn’t stop, licking me, and fingering me as wave after wave tumbles through me. He ignores my feeble attempt to push his shoulders, feeling too sensitive and impossibly close to a second orgasm—something that is impossible, at least for me. But his mouth is savagely and relentlessly on me as though my pleasure is fueling and dictating his body. My lungs nor heart have the chance to settle before pleasure coils around my spine, arching my back as my toes and fingers dig into the blanket. I shudder and writhe against him, my voice inaudible pleas that turn into a scream as I climax a second time, even more intense and mind-numbing than my first release.
Nolan hums as he drags his tongue through my folds a final time and sits back, his mouth and chin wet with my arousal. It feels wrong and so damn right. I am putty, my muscles pliant and warm, humming with a sense of contentment I’ve never experienced.
I lean forward, kissing him hard on the mouth, pushing away thoughts of the future and who he’s already done this with—who he’ll do it to next, delaying my fall back to Earth. “Tell me you have condoms.”
Nolan grins, dragging his hands over my torso and thighs as he stands. He reaches for his pants, discarded on the floor. His underwear is tented, the outline of his length stealing my breath. He frees a condom, and then jerks his underwear down, exposing his impressive length that has shock and anticipation feeling like another harsh gust that keeps me floating. He’s huge and thick and even if he ends up being a two-pump chump, I can’t say I’ll regret experiencing it. He rips the wrapper open, sheathing himself.
“Do you have a preference for what position you want first?” He strokes himself, and my heart bottoms out, heat filling me.
First certainly implies there will be more than two pumps.
I shake my head because I can’t talk, I’m not even sure I’m breathing—just floating.
Nolan runs his hands over my thighs, down to my knees where he grips me and gently spreads my legs a fraction before dropping his knee between my thighs. His hands rove across the back of my thighs, cupping my waist. I’m mesmerized by the sight of him touching me and how watching his movements intensifies the pressure and pleasure radiating through my body.
He dips his head, using that talented tongue to run over one peaked nipple. The sound I make is a cross between a groan and a gasp. He tilts his face to watch me and repeats the movement. My breath hitches and my body grows taut. He smiles, a cocky, knowing smile that makes me want to defy him and try to pretend his mouth isn’t the most amazing thing I’ve ever experienced, but then he does it again, his tongue harder, flat against my nipple, and I forget everything except how good I feel. His eyes on me is even more intense than his hands. It’s not possible, yet it’s the overwhelming truth as he lowers his mouth, sucking my nipple between his lips and flicking it with his tongue, all the while, watching me. Studying me. Consuming me.
I run my fingers through his hair, raking my nails gently against his scalp, and Nolan’s growl of pleasure feels like my own.
He shifts, each of his movements smooth and controlled, graceful as he pulls my legs up, pressing my knees to my chest. His hands clasp around my calves, and his eyes sit heavy on me as the tip of his cock nudges my entrance. His eyes drop to where our bodies are barely touching, and he swallows thickly before meeting my eyes again. He pushes inside of me just a fraction, and my lungs squeeze as my entire body becomes hyperaware of the slight burn from his girth, the hint of pleasure, the yearning to feel more of him—deeper.
Nolan swears, taking one hand from my leg to his shaft, his gaze shifting from my face to my body. Jealousy spikes me. I’ve never wanted to see anything as badly as I do Nolan’s giant cock barely penetrating me.
“Fuck,” he whispers, drawing out the word. He pulls out, running his cock over my folds, and then slides his tip inside of me again. “You’re so tight.” He pulls out again, running the head of his shaft over me and through my folds, offering a completely different feeling against my clit than his hands and mouth offered.
I want to object and tell him to stop toying with me, to fill me.
I want to beg him to continue rubbing against me and play with me all damn night.
He moves, pressing into me again, offering a little more. I moan, like a freaking porn star, and don’t have even strength or control at this point to stop.
Again, he pulls out.
This time I object with a growl. I’m feeling half-feral at this point. A tickle at the back of my thoughts tells me I’m going to be embarrassed tomorrow by the way I’m acting, but then he slides over that overstimulated bud of nerves he’s teased and pleasured, making it swollen and greedy, and the thought is silenced.
Nolan swears again, bracing one hand on the underside of my thigh, keeping my leg bent, and then his eyes are on me, and his cock slides into me fully, filling me so deliciously I moan again. My thoughts about everything else but how good I feel and how I never want him to stop, cease.
Chapter21
Nolan