Thankfully, he seems to stop with some part of his body still between my thighs.
Without my sight, I have no idea what’s coming next, giving this an additional layer of exhilaration.
I feel eight fingers curl into my waistband, then he’s dragging my shorts and underwear down.
He’s staying.
It’s silent for a while, and my cheeks heat imagining Crue looking me over.
“What are these from?”
Assuming he’s talking about my underwear, I say, “My stylist, like everything else I wear.”
“No. These bruises.” His hands grasp the sides of my hips, making me jolt off the floor.
Crue catches my ass, keeping it suspended in the air.
Opening my eyes, I right my head to see Crue between my thighs, sitting on his heels as he watches me carefully.
I shake my head. “Nothing.”
“There’s too many to be nothing. How’d you get them?”
“You did stunts with me. You saw for yourself how physical they can be. Probably just from that. I’ve never really noticed them to be honest.”
Crue’s stare doesn’t let up.
He doesn’t believe me.
I shrug one shoulder as if I couldn’t care less whether he does or not.
“Who did this to you?”
“I just told you they’re from cheer.”
“I cheered with you and I didn’t leave these kinds of marks. So who did?”
“You did a few stunts. You didn’t cheer with me. There’s a lot more momentum in a routine.”
“I don’t like ’em.”
“Don’t look at them.”
“I want to look at all of you.” Finally, he lowers his gaze…while lifting my ass a few more inches. Twisting my hips to the side, he lays a kiss on each of the dozens of bruises there, then does the same to the other.
My nostrils flare from the effort it takes not to cry.I should’ve kept my eyes closed.
“Now…”
He fits my legs over his shoulders, raising my ass even higher, my own shoulder blades almost off the floor. When our eyes collide over my pussy, I immediately relocate mine to the ceiling.
So awkward.
“Do you want to see how good I can really kiss?”
“Personally, I’d rather feel it.”
“When I get done, you’re gonna be begging me to kiss you on the mouth.”