Page 78 of Barefoot Dreams
“Which way where?” she asks, breathless from kissing.
“Which way to your home, we need to start making babies.” Julie whimpers, pulling away from me and squints as she searches for our way home.
“There, go there,” she points, and I take off.
“Griffin?”
“Yeah, Birdy?”
“I love blind drinks.”
“Your door is open,” I tell her when we finally make it up the stairs to her apartment.
“Mm-hmm. It always is.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m always waiting for you.” If words had the power to bring you to your knees, mine would be bent in front of my girl right now.
She’s waiting for me…
“So, I didn’t blow my chance with you yet?”
“No, I’ve been waiting for you for a long time.”
“I know,” I whisper and her cute eyebrows crinkle with confusion, but I can’t tell her that I know. I can’t. Even my drunk self remembers that. So, I settle for, “I’m here, little J.”
“Yes, yes, you are.” Her answer is breathless as she sinks her small fingers into my hair, clutching it and fuses out lips together again.
I find the nearest wall and press her against it, needing to kiss and feel her everywhere. My lips hungrily devour hers while her soft but toned body grows more and more plaint under my touch and if I wasn’t already drunk on the alcohol and on her, I’d get there all over again.
One of my hands is cupping and kneading her ass, pressing her closer into my hard-on as the other trails down from her face to her neck, to the curve of her breasts where I get lost again.
God, I’ve never felt more perfect tits in my whole life. But I want more. I need more and now I can have it, because she’s single and she’s having all my babies.
Without hesitation, I yank her top down, exposing her naked tits—because of course Julie doesn’t wear a bra—and those beautiful pebbled nipples are looking straight at me. I swipe my thumb across one, and then I do it again and again, each time eliciting a sweet little mewl from her. Even in the darkness of the night and my state I note the deep pink shade of them. So deep they are almost red.
I don’t expect that.
I don’t know what I expect, though. But this seems fitting.
“They look like ripe cherries and I loveeee cherries,” I tell her.
God, do I love cherries.
“Cherries…do they taste like cherries?” Her voice is breathless.
“I don’t know.”
“Then find out.”
“That’s a great idea.” I’m already lowering my head before the sentence is fully finished and wrap my lips around one peak, immediately moaning at the sensation of tasting her. It’s so hard and perfect and sensitive and I feel us both shifting closer to each other when there’s already no room left between us.
But I need more. I need to be deeper. Farther inside her.
Why haven’t I done this before?
Julie waves her fingers into my hair once again, arching her back and moaning pleadingly, “More, more. Oh, Griffin, please give me more. Touch me everywhere. I want you everywhere.”
