Page 70 of Practice Makes Perfect
His words push me even closer, and when he leans up to capture my mouth in another kiss, I moan against his lips. His fingers move faster, more insistent, and suddenly I’m there—trembling and crying out as pleasure crashes through me.
“That’s it,” he encourages, slowing his movements but not stopping, drawing out the waves of my orgasm until I slump against him, breathless and boneless.
For a long moment, I just rest my forehead against his, trying to catch my breath. His arousal is still evident beneath me, and when I shift slightly, he lets out a small groan.
“Do you want me to…” I trail off, not entirely sure what I’m offering but knowing I want to reciprocate somehow.
“You don’t have to,” he says immediately. “Making you feel good is enough for me.”
“But I want to,” I insist, surprising myself with my boldness. “I want to watch you.”
His eyes darken at my words. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“OK,” he grins.
He shifts me gently off his lap and onto the couch beside him, then unbuttons his jeans. My heart races as he pulls himself free, already hard and impressive. He wraps his hand around himself, then looks at me.
“Is this OK?” he asks.
I nod, transfixed by the sight. “More than OK.”
As he strokes himself, his eyes never leave mine, and the intimacy of the moment steals my breath. It’s raw, real. I feel a strange surge of power knowing that I’m the one he’s thinking about, the one making his breathing ragged.
“Em,” he groans, his pace increasing. “You’re so fucking sexy.”
I lean forward and kiss him, swallowing his moans as his movements become more urgent. His thighs tense beneath my hand, and I know he’s close to exploding.
“I’m going to—” he starts…
… and, without thinking, I slide down to position myself between his legs.
I take him in my mouth only a second before he comes, but as I look up at his face, I can see his eyes blown wide with shock and pleasure. A moment later, he groans, and explodes in my mouth.
It’s a strange challenge, wanting to catch it all in my mouth, and drink it all down. It’s salty and not particularly pleasant, but the shocked pleasure on his face makes it entirely worth it.
“Holy shit,” he breathes as I sit back up, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. “That was… surprising.”
“Good surprising or bad surprising?” I ask, suddenly self-conscious, and hoping I haven’t screwed things up with him.
“Definitely good.” He pulls me into a lazy kiss, apparently unconcerned about tasting himself on my lips. “But I thought oral sex wasn’t until lesson five.”
“Consider it extra credit,” I reply, making him laugh.
He puts an arm around me and pulls me close, and I try not to think about how right it feels to be in his arms like this. How comfortable. How natural. This is just an arrangement, I remind myself firmly. Not real.
But as we sit there, his heartbeat steady against my back, his warmth enveloping me, I find it increasingly difficult to believe my own lie.
eighteen
LINC
The crowd roarsas we skate onto the ice for warmups. Brown’s always been a rival, and tonight the stands are so packed I can barely see a sliver of the faded blue seats beneath the sea of crimson and black. It’s like everyone on the whole campus is here.
Except for Mike.
I scan the bench where he should be, hoping for a last-minute appearance, but that space remains conspicuously empty, like an accusation in hockey gear. I’ve barely seen him and not spoken to him since our argument, but to miss a game… asshole.
