Page 74 of Wild Love
“Which one? You pick.”
“Crazy, Stupid, Love.” The other is a Tarantino film, and gore is not my thing.
“You just want to stare at Ryan Gosling for two hours.” He sits next to me, and Charli crawls over me to get to him before settling on the other side of him.
“Duh.”
He tickles my sides and pulls me so my back rests against his chest. His arm circles around me, and his palm splays over the top of my thigh. I keep waiting for the weirdness, but it never comes.
For the next two hours, he doesn’t make any attempt to make out with me, and somehow that makes me want him even more. Did I say I wanted to take things slow? Because what I really think I meant is I’m not ready for sex. I want everything else, though. The bottles of lube are taunting me.
“I love Steve Carell,” he says. “We should do a binge ofThe Office.”
“Yeah,” I agree, not really thinking about it. He sits forward and grabs the remote so he can navigate to it, and he plays season one, episode one.
When he sits back, I place my hands on his shoulders and sling a leg over him, so I’m straddling his lap. An amused smile tips up the corners of his mouth. “Need something?”
“Sex is off the table. For now,” I clarify. “But I want to take care of you.”
“I took care of myself while you were stalling in your room.” He winks. “I’m good, Kota.”
His arms circle my waist. I can feel him hard underneath me despite his saying he’s good.
I lean back and grab the lube. “Which do you prefer?”
“That one.” He nods toward the one that tingles with a giant smirk on his handsome face.
I toss the other one back on the coffee table and scoot off his lap, then drop between his legs.
“Oh fuck,” he says as if he can’t believe this is actually happening.
He stands and pulls me to my feet. “Bedroom. I’ve been fantasizing about having you touch my dick in there for so long.”
He pulls me along behind him. It smells like Johnny in here. I don’t get a good look around because the lights are off, and he kisses me while bringing us down to the mattress. His kisses are possessive and hungry. Nipping, licking, biting, groaning. Just like he does everything else, it’s all out with nothing left to the imagination. When I do something he likes, he makes sure I know it either by verbally responding in grunts and groans or pumping his hips against me.
We lie on our sides, kissing until I hook a finger under the band of his sweats, letting his dick spring free. He helps me get them off and continues to kiss me. I turn my head, and he lavishes my neck while I uncap the lube and squirt some in my hand.
He’s thick and long, and it twitches when I wrap my fingers along the base. I work my hand up and down, coating him in the liquid.
I’m wearing another baggy T-shirt, and he ducks his head under it, eliciting a laugh from me. It’s cut short when he bites my nipple through the lace of my bra. He does the same to the other and then sucks hard until my nipple peaks.
While I pump my hand around his length, he kisses everywhere he can access.
“Does it tingle?” I ask.
He pops out from under my shirt and pulls my bottom lip between his teeth. “Touch yourself and find out.”
I hesitate, and he guides my hand down my shorts, encouraging me. My fingers are wet from the lube and warm from his skin, and I don’t know which is hotter, that or the way he watches me while gripping himself and pumping in slow, steady jerks.
“Does it feel good?”
“I liked your fingers on me better,” I admit. “But yeah.”
“Tradesies?”
Smiling, we switch, and he dives his fingers eagerly into my shorts, taking over as I try to mimic the way he was jerking himself.
For the second time tonight, my orgasm builds as he rubs my clit.
