Page 34 of Savage in the Sheets
“I’m on birth control, and I’m very careful.”
“Shall we get the party started?”
Weston
Jenna leads me to her bedroom, which I’ve been in before, but not with these expectations.
The room is lit well, and I stop her from turning off the lights.
“You’ll learn more if you can see well,” I reason, making a lame excuse because I don’t want anything hindering my view of her. Heck, if I could, I’d point a spotlight on her.
Her bare toes are curled into the carpet, which for some reason, I find adorably cute. Like she’s excited about Christmas morning.
“So, how do you want to do this?” she asks.
“First, I want to make sure we’re on the same page. Kissing—which includes oral—petting, dry humping—without clothes—is that alright with you?”
Her cheeks redden, and I can’t help myself. I bend, encircle her small frame with my arm and push into her lower back, bringing her close to me. I plant a long kiss on her mouth, sucking her lower lip as we break.
“Is that alright with you?” I rasp.
“Yes,” she says, trembling in my arms.
I bring my mouth to hers, and her lips part for mine. I slide my tongue in as she moves against me, like a yin-yang, an ebb and flow of forces. At this point, my passion ignites so fiercely I know it’s going to be a struggle to keep to our agreement.
Without breaking contact, I scoop her up into my arms and bring her to the bed, setting her down on the edge and taking a place beside her.
Her breathing grows erratic, which only stirs my passion. I love that I’m making her feel this way.
I cup her cheek, tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, and whisper, “Touch my chest.”
She obeys, her hand timid and trembling as it presses against my cotton shirt. I run my fingers slowly from her ear, down her neck, and over the tops of her breasts. She sucks in a breath and gasps when I toy with the hem of her dress, but instead of removing it, I draw out her anticipation, feeling her full breasts while they’re constrained by the well-stitched fabric.
“You smell amazing,” I whisper into her ear, which feels like an understatement. Just the smell of her could get me rock hard. It’s utterly provoking.
I run my hand over the curve of her hip, taking satisfaction in how it rests there perfectly, like I was meant to hold her like this. “Did you like your texting session?”
“It was sexy.”
“You didn’t come, did you?” I ask, giving her a dour gaze.
“No. I waited for you.”
“Good.”
I nibble the lobe of her ear, then work my way down her neck. She gives a breathy sigh, her chest heaving in a way that intrigues me. It’s like I want to become Rosie Jetson myself, analyzing her every reaction to my touch.
As I kiss her breasts, I press my hand to hers, guiding it down my chest, over my stomach, to the bulge in my pants. Her hand freezes, and she gasps a cute little sound that makes me chuckle against her pushed-together breasts.
“That’s because of you,” I murmur, then lavish her decadent flesh with my tongue, delving into her cleavage.
“Take it out,” I command.
Her fingers fumble over the button, and it takes her three tries to get it undone, then her hand snakes its way into my boxers.
I’m dizzy with want, thinking of all the places I want to shove my cock. This whole ‘Stages’ fiasco is a torturous form of foreplay, but I cannot deny that there’s an addicting quality to being denied. Already knowing that I won’t be able to bury my cock into her pussy tonight is strangely arousing, and when I finally get to, I’m not sure I’ll even make it all the way in before I explode. That’s what Jenna does to me.
Her hands are not nearly as graceful as her brain, and she fumbles and struggles against my pants.
