“My turn,” he murmurs, pulling my shirt up. His eyes fall on the tattoo I have on the side of my chest. A bar of music and a bluebird woven together. A grin tips his mouth. “I love it.”
Then he makes quick work of ridding me of my jeans and shoes, leaving me spread before him in nothing but my bra and panties.
“My turn,” I echo, sitting up and unbuttoning his jeans, shoving them down with his underwear, revealing his cock. I gasp as it bounces free, so long and thick and hard that I have to wrap my hand around it, have to dip my mouth down for a taste of the bead of precum on the tip.
Evan groans. “Tatum. God. That feels so good.”
I smile, loving that I’m making him feel this way. Holy shit. It hits me like a freight train. I’m about to take Evan Anderson’s cock inside my mouth. Mind. Blown.
I lick a circle around the head, then drag my tongue down his length. I work my way back up slowly, my eyes on his, then press him between my lips, going down as far as I can, loving
how he fills my mouth.
It’s not long before his groaning and swelling, and he jerks me off of him in a hurry. “No. Need to be inside you. Promised you I’d make you cum over and over.” He winks, pulling a condom from his pants and rolling it on quickly.
He crawls on top of me, unhooking my bra and tossing it aside. Then he licks his way down my stomach to my panties, grabbing them with his teeth and dragging them down my legs. It has to be one of the hottest things I’ve ever seen. Then he licks his way back up my inner thigh, settling his head between them and licking my pussy until I’m writhing on the bed, begging him to fuck me.
With a growl, Evan grabs my hips and yanks me to the edge of the bed, pulling my legs up to rest on his shoulders. I feel his cock pressing at my entrance. Pressing inside. Slowly filling me up, sliding all the way inside, stretching me in the best possible way.
Then we begin to move, our bodies in sync, both needy and desperate.
“Tatum,” he moans. “I’ll take my time with you. Later. Right now I have to have you.”
I couldn’t agree more. “Yes. Fuck me, Evan. Fuck me hard.”
He does, pounding into me over and over until I feel like I’m about to explode. And as he swells inside me, his cock becoming impossibly thicker, I feel myself clenching and pulsing, an electric current running through my body, setting off sparks as I cum so damn hard. And Evan’s coming too. Pumping deep inside me while we both cry out in pleasure.
I gasp for breath, my body shaking with the intensity of the orgasm, and then he’s there beside me, scooping me up and cradling me against him.
Oh my god. I just had sex with Evan Anderson.
I laugh. It seems impossible.
He nuzzles my neck. “That was incredible.”
I sigh contentedly. “I think I saw stars.” I angle my head to look at him, shaking it with disbelief. “Well, one, anyway.”
He kisses my shoulder. “Just wait, baby. I have big plans for you. I’m not going to let you out of this bed for any reason until I have to leave for my show tomorrow night.”
Gravity is playing back-to-back sold-out shows because they’re so huge.
“Sounds like a plan to me.”
He makes good on it. And I go to his show the next day, watching from backstage. Then we go back and do it all over again.
Part Ten
Ana & Oliver
Ana
I scroll through my phone, looking for something fun to do later after school. It’s going to be a long freaking day. I hate the first day of classes. It’s always just a bunch of introductions and syllabus handouts. I’d much rather stay in bed.
Sighing, I glance up and look around me on the train. It would be a whole lot easier to live on campus instead of at my sister’s place out in Brooklyn. It’s a lot closer to all the action. I love going to NYU. Well, all except the classes part.
My eyes pause on a man sitting across from me reading on an e-reader. Short cropped hair, just a bit longer on top like he’s going for professional but not quite there. Wire-rimmed glasses, button up shirt, and a man bag sitting near his feet scream that the dude is a grad student. Probably in the psych department, if I had to guess.
As if he feels my scrutiny, he glances up from whatever he’s reading—probably some Freudian mumbo jumbo—and his eyes lock with mine.