All Played Out (Rusk University 3)

“If I wanted to use my mouth on you,” she says, “would you teach me?”

Holy fuck, I’ll never get tired of how direct and honest she is.

“I will teach you absolutely anything you want to know.” She starts to drop to her knees, but I catch her around the waist, pulling her in tight against me. “But not right now. Tonight is about you. I’m the one who gets to learn now.”

She looks disappointed at first, but when I caress her thigh, sliding up the curve of her ass, she doesn’t complain. I shift her backward until her knees hit the bed, and then I guide her to sit. Her bed is low enough that she’s in the perfect position to take me into her mouth, and even though I want it—God, I want it so bad—I force myself to step back.

I kneel in front of her and pull her in for a kiss. Some of my need bleeds through, and our movements are fast and hard instead of the slow seduction I’d been aiming for. But as much as I long for control, it’s not something I know how to keep around her. I want her too badly.

When we both need air, I break away from the kiss and push her backward until she lies flat on the bed. Her arms fly out to her sides, and the rise and fall of her chest makes my mouth water, and as much as I love her in that bra, I want her out of it. Leaning over her, I slide my hands beneath her back to the clasp. She parts her legs around me, hooking her ankles behind my back.

The hooks of her bra come undone at the same time that she lifts her hips, arching her body up so that her center rubs against the muscles of my abdomen. She wants the friction she found that night in my truck, and it would be so easy to shift a little higher, lay myself on top of her, and align our hips. But there’s something beyond sexy about the needy way she writhes against me. I can feel her damp underwear against my skin, and I want to just stay where I am and glory in her uncontrolled actions. Before, I had to work to get her loosened up, to get her to give herself over to the pleasure, but not anymore.

I had intended to taste her, to bring her to the edge that way so that the rest might be easier for her, but now I have a different idea. If I can survive it.

I tell her to move back on the bed, up toward the pillows, and then I crawl onto the mattress beside her. I pull her onto her side to kiss her, and I feel her naked chest crushed against mine for the first time since our night in the pool. It had been good then. Incredible really, but it’s nothing compared to this. Reaching down, I trail my fingers down her thigh until I get to her knee, then with one swift pull, I drag her leg up and over my hip. She gasps and digs her fingernails into my bicep, but I’m not done. Not by a long shot. Slowly, I roll to my back, gripping her hips to bring her with me until she’s astride my hips.

“Sit up,” I say.

She looks nervous, but she complies. And fuck, she looks good on top of me. Her hair is wild, and her tits are flushed a pretty pink.

“Put your hands on my chest.”

She does, laying her palms flat against my pecs. Holding her hips, I shift her until my cock is trapped between her and my stomach, the length pressed against her pussy. The only thing between us is a pair of black silky underwear, slick with her arousal.

Guiding her hips like I did in the truck, I whisper, “Move.”

Tentative at first, she flexes forward, sliding along my length.

“I want to watch you,” I tell her. “I want to see you take what you want. Don’t think. Just react. Listen to what your body tells you. Move any way that feels good.”

This time she’s bolder, leaning her weight into her hands so that she can grind her hips down into mine. The pressure on my cock hurts so fucking good, and I have to struggle to keep my breaths steady. She arches her back, pushing herself down the length of me before rocking back up. Faster, she does it again. And again.

Her breasts swing with her movements, and I reach up to cup them in my hands. She cries out, increasing her pace, until the friction of her dragging against me is almost more than I can bear.

But she’s too gorgeous like this. I can’t stop her. I won’t. Not when she’s so completely lost to her desires. I roll her nipples between my fingers, and her movements become erratic, her thighs flexing on both sides of me, and she whimpers something too low for me to hear.

“What, beautiful? What is it?”

“Please,” she whines, her dilated eyes meeting mine. “It’s not enough. Please.”

I drag her down for a kiss, and she clings to me, her hands wrapping around my shoulders and squeezing tight. Then, while her mouth is against mine, I reach down and rip the seam on the hip of her underwear. I throw it away, and then the head of my cock brushes against her slick center.

She breaks away from the kiss with a gasp, resting her forehead against mine as she pants against my mouth.

“It’s going to hurt,” I tell her. “But you’re in control. You want to stop. You stop. You want to move. You move.”

She nods, and I guide myself to her opening.

“Wait!” she cries. “Condom.”

Fuck. Fuck. I have never in my entire life forgotten a condom. It’s always at the forefront of my mind. Something about her throws me completely off my game.

“Sorry,” I say, at a loss. “I didn’t mean to . . . I just . . . Jesus, Nell, you’re so fucking glorious to watch, I lost my head.”

I start to shift her off to the side, but she stops me. “There’s some in the drawer of my nightstand.”

I lift an eyebrow, and she shrugs. “I like being prepared.”

And it’s a good thing she is. Because the last thing I want to do is climb off this bed to rummage through my jeans. She leans over to open the drawer, and then pulls out an entire box.

“I wasn’t sure what kind to get, so I did some research on the Internet.”

I groan. I can only imagine the kind of research she’s done, knowing how thorough she likes to be.

“They’re perfect,” I say, impatiently tearing open the box and removing a packet. She shifts back onto my thighs, and her eyes watch, fascinated, as I roll the rubber down my length.

I never could have predicted how good this would feel with her. I knew I liked her, I knew my attraction to her was off the charts. But it’s the little things, the way each moment holds interest for her. Each new touch, each new experience . . . she soaks it all up, and it turns my head around. I can’t help but feel like I need to imprint every moment of this evening on my memory, too, to make sure I remember how perfect she was, how much joy there is in her. I don’t want to forget one second of what it’s like to be her first.