Who Breaks First (Clearwater University)

His pupils are dilating, his breath coming faster. Mine is too, although I hate to admit it. I need to set him up so the camera catches just him in the act of masturbating, but the words I just spoke sent a new spike of arousal shooting through me.

“You’re a dirty fucking girl, Ems,” he murmurs, pulling me toward him and going in for a kiss.

But I squirm out of his grasp, padding over to the bed and crawling up onto the mattress, leaving him horny and wanting. He looks for a second like he might disregard my request, follow me to the bed, throw me down on it, and fuck me until neither of us can move.

He’s clearly curious to see how this plays out though, so he stays right where he is. Good.

“Clothes off, Trent,” I say, and to help him along, I start dragging the fabric of the negligee slowly up my body. His nostrils flare, and he yanks his shirt off, baring his muscled, toned chest and abs. I almost lose track of what I’m doing as the sight of him entrances me. I haven’t seen him shirtless since high school, and holy fuck, he’s grown up a lot since then. There’s a little trail of hair that starts just under his belly button and disappears into the waistband of his jeans, and he’s got a perfectly cut V at the sides of his hips.

Jesus. He’s gorgeous.

He grins, as if he can read every lustful thought in my mind, and gets to work shoving off his pants and shoes. He’s clearly got no hang-ups about his body, and why would he? It’s the kind of body made for licking all over. His thighs are strong and muscled, his waist is narrow, and his cock juts out from his body, hard and thick and leaking precum.

God, I want him.

Shoving down that thought, and the rush of warmth that accompanies it, I grab the bottom of my negligee and slide it slowly off my body. When cool air hits my bare breasts, my already peaked nipples tighten even more. Trent groans, and I look at him, biting my lip.

“You like what you see?”

“Fuck, Emma.”

He sounds truly tortured, and the thrill of satisfaction I get from that is so strong that I can feel even more arousal leaking from my soaked pussy. My panties are absolutely wrecked, wet and slighted twisted on my body from Trent’s rough ministrations earlier. So I get rid of them.

As I shove them down my legs and lift my knees one by one to slide them off, Trent’s hand goes to his cock, as if he can’t fucking help himself. He strokes slow and hard, as if he’s fighting against the urge to make himself come right this second. Trying to make this last.

The sight of his fist working up and down his thick, hard length makes me burn for him, and I shock the hell out of myself by sliding a hand down my stomach and over the mound of my pubic bone. I’ve touched myself before, but never in front of another person. It always felt like something so intimate, more intimate than sex in a way.

Trent’s gaze locks onto my hand, and when I slide my fingers between my wet folds, he lets out a choked grunt, picking up the pace as he jerks himself off harder and faster.

My slick fingertips find my sensitive clit, and I begin to work circles around the hard bud as I watch Trent standing before me. My desk is set up next to my bed, so the camera has a perfect view of him as he works himself almost angrily, low, gruff noises spilling from his mouth as his abs flex and his thighs bunch.

I can’t look away. I can’t tear my gaze from the raw masculinity before me. I find myself extremely jealous of his hand as it works up and down his shaft. I want it to be my hand. I want it to be my pussy.

As if reading my thoughts again, Trent murmurs roughly, “Fuck, I can’t stop thinking about being inside you. How tight and wet you’d be around me. How hard you’d grip me. I’d fuck you until you screamed my name, baby.”

I’m panting, unable to catch my breath. I’m still kneeling on the bed, it’s not enough anymore. I want to let him see everything.

My heart thunders in my chest as I slowly drop down onto my back on the mattress, bending my knees and planting my feet, letting my legs fall open as I slip a finger inside myself, working my tight channel before returning to my clit.

“Oh, God. You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?” Trent chuckles, and I can hear the wet sucking sound of skin against skin as his hand flies over his cock, which looks even thicker and harder, the skin growing a little darker.

It looks angry.

Pissed off.

Like it’s mad as hell, and it needs something to take out all that rage on.

Oh, fuck. Why do I want so badly for that someone to be me?

“I’m not… trying to kill anyone,” I gasp out, my voice a low stutter as I feel tingles of pleasure start to shoot through my entire body.

“Bullshit.” His face is a mask of concentration and desire. “Your body is a killer. Your face is a killer. Your fierce fucking spirit is the worst of all. You were made to bring men to their knees.”

“Am I going to put you on your knees, Trent?” I breathe.

“Not if I get you there first.”

He’s close. He’s so fucking close. I can see it in the way the muscles of his forearms tighten, the way his breathing hitches on every exhale. He’s about to come.