Page 86 of Devious Obsession
“I just want to see if you’d come like this,” I murmur. “You can grind on me if you need to.”
Her face flushes. She went with makeup today, dark-blue stuff on her eyelids and dark-red lipstick. I’d love to kiss her senseless, but then Coach would really know that we were up to no good.
“Touch yourself,” I say under my breath.
Her eyes flash, and she lifts her head. She’s not so tall that she’s visible above the headrests of the seats. I can see if I crane my head, but she should be okay. Which means that we’re in our own little bubble with no one in our row.
Still… I say it knowing that she’ll refuse.
And then she actually fucking does it.
I like that she surprises me. I like that I can guess a hundred different scenarios and she’ll pick the least likely, the one that I never saw coming. Of course, there are other ways that I can read her like a book.
For example, the way her breathing hitches when I roll her nipples between my fingers and tug. Or when I palm her whole breast, my fingers digging into her flesh, and her eyes lose focus.
Her hand slides into her jeans, and she fucking touches herself. She tips her head back and lets out a soft moan like a quiet porn star, and I rip my hand out from under her shirt to cover her mouth.
She stares at me, eyes wide, and her hand in her pants moves faster.
My cockthrobs. I might actually combust just from watching her, and the movement of her body so close to it is the sweetest torture.
I press my hand harder to her mouth, stopping the escape of certain noises that woulddefinitelygive us away. Her lips slide against my palm, and then her tongue flicks out.
“Fuck,” I groan. “You’re mine after the game.”
I pinch her nipple, and she whimpers.
Her eyes dilate, and she grinds down on my thigh. Her back arches, and her body goes tense as her orgasm overtakes her. I absorb it all and try not to blow my load just from the sight. After a minute, she comes back down to earth.
She pulls her hand from her pants, her fingers wet. She glances from them to me, then smears them across my lips.
Jesus Christ.
I open my mouth, and her two fingers slip in. I close my lips around her digits and taste her, not releasing them until they’re clean. I slip my hand out from under her shirt and remove my other one from her mouth. Her dark-red lipstick is smeared a bit, across her cheek. And there’s a messy print of her lips on my palm.
I ball my fist, protecting the mark. I’m not going to fucking wash that off until I have to, that’s for sure.
Aspen sags against me. She hooks her bra back together, fixing it under her shirt while she leans on my chest.
I wrap my arms around her and hold her against me.
The music is still playing in our ears, and I find that I don’t even mind listening to her classical shit.
Eventually, my hard-on goes away. Sort of. There’s no way I’m going totally soft with the gorgeous girl sitting on my lap, playing with my hair, but it’s not raging to the point of poking her eye out.
“You’re supposed to be wearing my jersey,” I say at some point. Time has passed, that’s for sure, but neither of us have moved. Just her fingers in my hair, twisting it and scratching at my scalp in a way that feels too good to be real.
“You didn’t give it to me,” she says, picking her head up from my chest.
I smirk at her messed-up lipstick and wipe at it with my thumb. She frowns and lets me do it, cleaning up the dark red until it’s contained to her lips again.
Her lip print is still on my palm, though. Right where I want it.
Well… I can think of better places.
But my palm is good for now.
“I brought a spare,” I inform her. “And we’re sharing a room.”
