Page 82 of Smut
We don’t say anything. There’s nothing to say with words.
I grab her hand and lead her to my bedroom, a place she’s only poked her head in before. It feels strangely sacred now, as if I haven’t had dozens of lovers in this bed, as if it’s been pure and waiting for her—a blank slate.
She goes to the bed and sits on the edge of it, kicking off her sandals and staring up at me with big eyes while I slowly disrobe. I unbutton my shirt first before tossing it across the room, and I see her eyes drink me in, gazing hungrily at the hard ridges of my abs, the firm pecs on my chest. She even seems to appreciate the light dusting of chest hair and the treasure trail leading from my navel down along the sleek planes of my hips. I’ve always had good genes from my mother’s side, and my daily trips to the gym downstairs have paid off.
My pants go next but she’s seen this show before. That doesn’t mean she doesn’t drink me in though, thirsty for it as my cock juts out in front of me, hard as it’ll ever be. She’s practically breathless and wide-eyed as she stares, looking a trifle intimidated despite everything.
It’s exactly what my ego wants to see.
“Lie back,” I tell her gruffly as I get on the bed and crawl toward her, my thick shaft bobbing between us. I put my hands on her shoulders and nudge her back while I settle over top of her. I run my thumb over her lips, pushing gently until her lips wrap around the tip. She sucks softly and I feel the jolt right through me, all the way to my toes.
“I don’t think you realize what you do to me,” I murmur to her, one hand moving her skirt up around her hips. I remove my thumb and pull her tank top over her head as she arches back to let me. I toss it beside the bed as she deftly undoes her bra.
I stare down at her full breasts, so perfect, spilling to the sides. They seem to glow in the room, pure and flawless, her dark pink nipples hardening before my eyes. I can’t help but grin and gently blow air across them. She arches her back again, and I watch her skin prickle as I trace the goosebumps across her chest with my tongue.
She makes this breathy, gaspy sound and I press my body down on top of her so she can feel how hard, long, and ready I am. Her eyes widen but they aren’t afraid. She knows now that she can handle it and handle it well.
I reach over to my bedside table for a condom packet, my pulse racing in my wrist, and I spread her legs apart with my knee. I breathe her in, the smell of our sex earlier hitting me like a fucking tonic.
I pause, even though my body is like a bomb ready to trigger, and take it all in. Amanda. Here in my bed. Not groping with our clothes on at her place, not fucking in the library, but here in my bed, naked and vulnerable below me. I know that few men have seen this view before, to have this trust from someone who holds her cards so close to her chest.
This means a lot more to me than I first thought it would. It means a lot more than she could possibly know.
I rip the condom open, sheathing the thin latex over my length. My eyes are drawn to Amanda’s as she watches freely in fascination, no rush here now. There’s nothing but time and the two of us as she slowly removes her skirt until it’s dangling from her foot.
Once the condom is on, I take a shaking breath and lower myself down to her, keeping all my weight on one arm as my free hand snakes between her legs. My eyes close at the feel of her warmth—she’s like a hot summer night and I could drown in her headiness.
I bury my head into the crook of her neck, making small, quick bites along her delicate skin until I find the soft, delicate lobe of her ear. I lightly tug on it between my teeth until she moans, her fingers digging into my shoulders, just like she was earlier.
Trying to steady my breath, I slide my hand up to her cunt and a low, guttural groan rises up from my chest. She feels like heaven—just as plump and silky as before, and absolutely wet.
“You’re so perfect,” I tell her as I push two fingers inside her tight little hole. The way she squeezes around them, holding me, makes my eyes momentarily roll back in my head. My cock swells to the breaking point and I’m not sure how much longer I can hold back. I’m practically panting, working her like this, and she squirms, her head rolling from side to side, that mouth of hers wet and open. Wanting more.
Her breath catches, and her round, pale breasts heave upwards. I run my tongue over her nipples, hard pebbles that respond to my every touch, every smooth lick, and she groans again, louder this time. I want to take her to the limit, I want her inhibitions stripped. I want to watch it all. I push my fingers in further and the groan deepens. Her hips jerk upward, again and again, nearly desperate. Watching her writhe and moan underneath me, from just my fingers feels better than any drug.
I can’t take much more. I make a fist around my rigid shaft and position it at her entrance. Her eyes flutter open as I slowly rub my swollen head up and down her silky cleft, taking my time to tease her, to tease myself.
Keep it together Crawford, I tell myself. Go slow.
It’s the hardest thing. Every nerve in my body is ready to slam into her sweet depths and fuck her until we’re off the bed. It takes all my strength to slowly ease my way inside her. She’s so hot and wet as I slowly push my way in that I begin to shake. I pause and take in a deep, wavering breath before I continue.
Her face contorts as I push. She’s so fucking tight, like a vise. Both of us are breathing hard, sweat building on my brow, our skin damp. When I’m in deep, I slowly pull out again, watching my cock as it withdraws, glistening with her juices.
Heaven. Simply put.
She lies beneath me, her legs hooked around the back of mine, looking too gorgeous for words. Seeing her on the verge of ecstasy like this is part of the problem. I can’t take my eyes away and the more I watch her, the more I want to explode.
I slowly pull out and then reach down and hook my arm under her.
“Up,” I whisper roughly as I flip her over so she’s on her stomach. “Hips up, peach.”
She moves back slightly so that her hips and stomach raise off the bed, and she grabs the edge of the blanket, curling her fingers around it.
The sight of her like this gets me even harder, that perfect arse that I’ve lusted over all year now bare and round in front of me. I can see a small freckle on the left cheek and I dip my head down to nip it.
“Ow,” she cries out softly.
“Sorry,” I say. “Couldn’t help myself there.”