It’s been so long since I’ve had sex—months—a fact that never crossed my mind until this very moment. My dick is throbbing every time he rubs himself along my leg in his sleep.
I should push him off.
Should go to the bathroom to rub one out. Or better yet, my room.
That would be the logical thing to do, but I don’t do that.
Instead, like the pervert I am, I lie here, envisioning all the ways I could take him. It’s obviously crossed my mind, fucking Rowan. Especially since our conversation turned make-out session at the cliffs. Fuck, he was a good kisser. Soft, plush lips, a hot, wet tongue, and a mouth that tasted so fucking good.
I still don’t have a fucking clue why I ran off with that bullshit excuse after we got back from the cliffs. Of course, I wanted him, wanted so much more than that kiss, but something—I don’t know what—stopped me.
With his warm, slightly sweaty body plastered against mine right now, though, I can’t help but wonder what he’d look like completely naked for me.
Is his pubic hair light and scarce like his chest hair is?
Is he cut? Uncut? Thick?
Is his shaft smooth or is it veiny?
Does he prefer to give or take? Both?
I’m so in my head—in my fantasies—that I don’t notice him stirring until he groans, deep and throaty, and he grinds his pelvis into the side of my thigh once more. He doesn’t open his eyes yet, but I know he’s awake based on his breathing. His hand, the one that was resting on my chest, drags down beneath the covers, and a warmth spreads under my skin as I can feel him palming himself. His knuckles brush against my leg, and he lets out a broken breath, the puff of air hot against my flesh.
“Fuck, I’m horny.” His voice is raspy, and that, plus his admission, sends a bolt of electricity through my body, landing directly in my groin.
Huffing out a laugh, I mumble under my breath without meaning to, “That makes two of us.”
Rowan hums, hand skating along my lower stomach. My abs dip and constrict against the faint touch. It’s a tease, and it’s driving me wild. “I could… help you with that,” he murmurs, tone husky. Sultry. He’s not looking up at me; I can’t see his face, but the insinuation is clear.
“Is that so?” I prop my arm under my head against the pillow, peering down at him.
“Mmhmm.”
“And how would you do that?”
He continues to rub along my stomach, the pads of his fingers featherlight. “Well, I could start with my mouth,” he breathes. “Taste you. Get you nice and wet.”
I’m going out of my mind. My cock throbs behind my underwear, so hard, I’m surprised I haven’t broken out of them yet. “And then what?” I ask, lust coating every word.
He shrugs, the gesture so fucking cute with his face slack with sleep. “Then maybe I could climb into your lap and ride you.”
I have to bite the inside of my cheek to stifle a groan.
He glances up at me then, pupils blown, the deep green of his irises barely visible.
“Maybe you should do it, then.”
As if he was waiting on pins and needles for my permission, he wastes no time as his hand dips under the fabric, gripping my stiff length firmly. A groan slips between my gritted teeth as he pumps me slowly. Rowan’s hand is soft and warm, and my eyes roll back when his thumb swipes over the tip, spreading the evidence of my arousal.
He leans forward just as I dip my chin, our lips colliding messily. When he squeezes my length as my tongue sweeps into his mouth, I can’t even find it in me to give a shit about morning breath.
Rowan pulls himself up onto his knees, the blanket sliding down my stomach as he situates himself between my spread thighs. His fingers hook into the waist of my briefs, pulling them down until my cock springs free. An amused look takes over his face as his eyes lift to mine.
“Really?”
I can’t help the bubble of laughter that comes out, already knowing what he’s referencing. “What?” I ask, playing dumb.
His fingers trace the words etched into my skin right across my pubic bone. “What the hell is this?”
