He shakes his head. “It's hot as hell, you spreading your legs for me. Your bare ass on my hockey sweatshirt. Fuck it,Friedline left after the game to go to his girlfriend’s apartment. He’ll never know.”
“See? It’s a really good idea. And I’m ready, now, Van. I don’t want to wait.” The heat in his eyes empowers me, so I brush his hand away and shimmy out of my jeans. I’m laid bare before him, but I don’t want to cover up.
I’ve had sex a few times, but none of them were remarkable. I dated a guy back in high school who was nice, but just as clumsy and unskilled as I was. David knew the basic mechanics, and that was about it. He never made sure I came, and he definitely didn’t talk dirty the way Van does.
“You are so fucking pretty, Josie,” he says, tracing a finger across my collarbone, over each breast, and down my body until he reaches my center. Lifting his hand to his mouth, he runs his tongue across the pads of his fingers, never breaking eye contact with me. Then he trails those fingers across my hip and over my mound. “It’s like you were made for me. Like somebody saw my filthy dreams and brought you into existence.”
His words make me blush. I’m not the best at accepting compliments, but when Van speaks, I believe him. I’m not worried that my boobs are too small, or my hips are too full incomparison. I’m not self-conscious about the fact that I’m not toned and tanned the way some girls on campus are, or that my hair is probably a tangled mess.
I bloom under his heated gaze.
I revel in his attention.
I come alive for his touch.
“I had a dream about you, Jos,” he says, his voice soft as his fingers languidly sweep across my mound. “Is that bad? Shit, should I be telling you this?”
“That depends,” I answer, leaning forward and reaching for the waistband of his jeans. The gasp he emits when I undo the button makes me feel invincible. It’s entirely illogical that I have this effect on Beckett Vandaele, but it’s also undeniable. The evidence is right in front of me: thick and heavy, hard and ready. “Was it a bad dream?” I ask.
“It was a fucking wet dream, Jos.”
Now it’s my turn to gasp. I bite my lip as heat rushes to my center. The thought—the image—of Van dreaming about me and taking himself in hand has me melting into a lustful little pile of wantonness.
“I came in my sleep, Josie. I haven’t done that since fucking middle school. I woke up to find my hand on my dick. My sheets were a mess. And I reached for you. I looked over, but you weren’t there. I want you there in my bed, next to me all night long.”
“I want that, too,” I say, breathless as his fingers breach my opening.
“You wanna know what I did next?”
“What?” I pant as he fills me up only to pull away again. He repeats this little game a few times until I’m messy and insatiable.
“I closed my eyes and thought about that day last week in your dorm. Remember? I put my mouth on you and it wasso good. You taste like candy, Jos. Like fucking sugar and I’m addicted.”
His words turn me on and some part of me should be embarrassed because I’m surely making a mess of his sweatshirt, but when he rubs my clit in the same rhythm his fingers pump into me, I can’t find the energy to care.
“I thought about you—about the way you taste, the way you moan. The way these pretty tits bounce when I finger you. The way you came on my face.”
“Van—” His name is a breath, a cry, a warning on my lips. My legs tremble as I spread them wider.
“I gripped my dick again. I was still hard. One dirty dream wasn’t enough. I don’t think anything ever will be. I kept thinking about the taste of you on my lips, about how good it’s gonna feel when I get inside you, about all the ways I’m gonna get you wet and ready for me.”
I lean forward again and swipe at his jeans, trying my best to tug them down. It’s a struggle and he takes pity on me, hooking his left hand in a pocket and pulling down. He does the same with his boxers and soon he’s gloriously naked in front of me. He continues to drive me crazy with his fingers and thumb. I’m so close; I can feel it.
“That’s what did it for me—the thought of you just like this—naked and flushed, greedy for more, taking everything I give you. I came so fucking hard all over my hand and all I could think about was being with you. I want you any way I can get you, Jos. I’ll come on your tits, if that turns you on. Or your belly, your thighs. Is that what you want? You want me to make you a pretty mess?”
His words send me over the edge. Because I want all of that, and so much more. This all feels so good, and it’s just the beginning. My orgasm rolls through my body. Van swearsas my channel chokes his fingers. I’ve never felt this good, this free, in my whole life.
“That’s it, Josie. God, you're beautiful,” he tells me, leaning down to give me a kiss.
I can tell he wants to hold me, and I want that, too, but not yet.
“I want you,” I tell him, my words plain and my meaning clear.
“Are you sure? Here?”
“Here,” I say. “Now. Your fingers felt so good, but I need more. I want more. I want you.”
He rips a little foil packet quickly and I don’t even stop to think if he got it from his wallet or nabbed it off his teammate’s nightstand. It doesn’t matter. He’s sheathed himself and that means he’s one step closer to giving me what I want.
