Page 72 of Perfect Score

He stands there, so close, looking down at me as his thumbs hook into the sides of his boxers. He pulls down on them,pushing them to the ground, and when he stands back up, his cock bobs out in front of him.

It’s as impressive as it felt against me this morning.

My body aches with the need to feel the stretch that Brent could give if he pressed his cock inside me.

When I look up, our eyes meet again.

He’s watching me carefully.

My hands are still on the edge of the bathtub, so I pull myself forward, giving Brent room to slip in behind me.

He takes my cue and steps into the back of the tub. He crouches down to sit and then stretches his legs along the outside of mine. Seeing the contrast of his lighter skin that probably never sees the light of day, and his dark hair, against my spray tan and recently waxed one, this moment almost feels too surreal.

I never imagined I’d ever be naked in a bath with Brent Tomlin.

He wraps an arm around my middle and pulls me back against him.

My outer thighs slide against the inside of his, and the minute his cock slides up my back as he pulls me to him, I hear him muffle back a groan.

“Lie back. I’ve got you,” he says, his deep voice low against the side of my head, just above my ear.

I go willingly as my wet back presses against his solid, dry chest.

My head falls just below his left shoulder, and I feel him reach between us and adjust his erection to run along my back instead of under me like it wants to.

His head leans forward over my right shoulder, his mouth just below my ear.

“I’m going to help you forget whatever you want to tonight,” he says, his hands softly sliding against my belly and up toward my rib cage.

His large hands brush against the base of my breasts, but they don’t go any farther. I arch into Brent, attempting to egg him on without words.

He watches over my shoulder as his hands explore me.

“Is that what you want? You want me to make you remember how fucking gorgeous you are?” he asks, his thumbs and index fingers cupping around the base of my breasts, pushing them up slightly.

I nod while my eyelashes flutter closed to block out all other senses but his touch and voice.

His lips glide along the side of my neck, summoning goosebumps everywhere he touches.

“Can I kiss you here?” he asks, his mouth against my skin.

“Yes,” I tell him, my voice almost breathless.

He kisses me just below my ear, and my clit throbs to his hot, wet mouth against me.

His hands glide over my breasts now, catching my nipples between his index finger and his middle. He clamps down on them, creating a tinge of pain with overwhelming pleasure.

I squirm against him, my back rubbing against his cock. He takes a deep inhale at the friction I’ve created between us.

“He never deserved you, Zoe. You light up every room you walk into. You always have,” he says against my ear as his hands slide up and grip my breasts.

I moan at his touch.

His right hand releases me and begins to travel down my rib cage, over my belly button, and down my leg, his thumb caressing my inner thigh with a tease.

I want to beg him to reach down and touch me. To run his fingers through my folds, but I don’t want to rush this either. I want to enjoy every second with him.

The need is so overwhelming that I might combust before a single finger ever touches me where I need him the most.

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