Page 60 of Unsteady

He licks another long swipe, before circling my clit.

Good god, I’m going to melt into the floor. My entire body alight, and I’m embarrassingly close already. I keep avoiding looking down towards him, my head tilting back against the brick.

“This is exactly how I pictured it.” He breathes in, almost like he didn’t mean to say it.

My head tilts down towards him with a smirk alighting my lips—like I might regain control.

“What? A dingy locker room shower stall?”

He huffs out a laugh, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he presses his entire mouth to my clit, sucking hard.

“Fuck,” I gasp.

I slip a little, enough that my hands reach for him, before sinking into his soft brown hair. My nails scrape his scalp a little as he circles me in some witchcraft-like pattern that has me gasping like I’ve been underwater and I’m just breaking the surface.

He groans, jolting my thigh higher, just over the ball of his shoulder. His big hands are holding me nearly off the ground completely, my toes scrambling, and my shoes squeaking as I writhe.

One hand still melded to my ass, squeezing every few moments, he takes his right hand and gently parts me, sliding one finger into me. I cry out, far too loud, but he lets a pleased noise rumble from his plush mouth against my clit. I jerk, but he steadies me, sliding another finger in, speeding his lips and tongue to contrast with the firm, slow stroke of his fingers.

He curls them, just slightly and I make the mistake of looking down at him.

His brown eyes are glowing, locked intently on my face, watching my every move. And then he smirks, letting me see just one goddamn dimple.

I go off like a rocket.

“Already?” he teases, as I pulse around his fingers, gripping them. My shoe squeaks again against the tile beneath me as he puts me back onto my foot. Then, on both feet, after he gently kisses the inside of my thigh as he pulls it from his shoulder. “Fucking perfect. So beautiful.”

A lump catches in my throat.

He’s still on his knees, his hands gentle on the curve of my calves. His hands find my discarded underwear, and after helping me step into them, he pulls them up my legs.

My heart stutters as he presses another kiss to the fabric, this one more reverent than sensual and I hate the way it makes me ache. The way, “Do you want to come home with me?”almost spills from my lips. I feel vulnerable, undone, and somehow more full of feeling than before—not the usual emptiness and restraint I feel after a hookup.

Dangerous, my brain repeats, but my body is ready to tackle him to the floor.

So, after he helps me with my spandex, taking his time sliding it over my legs, smoothing his palms over covered and uncovered skin, I grip his wrists and pull him to stand. Ready to take control back. Ready to—

He lifts his hand, his wrist still enclosed in my hand, and presses his fingers into his mouth.

Whatever noise comes from my lips, some sort of whine in the back of my throat, turns my cheeks maroon. Yet, I can’t look away as he pulls his long fingers from his swollen lips.

He’s everything.

The way I think about him scares me. I need distance before this really hurts. And yet—

“We should do this more.”

His smile is like spun gold. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” I repeat, feeling a bit like I’m floating. “Yeah, actually, I think this would be good for us both. You need a distraction and I need a… release.”

Something dies in his eyes, his dimples disappearing. It throbs a little pain in my chest, but I ignore it.

“What do you mean, exactly?”

I shrug and play at the hem of my shirt. “Like… hook up? Unless you don’t—”

His hand raises to stop me.

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