Page 50 of Your Only Fan
Isaac
His lips are fire on me, his tongue a poison I can’t resist. The weight of his body on me, reassuring.
It’s freeing not having the hood on. Having him touch the skin on my face, feel my lashes flatter under his thumb, the tenderness of his palms on my hair.
He lifts his head, and I feel my lips following his, desperate not to lose the connection, but I fall back when he dips down at my neck and plants a kiss so hard it stings.
Fuck!
I haven’t had hickeys since I was a teen and making out with all the fashionable girls at school. That was before I realized what a flaming queen I was, but that’s besides the point.
It’s fucking hot feeling the intensity of him on me, absorbing me. Imprinting me.
It’s minutes before he moves on to my chest, and I’m pretty sure by this point I’ll have a neck full of bruises to show class tomorrow.
He reaches my nipples, alternating between flicks of the tongue and soft bites that make me shudder.
He notices. His hand comes up behind me and rests on the small of my back that is arched above the bed.
His thumb gently and slowly caresses all the way down to my tailbone and a lustful, almost wild moan rolls out of me and fills the air in the room with more fervor.
He’s never been with me like that. What’s changed? Is it the fact I’m wearing no hood or that there are no cameras to be concerned with.
I mean, I didn’t exactly expect him to come in and fuck me right off the bat like we have been doing for so long… No, actually, that’sexactlywhat I expected.
But this? This is something else.
It’s almost like he’s worshipping my body.
It’s a good thing this isn’t how our first time together went because I doubt I’d be alive to sleep with him again. I’d probably have died from an orgasm-induced heart attack.
His chin rubs between my ribs as he trails further down to lick patterns on my stomach. His skin scratches and tickles me at the same time. He probably didn’t shave this morning, and the mere thought makes me wild.
Ezra is one of those guys that shaves religiously every morning. In fact, I don’t believe I’ve ever seen him with a stubble in the last year he’s been coming to my class or on any of his videos from the last three years.
And every time we’ve been together as Ezra Dixon and Mr. X, his skin has been smooth as a baby’s bottom.
I have no idea if he waxes or if he’s naturally smooth, but there isn’t a trace of hair on his body to be found.
And yet, the light stubble on his face gives me goosebumps.
Perhaps I can get him to grow it. If he looks this gorgeous without facial hair, I can only imagine the kinds of sins men can commit if he grows a beard.
One hand grabs my cock that’s hard as a rock and leaking like a broken tap, and I feel his breath on my crown, making the quiver on my hips spread through all my extremities and my back arch even more.
His hand on my back grips me harder, rougher, and his mouth closes in around me, encasing me in his heat and needy tongue.
“You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?” I groan despite my best efforts to sound half-intelligible.
His mouth pops as he pulls up. The sound only makes me more breathless.
“I have no clue what you’re talking about,” he says and goes back to business.
I like this side of Ezra. He’s always been reciprocal even when I thought he wouldn’t be. But this kind of Ezra? Taking the slow and painful approach?
I can so live with that.
Without warning, Ezra comes back up to my face and gives me a deep, breathless kiss.
