Page 45 of Wrap Around
Why does he wear underwear like that? They're indecent. Tight, black cotton that clings to every bump and ridge of the package they're hardly containing. The black elastic hem hugs the curve of his thigh and round, muscular ass.
He should be wearingboxers. The poofy kind with pleats that make you look shapeless.
Who am I kidding? He'd probably look good in those too.
My mouth is dry. A rash of goosebumps rises across my chest, over my shoulders, and down my back. I feel the hairs on my ass stand on end. I feel wobbly, unsteady on my feet. My toes curl into the fibers of the carpet like they can keep me in place, but I stumble forward. In slow motion, I move towards him, crowding his space until he's backed against the dresser. The dresser thuds against the wall and the television rattles.
My throat feels like it's closing. So when I speak, my voice is low, raspy, and gruff.
"Why?"
"W-why what?"
My eyes rake over him, taking in his nakedness and proximity.
"I was changing into pajamas…"
Likely story.
I surge forward and hold the base of his throat with my hand, pressing into his pulse point to feel how rapidly his heart is beating. I feel like mine has stopped entirely.
I'm half in a trance as I hold him in place, lifting my free hand to trace a finger across his collarbone, then down. When I touch the sharp point of his left nipple, he sucks in a breath. I circle it, thinking—but not clearly—about all the things I want to do to it.Pinch it. Lick it. Suck it. Bite it clean off his body so it can't taunt me anymore.
I watch my finger dip lower, trailing through the dark hair below his navel. I watch in real time as his cock twitches and inflates. As it grows harder and pushes at the front of his underwear, the waistband gapes a tiny bit, providing just enough space for my finger to dip inside. I feel the warm, hard flesh of the base of his cock. I feel and see it throb, and Silas makes a sound that’s a cross between a cut off moan and a choke. Whatever it was, it gets my attention. My eyes flash up to his and get caught there.
I lean in until our noses are touching, side by side, eyes still open. I examine the color of his eyes, currently a gold-flecked brown that's darker than usual, almost the same shade as the ring around the outside. I stare into the depths, and he doesn't blink. Doesn't move.
Doesn't breathe.
I'm not breathing either, I realize, releasing the air I'd trapped in my chest. As the breath moves out of me, he sucks it in, and I move infinitesimally closer. My mouth is touching his, but not moving or kissing. Just pressing against him, daring him to fucking do something about it.
Silas' mouth falls open, his eyes widening and darkening at the same time. A strangled whine vibrates against my open lips. I cock my head, confused.
Without realizing it, my fingers have wrapped around his shaft. I'm holding him in my hand. My grip tightens, and his eyes roll back a little.
Fuck.
My mouth crashes against his, my tongue fucking into his mouth with each stroke of my fist wrapped around his thick, hot length.Wetness spreads over my thumb and forefinger, and Silas whimpers.
I'm looking at him, but I'm not really seeing him. I'm blind with lust and all sense has failed me.
In one swift motion, I flip him around. He scrambles to brace himself with both hands on the dresser and almost knocks the television over. Using my grip on his cock and my arm around his waist, I slide him a few feet to the right to a small desk meant to be used as a writing desk or vanity, knocking several items to the ground. I avoid looking at myself in the mirror, but one of Silas's hands hits the surface to steady himself. My free hand moves down his arm to cover it, pressing it into the glass. My back covers his, and I lean against him.
"Is this what you want?" I say, squeezing his cock and rutting my erection against his ass.
Silas' head falls forward, an almost mournful groan falling from his parted lips.
I repeat myself, and he shakes his head. "Yes," he rasps. "Yes," he says louder when I squeeze and stroke him roughly, spreading his dripping precum down his shaft. His voice sounds weak and shaky. Needy. Desperate.
Removing my hand from around his cock, I lay my hands over the top of both of his and press against them. "Stay."
He stays. He doesn't move, other than a noticeable tremble. Fear? Or arousal?
I hope it's both.
With a quick look around to locate where I dropped my bag, I rifle around until I find my stash of condoms and lube packets. I grab a few blindly, dropping my pants as I stalk back to where Silas is bent over the desk. I keep my gaze zeroed in on the curve ofhis spine and the light dusting of hair at the small of his back. Tossing the supplies on the desk in front of Silas, I have a moment of pause when I see his eyes widen and hear the click of his throat when he swallows harshly, but when his eyes flick up to meet mine in the mirror, there's a determined set to his jaw that both intrigues me and pisses me off. I get a sick sort of satisfaction at hearing his gasp when I roughly tear his slutty briefs down his thighs. But then I nearly fall to my knees, stifling a groan at the sight of his bare ass. Pressing one hand to the middle of his back, and pulling on his hip with the other, I direct him to bend further down. I run my fingertips through the hair on the back of his thighs up to his balls. He flinches and bucks his hips forward.
"Don't. Move." I say, digging my nails into the meat of his ass with a harsh grip. I don't even recognize my own voice. I catch sight of my reflection in the mirror and I don't recognize that, either.
