Page 59 of Prince Material
“You know what.” Even after the weekend we’d spent together, even after the kisses and touches we’d shared, I still found it hard to say these things out loud.
“Hmm, I’m not sure I do,” Floris teased, leaning down so his lips were inches from my ear. “Perhaps you should enlighten me.”
A shiver ran down my spine. “I should be working. This paper is 20 percent of my grade.”
“And it will still be 20 percent of your grade after you take a short break,” Floris reasoned, his breath warm against my skin. “You’ve been staring at the screen for hours. Your brain needs to reset.”
The responsible, disciplined part of me—the part that had gotten me a full scholarship to VTC, the part that triple-checked every calculation, the part that never missed a deadline—was screaming at me to turn back to the laptop. But then Floris’s lips brushed against the sensitive spot just below my ear, and the responsible part of me was drowned out by a chorus of other, less disciplined urges.
“Twenty minutes,” I said, my voice embarrassingly breathless. “Then I really need to work.”
Floris’s answering smile was both victorious and hungry. “Twenty minutes.”
He took my hands and pulled me up from the chair. We moved to my bed, the narrow dorm mattress creaking slightly under our combined weight. Floris lay back against the pillows, pulling me down on top of him. For a moment, we just looked at each other, the air between us charged with possibility.
Then Floris’s hand came up to cup my cheek, his thumb tracing the line of my cheekbone with a tenderness that made my chest ache. “I missed you today,” Floris whispered. “Was thinking about kissing you again all day.”
The words sent a different kind of shiver through me—not desire this time, but fear. How long would Floris want me? How long before the novelty wore off? Before Floris realized that I wasn’t special, wasn’t extraordinary, wasn’t enough?
But then Floris was kissing me, and I couldn’t think at all.
Floris kissed the way he did everything else: confident,thorough, with a single-minded focus that made me feel like the center of the universe, as if nothing else existed but us. His lips were soft, coaxing my mouth open, his tongue sliding against mine in a way that made heat pool in my stomach. It was overwhelming and exhilarating, a powerful and much-needed reminder that he wanted me, even if I couldn’t quite figure out why.
My hands found their way to Floris’s chest, palms flat against the warm skin, feeling the steady thump of his heart. Floris hummed appreciatively against my mouth, one hand sliding down to grip my hip, the other tangling in my curls, pulling me impossibly closer until I was completely surrounded by him.
We’d done this before, the kissing, the touching, the exploration of each other’s bodies. But each time felt new somehow, a fresh discovery. I marveled at the way Floris responded to my touch, the small catches in his breath, the way his pulse quickened beneath my fingertips.
Floris broke the kiss, his lips trailing down my jaw, my neck, finding the sensitive spot at the hollow of my throat. A soft sound escaped me, something between a gasp and a moan.
With a fluid motion, Floris flipped our positions, pressing me back against the pillows. His hands slid under the hem of my T-shirt, pushing it up to expose my torso. I raised my arms, allowing Floris to pull the shirt over my head.
Floris took a moment to look at me, his gaze traveling over my chest, my shoulders, down to the trail of dark hair disappearing beneath the waistband of my jeans. “You’re beautiful,” Floris said, with such sincerity that I almost believed him.
I wanted to argue with him, but it seemed senseless anyway. He was as stubborn as I was, so what was the use? Instead, I pulled him down for another kiss, deeper this time, hungrier. Floris made a pleased sound against my mouth, his handsroaming over my chest, thumbs brushing over my nipples in a way that made me arch against him.
Floris broke the kiss again, but only to move lower, his lips tracing a path down my neck, my chest, my stomach. When he reached the waistband of my jeans, he paused, looking up through his lashes. I nodded my consent.
With deft fingers, Floris unbuttoned my jeans, sliding them down my legs along with my boxers. The cool air of the dorm room hit my heated skin, making me shiver—or maybe that was the way Floris was looking at me, like I was something precious, something worth savoring.
Floris maintained eye contact as he lowered his head, his breath warm against my most sensitive skin. And then his mouth was there, hot and wet and perfect as it wrapped around my cock, and for a moment, my mind went completely, blissfully blank. All the worry and stress melted away as he alternated between gentle, teasing licks that danced across my skin and taking me deeper with a practiced rhythm.
Wait.
I didn’t want to do this again, with Floris giving me oral and not being able to return the favor. He couldn’t always be the one to give and not get back in equal measure. No, I needed to learn this. I wanted to learn this. I wanted to make Floris feel what I had felt, wanted to see him come undone the way he’d sent me sky high back in New Orleans.
I gently pulled him off my cock.
Floris looked worried. “Everything okay? Did I do?—”
“Show me how to do that. I want to try.”
A flash of surprise crossed Floris’s face, quickly replaced by desire. “You don’t have to.”
“I want to learn. Will you teach me?”
Floris swallowed hard. “Okay, but you can stop any time you want. If you don’t like it, or if your jaw gets tired, or?—”
I silenced him with a kiss. “I want this. I want you.”
