Page 53 of Run, Run, Roommates
“Fuck,” Marco says. “All right, let’s go.”
28
Brin
“Do you want the heating pad?” Marco asks when we get home. Our living room is still covered with pillows and blankets from my pillow fort, and the heating pad is down there too.
My lower back does ache, so I say yes, but first I go to the bathroom and pop another Midol. Then I change clothes and when I come out of our room, Marco’s on the floor waiting for me. He’s staring at the Christmas tree in the corner. “You know, I think it looks better here than at William’s,” he says.
“I agree.” I flop down next to him. The heating pad’s already on, and I wiggle into place. Marco props himself up on an elbow and gently rubs his thumb over my stomach.
“Comfy?”
“Yeah.”
“Good.” Then he leans in to kiss me. It’s slow and tender, and when I roll toward him, looking for more, he pushes me back down and settles himself on top of me, between my thighs.
We keep kissing, slow and languid. Marco keeps it that way; anytime I try to push for more, he slows down again until it feels glacial. Drugging.
I finally reach down and pull at the back of Marco’s shirt, lifting it up and over his head. This opens a whole new world for my hands to roam, skin on skin. I get so distracted, Marco breaks our kiss and starts making his way down my neck.
Under my hands, Marco’s back is hot and firm. His muscles under my left hand, the ones that are preventing him from squishing me, are tight, flexed. The other side moves, the shoulder blades under my hand shifting as Marco runs his palm to my ribs.
His mouth moves gently over my neck, the soft skin meeting and sending shivers down my spine. I’m wearing a spaghetti-strap tank top, and Marco nudges the strap with his nose, trailing kisses down my collar bone.
“Why are you going so slow?” I pant out. “I’m not a virgin anymore.” My voice is whiny, needy.
I can feel his smile. “No. I’m going this slow because I want to taste every inch of you.”
I groan and Marco chuckles into my skin. He takes ages exploring across my collar bone, my sternum, and then finally the neckline of my top falls low enough to expose a nipple to his hot mouth.
“My god.” When he sucks on it, my whole body bows. My hands fly to his head, where I can grip his hair in my fingers and keep him right where I want him.
The more he winds me up, the more I feel my body clamping down—my thighs are tight against his torso, enough that I feel like my thighs might have bruises tomorrow.
“Can you touch me? Please.”
Marco lifts his head, smiling, and presses a kiss to the top of my breast. He drags a hand to the waistband of my boxers, hooking both the shorts and my underwear with a finger, but I still it.
“Maybe leave the underwear on?”
He looks up at me. “Of course.” And then he’s pushing the boxers down, I’m kicking them off, and his palm is between my legs, the heel of his hand hitting just so and the pressure is glorious.
He goes back to lavishing my breasts with attention and it’s like a string pulling tight from the crown of my head to the tip of my toes. Marco keeps the pressure steady and circles, circles over and over again until I break with a whimper and gasp, my body bowing up. He kisses my forehead as my whole body pulses.
When I finally relax, he follows me down. “God you’re beautiful,” he says.
My eyelids flutter and I hum in pleasure, contentedness filling an ache I’ve been carrying around for longer than I realized. Being with Marco, under his care, was better than I could have expected.
We lie still for a few moments, Marco lazily touching me. When I feel like I’ve caught my breath, I turn to him. “Is it—nope. Wait. Can I touch you now?”
Instead of answering, Marco rolls to his back. He shoves his pants down and off and holds the base of his dick so it angles straight up. It’s hard and tight, the head already leaking with precum.
I squirm down to be level with it and suck it into my mouth.
“Fuck!” Marco shouts. He pushes me to get off and I sit up.
“What? I thought it was okay!”
