35. Lizzy
If he doesn’t wantto bang me after this, there is no hope for him.
I’m exhausted after blowing him but know that like a good boy, he’ll return the favor—but I don’t want it here, in the bathroom. Brodie was so loud when he came there’s no doubt his roommates heard the ruckus, though to be honest: I’m glad.
Not a voyer but don’t mind putting on a show.
My mouth is sore, jaw feeling a bit bruised.
Blow jobs are no joke.
They are not for the faint of heart and if you’re going to go at it go at it hard.
That’s one way to inspire loyalty in a guy—a good BJ every once in a while will have him following you around like a puppy dog…
Brodie is no exception, swallowing me up in the massive bath towel, wrapping me in it before planting a kiss on the top of my head, then wrapping his big arms around me.
“Still cold?”
I shake my head. “Not even a little.”
The water had been scalding hot and burnt every bit of chill out of my body and we gather up our clothes—but don’t put them back on. Not that I want to put on clothes I’ve already worn, but you get what I’m saying:
We have no intention of getting dressed.
Eagerly, I follow him back to his bedroom, the short trip down the hallway laced with tension; I need his roommates to stay in their bedrooms and not poke their heads out so I close the door, making sure it is locked.
Modesty and all that…
With a playful grin, Brodie pushes me gently onto his bed, his eyes dark with desire as he hovers above me, towel wrapped around his trim waist. I want to tug it off so it drops to the ground, so I can stare at his gorgeous dick.
My mouth is forever watering at the thought and frankly, I feel the need to point out how he’s one lucky bastard, because I can’t stop thinking about his wiener. But now isn’t the time because Brodie is all business.
”Are you ready to continue our fun?” he whispers, his voice low and husky with promise as he gets down on his knees, pulling me to the edge of the bed and pulling my towel off.
”More than ready,” I reply, reach down to grip his shoulders, intending to pull him closer.
But he doesn’t.
He stays at the foot of the bed, stays on his knees, looking like he’s going to go down on me.
Is now a good time to tell him I’m already wet and not just from the shower?
Like—he can start fucking me, there’s no need for foreplay, I’ve been dreaming about having his big dick buried inside me since the second I saw him on that porch. He’s the one drawing this out….
”Good.” His perfect lips trail along my inner thigh, his breath hot against my skin.
I shiver, flesh covered with goosebumps, anticipation coursing through my veins.
I’m a sure thing.
We can cut to the chase.
I wish he would!
Brodie kisses his way up my body, mouth kissing my stomach. Sternum. Breasts.
He kisses one nipple, then the other.
I gasp as his lips find their way to my neck, his touch is electric, fingers tracing delicate patterns along my skin as he explores every inch of me as if he’s never seen my naked body before; like he’s never seen a body as beautiful as mine.
He’s in awe of me, I can see it in his eyes.
No guy has ever looked at me this way.
Never.
My body isn’t perfect and neither is his, and this is the first person I’ve never felt…like I’ve had to fold my arms across my boobs or hide my stomach or leave the lights off.
I want him to see me and he does.
He lavishes attention to my boobs before lowering himself again,
lips lighting a path of fire down my chest as he worships me. I arch my back, so needy, while my fingers tangle in his damp hair.
Brodie puts his mouth on my pussy, licking it clean.
Sucks a bit, spreading my thighs with his shoulders the same way he’s done a few times before and while it feels absolutely incredible, it has me pausing.
I look down, watching him.
God that feels good, do I actually want him to stop?
Yes—because he’s going to make you come and you’d rather come with his dick inside you…
I tap his shoulder. “Please,” I moan. “I want you inside me.”
His head gives a shake.
No.
Was that a no?
It can’t be.
“Please.” I wriggle my hips, wanting him so bad…burning with desire. The more he holds out, the more I want it and, “I can’t take it anymore. Please Brodie.”
I beg, saying his name out loud, hating this feeling just a little.
He looks up at me, his eyes dark with desire as his mouth kisses my pussy. “Lizzy we can’t.”
“Why? Don’t you have any condoms?” But I do because a lady is always prepared.
Never leave it up to a man when it comes to your sexual health,my mother always says.
“Right.” He clears his throat, clearly uncomfortable. “I don’t have condoms.”
“I do.” I watch him, propping myself up on my elbows.
His brows furrow in confusion, his lips parting in surprise. ”Just let me make you come, okay? I know you like it.”
My lips part. ”I want to make love to you.”
Now here’s the thing; I hate saying shit like that. We’re obviously not in love. But I can’t say the words ‘I want you to fuck me,’ that feels crass too in this moment—even though that’s exactly how I feel. And I can’t say ‘I need your dick inside me,’ cause I don’t want him to feel used.
So I go with ‘I want to make love to you,’ and hope like hell he doesn’t think it means I’m in love with him, although the feelings I have for him are real.
“Lizzy… I can’t.”
Can’t?
“Why do I feel like you’re rejecting me?” What could I have possibly done wrong?
“I’m not rejecting you.” He sucks in a breath. “It’s not you, it’s?—”
I hold up my hand to stop his next words. “Don’t you dare say it’s not you, it’s me or I will vomit all over your quilt.”
“But it’s true.” He leaves the space between my legs, coming up to join me on the bed. “It is me. This has nothing to do with you.”
“How can this have nothing to do with me? I’m the only other person in this room.” I pause, brain reeling.
He finds me attractive, I know this. That cannot be the case. He gets hard when I touch him, it’s not hard to make him hard.
He’s not in a seminary (we have one at this university) and he isn’t a monk and from what I can tell, there has been no vow of chastity.
“Are you waiting for marriage?”
“No!” He’s vehement. “I just…can’t have sex.”
“What do you mean you can’t have sex? That makes no sense.
You can get hard, I don’t understand what you mean by can’t.”
“I mean—I know my dick gets hard. I just…can’t have sex.”
I press my fingers to my temple and pray for patience. “Please start making sense, Brodie, before I lose it.”
He takes in a few deep breathes.
Let’s them out.
Says nothing.
I can see him struggle so I put a hand on his forearm. “You don’t have to make excuses. I get it and it’s fine.”
I move, wanting to be alone. Not wanting to be naked anymore, feeling vulnerable and confused and rejected. And wanting to go home to my own house and my own bedroom to sort out these feelings since he clearly isn’t in a state to explain himself.
Which is fine.
He should do it at his own pace; I won’t force him.
I grab my thong from the couch at the foot of his bed and step into it, ready to leave.
“Fuck, Lizzy—don’t go.”
I look over at him. “Right. But we can’t sit here staring at each other and you’re not telling me what’s on your mind so I think it’s best if I go. We can talk later.”
My pronouncement is followed by more silence.
Then, “Lizzy I can’t have sex with you because I’m a virgin!” He doesn’t shout it but it’s close; a desperate attempt to keep me here.
Instantly, I stop putting on my top.
Turn to face him, doing my best not to gape at him.
He’s a what now?
“Stop it, Brodie.” It’s not funny.
“I’m being serious.” He moves, sitting up and tightening the knot in the towel. “Why would I lie? I’m a virgin, Lizzy.”