🚨 This is the second one! 🚨It's way more detailed and explicit than the first one—like, seriously.I bet you guys don't even want to see the third one... ðŸ˜ðŸ˜ I felt so dirty writing that one omg 😩😩But anyway—enjoy this one if you're into the steamier side of things 🔥👀(And please don't judge me too hard lmao 😅)
Their lips hovered a breath apart, Sydney's exhale warm and sweet against Ethan's mouth, a tease that made his pulse roar. His phone clattered to the floor, ignored, as every thought—the bet, the money, the dizzying high of winning—evaporated. There was only her. The way her tongue flicked lightly over his bottom lip, the scent of her skin like vanilla and salt, the heat of her thighs pressing into his.
She smiled—slow, deliberate—her teeth grazing his lip. "You dropped your phone," she murmured, voice smoky.
"Worth it," he growled, hands sliding up her back, fingers tangling in her hair.
Her laugh was a throaty hum as she closed the distance, kissing him hungrily this time. No hesitation. Her tongue slid against his, hot and demanding, and Ethan groaned, his grip tightening. Her fingers slipped under his hoodie, nails scraping the ridges of his abdomen. He hissed as her cool touch traced lower, skimming the waistband of his sweatpants, and when her palm pressed flat against the hard line of his arousal, his hips jerked reflexively.
"Sydney," he choked out, but she was already climbing into his lap, knees straddling his hips, her weight grinding down in a way that made his vision blur. He yanked her closer, one hand fisting in her shirt, the other cupping the curve of her ass.
She tore off his hoodie, tossing it blindly. It hit a guitar with a discordant twang. They froze, eyes locking—and burst into breathless laughter. But the sound dissolved into another kiss, deeper, messier. Her hands raked through his hair, tugging just enough to sting, and he retaliated by nipping her lower lip. Her gasp was a drug.
Clothes vanished in a feverish tangle. Her shirt landed near the fridge, her bra—lace, black, fuck—draped over a pillow. Ethan's breath hitched as she hovered above him, all soft curves and bare skin, her breasts full and lush, nipples pebbled and begging for his mouth. He didn't hesitate. He palmed one, thumb circling the taut peak, and when she arched into his touch, he leaned forward and sucked hard.
"Ethan—" Her moan was ragged, her nails digging into his shoulders.
He switched to her other breast, tongue swirling, teeth grazing, until she was trembling. "God, you're perfect," he muttered against her skin, hands roaming lower, slipping beneath the waistband of her jeans. She gasped as he found her, already slick, already desperate.
"Off," she demanded, clawing at his sweatpants. "Now."
He kicked them free, and she rocked against him, bare skin to bare skin, her wetness smearing his thighs. The friction drew a ragged groan from both of them. Her mouth crashed onto his, all teeth and tongue, her hips rolling in a rhythm that left him dizzy.
"Wait—condom," he panted, tearing his lips from hers.
She gripped his face, her gaze molten. "I'm safe. We're safe." Her voice dropped, raw with need. "Please."
The plea undid him. He flipped her onto her back, pinning her wrists above her head, and she whimpered—a sound that shot straight to his cock. He kissed her throat, her collarbone, the valley between her breasts, worshiping every inch as she squirmed beneath him. When he finally slid into her, slick and tight, they both froze, breathless.
"Fuck," he gritted out, forehead pressed to hers. "You feel…"
"More," she begged, hips bucking.
He obeyed, thrusting deep, each stroke a slow, torturous drag. Her legs locked around his waist, heels digging into his back as she met him thrust for thrust. The air thickened with the slap of skin, her choked cries, his guttural curses. Her nails scored his back, marking him, and he reveled in the burn.
"Look at me," he demanded, and when her eyes—dark, glazed, his—met his, he drove harder, deeper. Her moans climbed higher, fractured, until she shattered, her body clamping around him like a vise. He followed, spilling into her with a groan, her name a prayer on his lips.
They collapsed in a sweaty tangle, lungs heaving. Sydney traced idle patterns on his chest, her laugh shaky. "Still… worth the phone?"
He rolled her beneath him, already hardening again. "Fuck the phone."