IVE GOT LITERALLY NO EXCUSE FOR THIS
*ââ·Ryland Grace has you on the counter in the kitchen, the cool marble doing nothing to help the heat radiating from your body, and the absolute onslaught you were getting from your boyfriend. As spontaneous as it seems, itâs still a calculated move, a strategic choice of terror as his large hands are firm on your thighs, eager to get them open. And within moments, heâs settling between them, his the flat of his tongue against you, slow and methodical, a baseline test. Your reaction is instant. A sharp gasp, your back arching and your fingers tangling in the short, soft strands of his blond hair as a louder moan tears into the air as Ryland drags his tongue along you, letting it draw a playful circle around your entrance before gliding back up.
Carefully, Ryland runs his hands up the back of your legs, from the curve of your knees to the softer skin of your ass, lifting you with strength you always forget he possesses, leaving you breathless. He helps you prop them to drape over his shoulders, the position both dominant and tender, giving you an anchor point as he begins eating you out with more fever, his entire face buried into you.
*ââ·Holland March is shoving you against the wall, his hard body pressing into yours with a desperate and incredibly needy force. One hand is fumbling itself against the zipper of your pants, the other groping at your side as his heated lips are tangled with yours. Breathlessly, and leaving you with one more fleeting kiss, heâs tugging your pants down, falling to his knees in front of you. Heat is running down your entire body as Holland shifts forward, your back slamming a bit against the wall for some leverage as your leg is hooked and hoisted over his shoulder with a muttered âfuckâ.
Heâs hungry and a second later, his face is buried against you, his nose prodding your heated core as his tongue dives in first, moaning as your taste explodes against his taste buds. Your fingers are tangling into his hair as he drifts a hand up, grasping at your hipbone with enough force to leave bruises as he brings one of his long fingers into the mix, sliding it in and taking more of your weight than before due to the sensation of pleasure taking away any of your willpower to stand on your own.Â
*ââ·Lars Lindstrom is hesitant. But, more in that sort of reverent way as he settles you onto your back slowly, right in the center of his small bed, the space feeling impossibly intimate but almost remarkably stuffy in a way that makes his head spin and heat to rise in your chest. Gently, with his shaky limbs, heâs looping his arms through the crooks of your knees, touch unsure and careful. The blonde dips his head in as you urged him with a small nod, breathless as his face disappeared between your legs. The tickle of his moustache hits you first, the sensation causing a racket of tickly pleasure to drift down your spine.
âJust like that, LarsâŠâ You whispered breathlessly as his lips fluttered over you, a tentative question. He canât bring himself to open your legs, or to keep them open as they fall shut around his head as he begins eating you out, still unsure, but that was part of the thrill as you were guiding him with your sounds. Instead, Lars lets you keep your legs clamped around his head, creating a small, safe world for him to explore, his own little sounds hitting the air as he gets a better taste of what you had to offer.
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