Conjugal Visits

her in the belly.
“I’m not going to break,” she whispered.
Then she took my hand and placed it against her breast, her hand curving around mine to help mold it to the soft swell.
I’d always thought that they’d be a handful, and now I knew.
“No,” I agreed. “But I very well might.”
She flashed me a smile, then pushed past me and walked to the blanket.
That’s where she had everything set up, as if she’d known my answer before she’d even asked her question.
“I feel like I fell into your trap,” I mused as I followed behind her.
She looked at me with sparkling eyes over her shoulder, then knelt down onto the blanket she had spread out.
She bent forward and reached for something that was on the edge of the blanket, and it was right then that I realized that she owned me. Mind, body, and soul.
Hell, she didn’t have to even do anything overtly sexy for me to find her drop dead gorgeous.
All she had to do was look at me, or hell, bend over a goddamn quilt, for me to realize that she owned me.
“I hope that bag has those condoms,” I found myself growling.
She came up with an entire box.
“I, uh, had to guess on your size.” She eyed my cock with a worried frown on her face. “I don’t… now I’m worried that I didn’t get the correct ones.”
I looked down at my dick and couldn’t help the grin that spread across my face.
Every fuckin’ guy wanted to know that a girl thought his cock was big.
“I hate to break it to you,” I said, “but my dick is probably just average.”
I didn’t play the locker room games that some guys played.
Hell, I really didn’t know if I was considered ‘average’ or not.
But I imagined that I was.
I mean, it wasn’t like the girl I’d been with had been overly expressive about how big it was, so how would I know?
I guess I could actually measure it, but I’d never been the type of person to really care about what other people thought about me.
“Well.” She eyed it hesitantly still. “I guess we’re going to find out. I got larges. I just… I guessed based on how you, uh, felt.”
How I felt.
We’d done a lot of touching, but none of the touching was her feeling me up or anything.
She’d felt it against her backside, or her belly, a time or two.
But when I knew she felt it, I backed off, making sure to put distance between us so she wouldn’t think that I only ever thought of one thing.
Which, around her, seemed like the majority of the time that I did.
But I was a healthy eighteen-year-old. It wasn’t like I could totally control my reactions, especially when Beckham was such a beautiful girl.
“Come down here,” she ordered, patting the comforter between us.
I made sure that her eyes were on mine, and then I shucked my boxers off.
Her eyes went from my face to my dick and widened.
I would’ve laughed had I not been so insanely horny.
I dropped down onto the comforter beside her, then reached for the box of condoms.
“There’s no way we’re going to go through a value size pack tonight,” I said, eyeing the box of twenty condoms.
“Then we’ll save them for next time,” she suggested.
I liked the idea of that, actually.
“I don’t know when that’ll be,” I admitted.
Hell, bootcamp took who knew how long. Then there was…
“What are you doing?” I rasped.
She tore the condom the rest of the way open and then gestured to my cock.
“I’m going to put this on your penis so you can stick it inside of me,” she teased.
“There’s more to it than just that,” I said.
Her brows went up. “Yeah? How? Because I’m fairly sure that I’ve watched enough porn to know how it works.”
My lips twitched at her crude words.
“You have to be wet for me,” I said. “If you’re not wet, it’s not nearly as comfortable.”
Her brows lowered. “But I am wet.”
I grabbed her by the ankle and pulled her toward me, causing her to squeak in surprise.
“What are you doing?” she whispered sharply.
Just the feeling of my bare hand on the bare skin of her ankle was enough to have me groaning in anticipation.
I grinned. “I’m showing you how much wetter you can be.”
Then she squealed when I started to head south.
“What are you doing?” she gasped, her hands going to my hair as she tried to keep me up where she wanted me.
“I’m going to taste you. Like I’ve been dying to do,” I admitted.
Dying. Literally, all I could think about was tasting her.
Devouring her.
Making her mine. Something that she would remember even when I was no longer around.
“But Troup,” she whispered. “We shouldn’t…”
I went downward, dragging my lips along her soft belly as I went, showing her that I was going whether she pulled my hair out or not. She either was going to hold on and make it hurt, or she was going to let go and allow me to have my way.
She loosened her hold on my hair, and I felt the goose bumps under my lips as I went farther and farther and farther until I was lying down on the ground between her splayed thighs.
“Troup,” she whispered, sounding embarrassed. “This isn’t…”
“This is exactly the thing that I’ve wanted to do since I met you,” I told her honestly. “You would sit in front of me at your desk, and when you’d lean forward to get the stack of papers from the person in front of you, I’d see this creamy skin above your low-riding pants and I’d get this hard-on right there in the middle of class.”
She shivered as I finally made it to where I wanted to be.
Looping my arms around her upper thighs, I spread her open using my fingers and nearly groaned.
She was right. She was wet.
But she could be wetter.
Which I was going to show her.
Bending, I leaned forward and swiped my tongue along her slit,