LANCE
Zander makes a sound when our tongues touch and all I can think about is what I can do, where I can put my hands and my mouth so that I hear that sound again.
My hands find their way under his shirt, fingers sliding on the expanse of warm, buttery skin. I feel his hands all over me. Our tongues snake around each other, and it’s too much; Zander groaning - making that sound - over and over again and my body is on fire because I am the one doing that to him. And f**k, I’ve imagined this with him countless times before, but actually doing it doesn’t come close.
Our mouths part so we can catch our breath. Zander is panting, his hips jutting out. I grind into him, pushing my hardness against his.
“Please,” Zander grits out, and I don’t know what he’s asking for but I take off my cloth
