Precious Things: Booty Call

Previously: Epilogue [X, XXX, NSFW]

Sometimes things won’t get out of my head. Like… Smut.

L is a goddess because she beta’d this for me on the spot, and did a fantastic job, and did it even though I teased her during. Also because she just IS a goddess. Payne, you have my permission to add her to the list. So long as you make it gooooood.

Disclaimer: South of Nowhere is Owned by The N and Tom Lynch.
Rating: NC17!! NSFW. Sex Smut Smut and Sex. Don’t read this if you’re underage.

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Booty Call

I can’t breathe.

I can never breathe when she’s this deep inside me. I end up taking in just enough oxygen to keep me going and nearly pass out when I come.

God almighty, if only she’d make me come.

She won’t. She’s refusing. She’s moving so fucking slowly and her thumb is just barely brushing over my clit.

“Ashhhh,” I moan. “Fuck, please.”

“Shhh…” She replies.

I’m kneeling over her, thrusting my hips into her hand, and have been for far too long. Sweat has beaded on my forehead and in the small of my back. Her hand, the one that isn’t fucking me so damn slowly with two fingers curling, is sitting on my hip; restricting my movements.

I want her to thrust into me. I want her to slam into me. It’s been so slow and for so long. I want her to make me come.

She won’t use her mouth. She knows that would make me come like lightening.

She just fucks me.

Slow and deep.

Her fingers curl, but not enough. She knows where my g-spot is. She knows how to press it and make me explode. She knows exactly how to get me off – which is why she knows exactly how to hold off.

I thrust my hips a little harder and for a few swings, she lets me.

Oh god.

A moan bubbles out of my mouth. I gasp for air and feel a drop of sweat roll down my white, white thigh.

I told her I thought I’d left my history notes in her room. She knew it was a lie. I knew it was a lie. They were in my history notes folder. I’m pretty anal about all that stuff so there was no way in hell they were in her room.

We both knew it.

She said to come on over and she’d find them.

The look in her eyes as soon as she opened the door: whoah.

She knew. I knew.

And the fact that my lips were sealed across hers seconds later, leading to a wolf-whistle from the still open door, was no surprise. Neither was the whistle. All the people on her floor know exactly what we’re like.

But now she won’t make me come.

“Don’t tease,” I whimper.

She chuckles, although I can feel the tension in her body too. “Taking my time is not teasing Spencer.”

“Make me come,” I beg. “Please.”

“Not yet.”

Her voice is so fucking calm. It drives me insane as I thrust against her achingly.

I give up a strangled gasp of frustration and fall down on my outstretched hands, moving my hips all that harder.

She gives in a little, just a little, and goes deeper. For long minutes I moan above her as the tension builds but doesn’t get there.

She’s going to kill me.

“P-please.”

Without any warning her hand on my hip tightens and she flips us without removing herself from deep inside me. I don’t know how she does it, but my girl is talented.

Leaning down, she sucks my tongue into her mouth and then tangles her own with it in a kiss that makes my eyes water with the intensity. Our thrusts slowly build until my hips are swinging against her and she’s almost, just almost, slamming into me. She watches me, loving to see my face contort as my orgasm hits me.

She loves making me come.

God, I love it when she makes me come.

Her fingers, they curl properly this time. They hit me right in the spot that makes me scream, at the same time her thumb does three swirls across my hardened nub of a clitoris.

Oh boy do I come.

Not only does everyone on her floor know it, but I also flood all over her.

That’s never happened before.

All over her. Wet, sticky, hot.

It does take me a minute to realise it though. Mostly because I’ve nearly fainted from the incredibly intense orgasm she just gave me.

Then I blush.

“Uh… god…. I’m so sorry,” I practically whimper. I’m so embarrassed. I know I didn’t pee. I know that because I actually feel like I have to. Plus, it’s kinda sticky, I can see that from here. That just makes me blush harder.

“No,” she whispers, staring at her hand. I pull her away, red as a beet. “That was fucking sexy as hell.”

“Oh.”

She leans over me and kisses me, softly. I kiss back, stretching a little. My body was so tense for so long I ache. Then again, she must be aching more.

I wrap my hand around her neck, feeling her delicate curls waft over my hands. Our kiss deepens and she moans in to the cavern of my mouth. The kisses get hotter and wetter, and despite the fact that if she touched me now, I’d jump because I’m worn out, she still makes me tremble.

I slide my hands down to her hips and position her over one of my thighs. She bucks into me, slicking across my skin.

We both moan.

As she rides me, my hand moves up across her bare skin to cup a breast. I love her rack. It’s… phenomenal. Flicking my finger across her nipple, feeling it harden more and watching her jerk in reaction is like heaven.

She’s panting now, occasional snippets of what sound like my name fall from her lips and it’s glorious.

Sliding my hand back down her increasingly slick body and find her clitoris, rubbing it with two fingers. She whimpers and swears. I love it when she swears while we have sex. It’s… hot.

I remove my fingers, making her groan and swear in the not quite good way.

Instead of responding, I grasp her hips and tug her forward. It takes her a few moments to understand, but when I shuffle down the bed a bit and tug again, she gets the idea.

It really doesn’t take long for her to be kneeling over me, gripping the headboard and trying desperately not to grind herself into my face.

My tongue snakes out.

She’s so fucking erect against me. Hell yeah.

It takes about three minutes of my tongue sliding across her clitoris, occasionally making forays down to her entrance. I fuck her with my appendage until she throws her head back. Sucking her clitoris into my mouth, I make two more sweeps with my tongue and she comes on my chin.

Mmm.

We collapse in a sweaty tangle of arms and legs, she doing her best not to collapse on my head.

After a few minutes of holding each other, she groans in a satisfied way and stretches.

“You can come over for a booty call any time.”

“It wasn’t a booty call!” I protest.

“Mmm…” she tickles my spine. “Your history notes are not here.”

“They might be…”

They’re so not.

I know it and she knows it.

She pulls me closer, “Spence, I really don’t mind if you come over for a booty call.”

“It wasn’t a -”

“In fact, I find it both hot and flattering.”

“Oh.”

Oh.

She kisses my forehead.

“I missed you,” I whisper. “I miss you all the time.”

“I miss you too,” she whispers back.

Stroking my fingers across her sternum, I cuddle her close.

“Stay?” She asks.

“Yeah,” I blush into her shoulder. Of course I’ll stay.

This year has worked out quite well. She’s gotten jealous, I’ve gotten jealous and the whole time we’ve been faithful. The only problem is that I’ve missed her horribly. The only reason I know she’s missed me too is that she keeps turning up at my dorm room looking positively mournful and telling me so.

We spend far too much time travelling across New York. It’s ok, we’ve only got two months to go until we head back home for the Summer. Then we move in together; no more of this ferreting to and fro.

I miss her.

She pulls me in close as my head lies on her shoulder and my hand trails down to her stomach. She has the most amazingly defined abs. I just love them. My fingers trace across them and she shuffles a little.

“That tickles.”

“Sorry,” I murmur.

My hand traces harder, and then lower, across the few neatened curls she has and further down.

She doesn’t stop me but she does raise an eyebrow.

“Again?”

“Maybe.” I smirk at her.

“Ooh, we could use the thing I bought… or not.”

She realises where her sentence is going. The problem is, the realisation comes too slow for her to stop and just fast enough for her to know she’s said it. I raise up on one elbow with my hand back on her abs.

“Bought what?”

“Nothing,” she squeaks.

“Tell me!” I flick her shoulder.

“Uh… something. You don’t need to… it’s ok.” She pales and bites her lip.

“Ashley Davies. Tell. Me. What. You. Bought.”

“It’s… just… something.”

“What kind of something?” I refuse to give in.

She mumbles a few words and I don’t get a single bit of it. I poke her until she repeats it.

“A strap on.”

“Oh.”

Oh.

“My.”

My.

“We don’t have to use it Spencer!” She buries her head in my side and I giggle, holding her.

“So, if you don’t want to use it, why did you buy it?”

“Um, I do want to use it. But we don’t have to.”

“So you want to use it, but not with me?” My voice goes up a slight amount.

Silence.

“So exactly who did you want to use it with?” I ask with some amusement. Only 0.1% of me is serious. I know she would never cheat. I’d kill her. Her stepmother would kill her. Her father would kill her. My grandfather would kill her. She’d be dead four times before she moved.

“You.”

Her voice is about seven octaves higher than normal. She’s squeaking. She’s using tones only dogs can hear.

I pull her head gently out and grip her by the chin.

“You know, you could just ask.” I’m teasing her now. She thinks I’m all innocent. I guess I kind of am. But after two years of fucking her I’m not completely untutored.

The thought of Ashley leaning over, kissing me, with her hands on my shoulders while fucking me so deep it almost hurts…

That won’t leave my head.

I lean down to her ear and whisper.

“I think I’ll probably say yes.”