"Are you hungry?" Jesse asked Allison, lightly rolling a nipple between his fingers.
They'd moved to his room a couple of hours ago and had alternated between lazily watching TV and playing with each other. Jesse's fascination with her breasts hadn't waned, and she was getting used to the near constant presence of his warm breath on her tits. Even while he'd napped earlier, he'd held her close, one hand cupped possessively around her left breast.
He suckled her now, his mouth drawing lightly on her erect nipple. She ran her fingers through his hair and cradled his head in her hands, letting the hot sucking sensation send coiling heat from her breasts through her abdomen to her pelvis.
"I could eat anytime," she whispered. "Are you?"
He lifted his head. "Yeah." He lightly nipped at the sensitive skin on the side of her breast, near her armpit.
"I'm confused. Are we talking about dinner or sex?"
"Both," he muttered. "I'm always hungry for sex. You will be too, after this weekend. But I also want pizza."
He propped himself up on an elbow and peered down at her. "How naughty are you willing to be?"
She swallowed and eyed him suspiciously. "What do you mean?"
They'd already been pretty naughty. Sex outside by the pool. Sex on the kitchen floor. Sex in his sister's—her best friend's—bedroom, sex with Carrie's dildo... Really, what else could he have in mind?
"If I have a pizza delivered, will you get it at the door?"
"Sure."
"In Carrie's robe?"
She hesitated. Her friend's robe—the robe she'd worn into the kitchen earlier was very short and practically transparent. It clung to her breasts and left nothing to the imagination. Letting Jesse see her in it was one thing. Opening the front door for the world—or the pizza guy—to see her in it was another.
"With nothing on underneath?" she asked, already knowing the answer.
"You know how I feel about covering these up," he said, grazing his palm over the tips of her breasts so they peaked again.
"And it would turn you on if I did it?"
He kissed her lightly on the lips. "It'll turn you on. I promise."
He called in the order, tugged on a pair of baggy athletic shorts, and led her downstairs. The robe was still on the kitchen floor where he'd tossed it earlier. He picked it up and handed it to her. "Leave it open until the doorbell rings," he said.
The slippery satin was cool against her skin, but she knew it would quickly warm to her body temperature, which was rising as her anticipation about what Jesse had in mind grew. From her place near the front door, she watched him set out paper plates, napkins, and beers on the living room coffee table. Then he came into the foyer with a plastic cup of ice.
"What's that for?" she asked.
"You'll see." He set the cup on the entryway table and pressed some money into her hand. "Here, hang on to that." He backed her against the wall beside the door and kissed her. Slow. Wet. Sensual. He alternated between dipping his tongue into her mouth to rub against hers and sipping at her lips.
He could get her so hot so fast. She restlessly moved against him, bumping her hip against his semi-erection and sliding the hand that didn't hold the money into the waistband of his shorts. He laughed softly and caught both her wrists, pulling her arms up over her head.
She let him. He wasn't forceful. If she wanted free, she knew he'd release her, but she didn't want free. She wanted to see what he'd do next. With her arms raised, her big breasts jutted forward even more proudly than usual and his eyes narrowed as he looked his fill.
He held her wrists with one hand. With the other, he took a piece of ice from the cup and popped it in his mouth, swirling it around with his tongue before parting his lips and clamping the ice between his front teeth. He bent his head and touched the melting cube to one of her straining nipples.
She let out a squeal and bucked against the wall. The shock of the ice was spine twisting, and it was so cold it almost hurt.
He still held her arms above her with one hand. With the other, he pushed on her belly, keeping her in place on the wall, and after the initial surprise wore off, she calmed down.
Tucking her chin, she watched him—or rather, she watched the ice. Her nipple was numb now, puckered and hard and erect. He rubbed the melting cube over it again and again. Rivulets of cold water trailed down her stomach and side, making her shiver. Gooseflesh rose all over her body.
"Ohhhh!" she gasped when he switched to the other nipple and the needle pricks of cold stabbed her, but like before, the sensitive nub numbed quickly. When the ice cube melted away, his cold mouth met hers and the hand on her belly slid lower, over her mound, between her legs.
"Keep your hands up," he murmured against her lips. He released her wrists as the fingers playing over her pussy delved deeper to run along her slit. "Allison," he breathed. "You are so fucking wet." He fished another piece of ice out of the cup with his free hand and closed his fist around it. Almost immediately, cold water began to dribble through his fingers. He let it splash down onto her chest and breasts while thrusting a finger inside her.
Her eyelids drooped and she panted softly as the sensations from the steamy heat between her legs and the jolting cold on her breasts warred within her. His words made her hotter even as the cold water trickling down her body made her shake. As much as she loved his finger inside her and the creative eroticism of the ice, the dirty talk kicked her libido up to a whole new level.
He dropped the sliver of remaining ice onto the tile floor and shook his red, icy hand. "This turns you on," he said, shifting his finger inside her, probing deeper. "I think you like things a little kinky. I'll bet you've got all kinds of kinks. Things you don't even know turn you on yet." He crooked his finger and pushed on that sweet, knee-buckling spot "I want to know what they all are."
She whimpered and bucked her hips against his hand.
"I'm right, aren't I?" he asked.
He was, but she didn't answer right away.
"Answer me." He demanded and grazed her clit with his thumb.
"Yes," she panted.
"Yes what?"
"Yes, this turns me on. You turn me on." Her voice nearly cracked. His thumb was elusive—refusing to establish a rhythm or firm touch.
"Tell me what you want." The finger inside her tapped her g-spot.
"I..." She shook her head. She loved hearing him talk dirty to her, but talking dirty back was different.
He grasped her jaw with his cold fingers, sending more frigid jolts through her. He tilted her head, making her look at him. "Say it. Tell me what you want." For just a second, he gave her clit the contact it wanted—a firm, circular rub.
She let out a deep, guttural moan, but his thumb flitted away again. She blinked at him, then finally said, "I want to come. I want you to make me come."
The doorbell rang.
