Wren

“C-condom?” I stutter.

“There-” he points to the utility drawer. “Grab some.”

It takes everything not to topple over when I stand. Knees weak, I force myself to the drawer grabbing a handful of durex and throwing them to the floor beside him.

My mouth waters at the sight of his arousal. Long, thick and flushed, glistening with precum. His tattooed hand strokes slowly, eyes hooded, darkened.

I swing a shaky thigh over him. His jaw tightens, muscles strained, and eyes ...