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doormatty3 · 9 months

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Pushing Further (Josh Lambert x Reader)

Masterlist Ao3

Summary:

[Josh Lambert x Female Reader] [Josh Lambert x You] There is nothing more stressful than moving day - the campus is packed with freshmen and their parents. And you just want some peace and quiet. However, amidst the tumult, a tall, broad, and handsome man grabs your attention that is until he sends you sprawling to the floor. Annoyed you go on with your life and meet Dalton who you soon befriend. When you find out that the stranger is his father - you're doomed. Josh Lambert is everything you want in a man but there are reasons why you should not give in: He's almost two decades your senior, divorced and most importantly your friend's dad So you go out of your way to avoid him and walk the tightrope between attraction and avoidance. That doesn't make him any less hot though - even more when you discover that the attraction is mutual. OR: And they were friends - except you fucked his dad.

Wordcount: 7,134

Warnings: 18+, fingering, unprotected sex, creampie, breeding, semi-public sex, vaginal sex, smut, dirty talk, older man/ younger woman, daddy issues

A/N: There is a criminally small amount of Josh Lambert ffs, so I decided to change that

ALSO: Insidious 5 plot (Josh Lambert) >>>>

You hate move-in day.

The college campus swirls with a kaleidoscope of emotions. Freshmen, wide-eyed and eager, navigate through the labyrinth of unfamiliar buildings, their parents hovering nearby, taking in the scenery, a mix of pride and reluctance in their gaze as they prepare to part with their newly-minted scholars.

The sun bathes the bustling scene in its warm rays, transforming the campus into a vibrant panorama. The old grey stone building looms tall and resolute against the canvas of the sky. It wears the patina of years with a dignified charm, its weathered facade a testament to the countless stories etched into its walls.

As you observe this annual rite of passage, a sense of nostalgia mingles with a tinge of wistfulness. Your own move-in day, with its mix of excitement and trepidation, feels like a distant reverie. Now a senior, the campus teeming with eager newcomers stirs conflicting emotions. The excitement and youthful energy are heartening, yet the multitude of people and the bustling activity feel almost too much, too overwhelming.

You sit at a secluded spot beneath the sprawling canopy of one of the many trees that grace the campus. From this vantage point, you observe the ebb and flow of people, hesitant to venture into the dorms that will surely be crowded.

The leaves above gently rustle in the breeze as you sit, absorbing the sights and sounds of the day.

Your attention is drawn to a cluster of fellow students distributing flyers, unmistakably advertising a fraternity event that you have never attended and will never attend - the frat boys just creep you out. Self-assured and arrogant has never been your type to hang out with.

However, amidst the lively scene, your gaze lingers on a lanky young man strolling by, seemingly impervious to the flyers being thrust into the hands of passersby.

Artist, you think. Everything about him just extrudes an artistic flair and you’re sure that your assumption would be right if you were to ask him.

You watch him stride away from the frat boys and you can’t help but think that he made a good choice by not interacting with them.

Your attention shifts from the bustling crowd to the presence of a man making his way down the path. Intrigued, you furrow your brow, momentarily curious about whose father he is. Your eyes linger on him, drawn by a magnetic quality.

As he walks, you find it hard not to notice his striking appearance. Despite the rough edges, there’s a rugged handsomeness about him. He is tall, with broad shoulders and his short, wispy light brown hair catches the sunlight, adding a subtle sparkle to his presence. A scruffy stubble grazes his face, enhancing that rugged charm.

Your gaze can’t help but follow the flex of his muscles as he carries a considerable amount of stuff for his child. The hot summer day is a blessing, you think, since it prompted him to don a tight polo shirt and shorts. You silently appreciate the view - the way his biceps and triceps tense with each step, and the way the shirt accentuates the breadth of his shoulders and chest.

Silently observing, you witness him engaging in conversation with the fraternity members, taking one of their flyers, presumably for his child. You can see him being a frat boy in his younger years - he certainly has the looks.

As he walks away, the flyer securely in his grasp, your eyes remain fixed on him. The contrast between his mature, composed stature and the frat boys is striking. His steps are deliberate, and everything about his presence seems secure and strong.

Your tongue darts out to wet your lips as you watch him and you’re somewhat surprised - even if also glad - that he doesn’t acknowledge your burning gaze since you’re practically undressing him.

Part of you hopes that you’ll see him more often on the campus and that that won’t be the last time your paths cross - maybe you’ll be able to strike up a conversation with him.

Your gaze lingers in the direction where the broad man disappeared and you find yourself momentarily lost. The vibrant energy of those who come after him seems to pale in comparison, they fail to capture your interest and it begins to feel boring.

With a sigh, you stretch your limbs, the pull of your muscles urging you to stand up. The prospect of a quieter atmosphere within the dorms becomes increasingly tempting, and hope that the flow of people there will have dulled.

_____

Rounding the corner and approaching your dorm, you eagerly open the door, hoping for a reprieve from the bustling crowds. However, your optimism is quickly diminished as you find the space still densely packed with a mix of eager freshmen, parents, and the occasional irritated senior, annoyed at the number of people - a hive of activity and a melting pot of an array of voices.

Undeterred, you press forward, determined to make your way to your room despite the persistent throng.

Navigating through the diverse sea of faces you make your way down the corridor. The air is charged with a blend of anticipation, familial warmth, and a touch of exasperation from those who had hoped for a quieter return to their familiar living spaces.

The sounds of conversations, laughter, and occasional sighs create a lively symphony that fills the air, providing a vivid backdrop to the varied emotions playing out in the cramped dormitory corridor.

Turning another corner, your curiosity is piqued, and you slow your pace to observe the activity around you. As you walk past a series of doors, your attention is drawn to the scenes unfolding in each room - freshmen unpacking with enthusiasm and parents offering last-minute advice.

Lost in this observational moment, you’re caught off guard as someone collides with you, sending you sprawling to the floor suddenly. A breath escapes you and you blink disoriented.

In the abrupt stillness that follows, you glance up to see the source of the collision, and to your surprise, it’s the handsome man from earlier. In the fleeting seconds your eyes lock, and you notice the striking shade of blue in his gaze and the sadness that seems to emanate from him.

Rather than offering a hand to help you up, he mumbles a quick apology and resumes his stride without missing a beat. A sense of frustration flares within you - as handsome as he is, his manners are clearly lacking.

Arsehole, you think as. you gather yourself from the floor with a shake of your head.

The brief encounter leaves you with a mix of bewilderment and a lingering sense of irritation as you make your way to your room.

______

Professor Armagan’s voice reverberates through the expansive art studio, commanding the attention of her assembled freshman class as she introduces you.

“Today, I want you to meet one of our seniors—she’s really gifted, and it’s important to me that you get to know more students of mine,“ she declares, her enthusiasm evident in the cadence of her words.

You raise your hand in acknowledgement, a subtle greeting to the newcomers, and take a moment to let your eyes wander across the room. The art studio, a sanctuary of creativity, is filled with eager faces, each potentially harbouring a unique artistic voice.

As your gaze travels through the room, you spot the lanky boy from the first day.

Ha, I knew it, a quiet sense of validation washes over you - your intuition about him being an artist appears spot-on and judging by the strokes on his canvas, a talented one at that.

The lesson unfolds with a straightforward tempo, and your role is mainly confined to sharing insights about the college and providing a glimpse into how art functions in Professor Armagan’s class. The information is delivered efficiently, and you find yourself relieved as the session concludes.

“Hi, I’m Dalton,“ the lanky boy strides up to you, extending a hand in greeting.

You reciprocate with a friendly smile, taking his hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Dalton,“

As your eyes fall upon Dalton’s pencil drawing, you can’t help but offer a genuine compliment. “Wow, this is really good. You’ve got some serious talent,“ you remark, appreciating the skill evident in his work.

Dalton’s face lights up with a grateful smile. “Thanks, I appreciate that,“ he replies, the sincerity in his tone confirming your initial impression of him as a genuinely nice individual, and you find yourself thinking that Dalton is the kind of person you could see yourself being friends with.

“You have to work on your disguise though - I could tell from a mile away that you chose the art program and was just wondering whether you made it to her class,“ with a playful grin, you jest to Dalton.

Dalton chuckles at your remark, and there’s a warmth in his response, “Yeah, I guess it’s pretty obvious, huh? Can’t hide the artist in me, I suppose.“

As you both exit the art studio together, the door softly closes behind you, the ambient sounds of the campus filling the air. The sunlight casts a warm glow over the pathway as you begin to make your way through the bustling campus, the occasional laughter and conversations of students blending into the lively background.

Turning to Dalton, you initiate a conversation about his college experience so far.

“So, how are you finding college so far? How’s it treating you?“ you inquire, a casual smile accompanying your words.

Dalton reflects, “It’s been an interesting ride. Meeting new people, navigating through classes, and, of course, diving into the art program. It’s everything I hoped for, honestly.“

The two of you continue to stroll, the campus unfolds around you.

Dalton shares more about his classes and the artistic projects he’s eager to explore, and you reciprocate with your own anecdotes.

Continuing your conversation, you find a natural segue to inquire about Dalton’s residence on campus. “By the way, which dorm are you in?“ you ask curiously with a casual tone.

Dalton smiles, “Oh, I’m in the last one down the path. How about you?“

As he reveals his dormitory, you can’t help but feel a spark of excitement. “No way! Me too,“ you respond, a genuine grin spreading across your face.

Dalton’s eyes light up with joy, and you pick up on the enthusiasm that suggests he might not have a large circle of friends.

He suggests, “We should totally hang out sometime. And you’ve got to meet my roommate, Chris – she’s really cool.“

You quirk an eyebrow and playfully tease Dalton, “Rooming with a girl, huh? The administration must have a wild sense of humour.“

Dalton chuckles, “Yeah, it was a bit of a surprise for both of us. Chris is fine, though. We make it work.“

You share a laugh, the notion of unexpected room assignments becoming a shared source of amusement. “Well, I’m definitely looking forward to meeting this mysterious Chris. Maybe the three of us could grab a coffee or something,“ you suggest, already envisioning potential hangout sessions.

Dalton’s eyes light up with genuine enthusiasm. “That sounds awesome! Chris will love it. She’s been itching to make some new friends around here.“

“How about this? There’s this amazing little coffee shop I’ve been a regular at since my first year here. It’s got this cosy vibe, and I think you and Chris would really enjoy it,“ you suggest, your enthusiasm echoing through your words.

Dalton’s eyes light up even more, his excitement matching yours. “That sounds awesome! I’m in, and I’m sure Chris will love it too.“

As you and Dalton walk through the dormitory halls, he suddenly comes to a stop and points to a door. “This is my room,“ he says with an appreciative smile, gratitude evident in his eyes.

You return the smile and quip, “Well, look at that! I guess I’ve been on the unofficial welcome committee. My room’s just further down the hall.“

Dalton laughs, appreciating the light-hearted exchange. “Thanks for walking with me. Do you wanna stop by tomorrow? I’d introduce you to Chris and we can get that coffee?“

“Absolutely, sounds like a plan,“ you respond. “See you tomorrow, dude,“ you add with a nod and a parting wave, continuing down the hall to your own room.

_____

The next day, you make your way to Dalton and Chris’s room, thankful to do something today. The familiar dormitory halls lead you to their door, and you give a light knock before it swings open.

Dalton greets you with a welcoming smile. “Hey! Glad you could make it. This is Chris,“ he introduces, gesturing towards a short, black girl with braided hair, vibrant clothes, and a warm smile.

“Nice to meet you! Dalton’s mentioned you,“ Chris says and extends her hand, you grab it and shake it.

Upon entering the room, your eyes are immediately drawn to Dalton’s paintings adorning the walls. “These are really nice,“ you remark, genuinely appreciating the artistic talent displayed.

Dalton beams with gratitude. “Thanks,“ he responds, a hint of pride in his voice.

As the three of you settle into conversation, you decide to delve into a bit of small talk. “So, Chris, do you also major in art?“ you inquire, curious about her academic pursuits.

Chris chuckles, her demeanour warm and friendly. “Nope, not at all. I’m actually a math major. Total left brain-right brain dynamic we’ve got going on here,“ she says with a playful twinkle in her eye.

As the conversation flows, a sudden knock interrupts the camaraderie. Chris and Dalton exchange confused glances, both wearing expressions of mild bewilderment. “Were you expecting someone?“ Chris asks, looking at Dalton.

Dalton shakes his head, equally puzzled. “No, I have no idea. Were you?“

“Nah,“ Chris mirrors the headshake.

The room falls into a brief silence as Dalton opens the door, revealing a man standing on the threshold. Dalton’s confusion is palpable as he utters, “Dad?“

A breath hitches in your throat as recognition sets in. It’s him - the handsome man from your first day, the same person who unintentionally sent you sprawling to the floor and didn’t have the decency to help you up. The lingering ache in your hip serves as a constant reminder of that memorable encounter.

“Hey. Sorry for the surprise visit. I was in the area and thought I’d drop by and talk to Dalton,“ he says, his eyes widening a bit as they lock onto yours. Recognition flickers across his face. “I’m Josh, by the way.“

Holding his gaze, you find yourself momentarily captivated, drinking in the details like a starved soul. His blue eyes, once a passing detail, now reveal a depth that draws you in. The slight curl of his hair at the nape of his neck and around his ears adds a touch of casual charm, accentuated by the scruff of his beard that now appears more prominent. Your gaze appreciatively lingers on the nuances, savouring the details.

Your appreciative gaze shifts downward, taking in the way his dark blue, tight dress jacket with rolled-up sleeves complements the form-fitting light blue t-shirt beneath. The fabric spans deliciously over his broad shoulders, chest, and the little tummy he has, accentuating his physique effortlessly. It makes you want to be under him, your bodies pressed together while he thrusts inside you, holding you tightly with his strong body - you’re sure that he’s soft in just the right places while being muscular and powerful.

The spell of fascination is abruptly broken as Chris, standing next to you, coughs purposefully to snap you out of your trance. The sudden interruption startles both you and Josh and you tear your eyes away from him.

You can’t shake the feeling that the attraction is not one-sided. Josh’s lingering gaze and the subtle shift in his expression suggest that he, too, was captivated.

The realization that the attraction might be mutual, even in this unexpected and somewhat inappropriate context, leaves a tinge of discomfort. Josh is not just a stranger; he’s Dalton’s dad, Dalton who is your friend. You silently hope that Dalton didn’t pick up on it.

Meeting Dalton’s gaze, you instantly sense that hope is futile - his raised eyebrow speaks volumes,

Josh clears his throat and his tongue darts out to wet his lips, your eyes involuntarily follow the movement, captivated by the subtle gestures.

For a brief moment, you indulge in the thought of his lips on yours, and his tongue on you. You wonder, if the stubble would scratch you, leaving marks on your skin so you could remember and feel him days later.

“Well, I should get going—I didn’t want to interrupt you,“ Josh says, directing his gaze at you again. “It was nice to meet you.“

As Josh offers a tight-lipped smile and exits the room. Once he’s gone, both Dalton and Chris turn their attention toward you.

“What was that?“ Chris’s inquiry comes with a hint of humour.

“Could you not undress him with your eyes next time - he’s my dad,“ Dalton says to you and you feel your cheeks heating up.

“I’m sorry, man,“ you mumble, a tinge of embarrassment colouring your words, “It isn’t my fault he’s hot.“

_____

The next time you encounter him, you’re on your way to your dorm as Josh is just leaving.

“Hey, Josh,“ you greet him with a bright smile.

He responds with a big, bright, and goofy grin etched on his handsome face. You can’t help but think that he looks good when he smiles.

“Hey, it’s nice to see you again,“ he greets you, his eyes sweeping over your form, lingering longer on the neckline of your tight shirt than is appropriate.

“I’m sorry for running you over when he first met,“ he starts, scratching over the hair on the back of his head, “ Or at least just walking away and not helping you up again.“

You reach out to place a reassuring hand on the skin of his arm. Intending for it to be a featherlight, brief touch, as soon as your fingertips trace over his arm, it feels like electricity is being passed through you.

Josh, in response to the touch, swallows heavily, his Adam’s apple bobbing in a visible display of tension. Instead of pulling away, he surprises both of you by taking your hand in his. Intertwining your fingers, he begins to rub soothing circles over the back of your hand with his thumb.

You notice the size of his hands—big and fitting for a man of his stature.

At that moment, it feels as though time stands still. Both of you just stand there, locked in a gaze, drinking in each other’s presence.

As he moves a bit closer, you become acutely aware of him, and his scent engulfs you like a private cocoon. It’s uniquely him - a blend of cologne and something inherently Josh. The cologne carries a woody fragrance, specifically dry wood, with nuanced undertones of sandalwood and amber.

The sun casts shadows on his face and accentuates the contours of his features. You observe that the short beard framing his face is threaded with salt-and-pepper hair. The interplay of light and shadows makes him more than just attractive—it renders him captivating.

His blue eyes, sparkling in the sunlight, reveal a depth that draws you in. They are akin to fire in water, reflecting a passionate intensity that burns within the warm sun-lit undercurrents of his gaze.

The healthy shine of his hair catches your attention, and you can’t help but notice the vibrancy it adds to his overall appearance. Your fingers itch to push the wayward locks behind his ear again, to feel if it is as soft as it looks.

The enchanting moment is abruptly shattered as someone carelessly bumps into you, jolting you out of the reverie. In the sudden disturbance, Josh releases your hand.

“I-,“ he clears his throat, the remnants of the charged moment still lingering, “should get going.“

There’s a palpable pause, a shared awareness of the disrupted connection. At that moment, you sense that he, too, is affected by the sudden intrusion into the private bubble you unintentionally created. The unspoken understanding between you deepens, and as he looks at you with an intensity that mirrors your own feelings, you find yourself nodding in agreement.

As Josh begins to move away, you’re left standing there, your gaze fixed on him. Your eyes trail along his departing figure, captivated by the sight of his muscular back.

_____

The inappropriate thoughts about Josh weigh heavily on your conscience, creating a turbulent storm of emotions within you that refuses to settle. Part of you acknowledges the relief of not having seen him in quite some time, while another part feels a twinge of sadness - There’s an undeniable sense of loss or longing; you want to see him again.

But you cherish your friendship with Dalton and don’t want to jeopardise it. It feels like you walk on a tightrope between desire and loyalty, especially because you’re fairly certain that this perpetual tension will snap at some point. So you find yourself consciously avoiding Dalton and Chris’s room. The fear of running into his handsome father fuels you, in particular, because he seems to make frequent visits - and the question lingers in the front of your mind: does he purposefully stop by so often, driven by a desire to see you?

Your gaze drifts around your dorm room, and you spot a sketchbook that isn’t yours. A moment of realization hits you like a sudden jolt—shit, that’s Dalton’s. He’s forgotten it again.

With the certainty that both Dalton and Chris are currently in class, you entertain the idea of stopping by to return the forgotten sketchbook. The timing seems opportune—no risk of encountering them, and by extension, no chance of a surprise visit from Josh, Dalton’s father.

The thought forms a plan in your mind, and you decide to seize the moment. The dormitory halls echo with quiet solitude as you make your way to Dalton and Chris’s room.

The door swings open, and to your surprise, the room isn’t as empty as you expected. There, standing in the middle of the room is Josh,

Time seems to slow as you lock eyes with him, and an involuntary thought escapes your mind— Jesus, your memories really didn’t do his handsomeness justice.

You find yourself taking in the details—the way the room frames him, the play of light accentuating the contours of his features, and the way his presence seems to fill the space.

All the subtle nuances of his appearance, from the slightly tousled hair to the hint of scruff on his jaw, draw your attention. His blue eyes, usually a captivating shade, seem to shine darker than normal, adding a layer of intensity to the moment.

“I didn’t expect you here,“ the words escape your mouth, almost breathlessly, and you curse the involuntary reaction you have to Josh.

Instead of responding immediately, he looks you over, his gaze lingering on your form. Then, he opens his mouth and says, “You’ve been avoiding me.“

It’s not a question; it’s a statement, and it holds a truth you can’t deny. You have been avoiding him, but it’s more about not trusting yourself in his presence than anything else.

As you remain silent, Josh takes a step closer, closing the distance between you. His hand lands on the wood of the door, near your head, applying gentle pressure. The muscles in his chest and arms tense as he leans against the door, closing it with a quiet click.

Instead of moving away, he keeps standing there, effectively boxing you in between the door and his body.

He maintains an unbroken gaze on you, his eyes locked onto yours. The close proximity allows you to observe the intricate details of his eyes. They are not uniformly blue; instead, there’s a fascinating interplay of shades. A ring of light blue delicately encircles the pupil, creating a mesmerizing gradient with the darker blue that surrounds it. The hues blend seamlessly, forming a captivating dance of colours within the confines of his gaze.

The fragile silence hangs in the air, and a subtle fear lingers—fear that any spoken word or sudden movement might shatter the enchanting spell woven between you and Josh. In the cocoon of quietude, you choose to remain still, each heartbeat echoing in the confined space, cautious not to disrupt the delicate equilibrium of the moment.

You can’t help but feel lazy arousal starting to pool through your veins, fueled by Josh.

“Tell me to stop,“ Josh speaks, his words almost a whisper, “tell me to walk away.“

The quiet plea hangs in the air, revealing the internal struggle he faces. He’s your friend’s dad, divorced, and almost two decades your senior—valid reasons to resist the magnetic pull drawing you both in. Yet, in this charged moment, those rational arguments seem to lose their significance in the haze of him that clouds your thoughts.

Your eyes flicker to his lips, and as quietly as he had spoken, you finally respond, “Kiss me.“

And so he does.

Josh’s lips descend to yours, capturing you in a kiss that feels both urgent and consuming. His warm hand gently cups your cheek, adding a tender touch to the intensity of the moment. It’s a kiss that feels like an act of hunger as if he’s been starved and you are the only remedy to satiate it.

Your hands find their way to his strong shoulders, instinctively pulling him closer as you reciprocate the kiss. The texture of his lips against yours becomes a tactile language, each brush and press conveying a depth of emotion words might fall short of capturing. You feel his stubble scrape over your skin. The taste of his kiss is a fusion of want and need, a shared desire that resonates between you, eclipsing any reservations that linger in the back of your mind.

Josh breaks the kiss, and both of you are left breathless. “Fuck, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,“ he confesses, his voice laden with a mixture of desire and relief.

He starts leaving open-mouthed kisses along your jawline, and you laugh quietly in response. “Well, I have an idea,“ you playfully remark and reminisce of when you first met him - you wanted to do that since then.

“Yeah, tell me,“ Josh smiles, his hand finding its way into your hair, tightening its grip. He is looking directly into your eyes smouldering blue burning into you as he leans down to bite into your bottom lip lightly.

“Josh,“ was all you managed to say in a breathy voice.

His lips move to your jaw, leaving soft kisses and sucking a mark into the soft skin of your neck, letting his teeth nip over the spot before moving on. You let out a moan and dig your fingers into his shoulders, before loosening your hold and roaming his whole back. You feel the strength of his muscles between your hands as well as the heat he emanates.

Not being able to contain yourself, you are desperate for some skin so you lift up the hem of his shirt and slip your hands under it, feeling his skin.

With a groan Josh presses his hips into yours, making you feel the hardness of the erection he is sporting. You grind against it as you feel your heart beating fast in your chest.

Josh pulls back, his eyes dark and glinting with arousal.

He slips his thick fingers under the thin straps of your dress and pulls them over your shoulders, leaving burning pathways in the wake of his touch. At that moment, you’re so glad you decided to wear a dress. And you second that again, when he tucks down the upper part of your dress, exposing your breasts to his nimble fingers and hungry eyes.

Almost instantly his hands find their way to your tits and you groan when he rubs the pad of his thumb over your nipple.

Josh takes his sweet time exploring you and finding out which sound he can wring from you by just his hands touching your chest. Deliberately, he flicks his forefinger against the hardened bud before capturing it between two fingers, rolling and tugging on it.

His lips skate over your collarbones, nibbling and sucking leaving more marks in his wake.

Something shortcircuits in your brain when you notice how his hands span over your ribs, making you feel fragile beneath him. And in that moment you want nothing more than for him to just lift you and impale you on him, manipulate you to his liking until the only thing you can remember is his name.

You hook your fingers in the belt loops of his jeans, pulling his hips against yours, wishing that he wasn’t wearing anything. You feel the hardness of his cock pressed against your belly as you grind down on him.

When his lips and fingers leave your skin you almost whine at the loss of contact but Josh wraps an arm around your back, pulling you flush against his thick frame before covering your mouth with his own again, possessing you.

He presses one of those strong thighs between your legs, pressing it against your clothed cunt, locking you against the wood of the door again. Without a coherent thought, you moan into his mouth as the rough fabric of his jeans rubs over your wet pussy.

Frantic your hands undo the belt and open his jeans, pushing it down, before tugging on his shirt, desperate for more skin. Josh takes pity on your frazzled attempts and takes off his shirt, pulling it over his head as well as letting his jeans fall to the floor with a quiet thud.

His skin is damp, a thin sheen of sweat giving it a dewy glow that catches the light of the room. Your eyes trace over him appreciatively, taking in the details that make him undeniably attractive as he just watches you with dark, hooded eyes.

The rise and fall of his chest, accompanied by a scattering of sparse chest hair, draws your eyes. Your gaze lingers on the muscles that play beneath the softness of his belly. In this moment, you find that he is a perfect harmonious mix between being ripped and soft.

Driven by a need to touch - to feel - him your fingers trace a delicate path across Josh’s chest, shoulders, and belly, exploring the terrain of his skin with a gentle curiosity.

As your fingertips navigate the expanse of his chest, you feel his breath and breathing heart, a subtle rhythm syncing with the beating of your own heart. The transition to his shoulders unveils the sinewy strength that lies beneath, a testament to the physicality that drew you in. Moving lower, your touch encounters the softness of his belly, tracing the trail of hair that leads into his briefs.

Without warning you cup his hard cock that’s straining against the fabric of his underwear, making him groan, a deep sound that reverberates through his chest.

Josh wraps his arms around you, lifting you up as he dips his head to kiss you. He bites your lip, the sharp nip of his teeth making you whimper into his mouth. His fingers dig into the soft flesh of your ass as he carries you, prompting you to wrap your legs around his thick middle.

With one fluid movement, he sets you down on the desk, dimly you register the books on the table being swept to the floor. He slots himself between your legs as he tangles his hand in your hair to tilt your head back to force you to meet his gaze.

“If you want to stop - at any point - you tell me,“ Josh’s voice is a quiet, husky murmur, the darkness in his eyes reflecting the pleasure shared between you. His lips, now deliciously pinked from your kisses, hover close.

Wordlessly, you nod. In this moment, he embodies everything you desire and more, a captivating presence that has ensnared your senses. If this is your only chance at tasting him, feeling him, having you - you’ll gladly take it. If not somewhat sad, because you’re sure you will not be able to forget him.

He captures your lips in another short kiss while hitching your dress up higher. Josh’s hand is between your legs now, rubbing one finger over your clothed cunt. You just know that the cotton has to be damp, that he now feels how much you want this - want him.

When he applies more pressure, scraping over your clit you arch your back into his touch. His eyes are on yours, drinking in your every reaction.

Josh repeats the act and you rake your fingers over his back so hard you’re certain to have marked him. It’s making him moan, low, deep and frantic as if he’s enjoying this as much as you. Your entire skin fizzles with electricity upon his reaction.

In one fluid motion, he seats himself beneath your things and yanks your ass off the edge of the desk. His fingers curl around the waistband of your panties and he pulls them down, off your legs.

Just the sight of Josh between your legs edges you closer to an orgasm. His big hands are wrapped around your thighs, keeping you open for him. If you had to describe the look in his eyes you don’t know if another word than feral was fitting.

He makes you want to paint him, to capture this moment for eternity, with his messy hair and dark eyes.

Your head falls back and every thought becomes impossible when he presses a featherlight kiss on your clit, the stubble prickling like electricity. You cry out when he draws a circle around it with his wet tongue.

“You need to be quiet, sweetheart,“ he says, voice low, rough and deep. “Wouldn’t want anyone to come in here, right?“

You can’t do much other than nod - you know that you can try but you also surely know that you will fail.

As soon as Josh presses his palm across your stomach to hold you down and tastes your cunt with a long lick you lose that train of thought again.

He builds you up with a slow and dexterous tongue, determined to make you cum beneath him. Your back arches off the desk, only held down by his strong arm as you whimper.

You feel your cunt clenching and you’re sure that you’re staining the desk with your wetness.

Arousal crashes through your vein and you feel yourself getting closer - and he apparently also does because he hooks his arms around you, to pull you closer to his mouth.

A curse rolls over your tongue when he sinks two of his thick fingers into your cunt, curling them inside your so you spasm around him.

While you know that your orgasm is drawing closer it still hits you like a freight train. The mixture of his fingers and his mouth on your clit brings you over the edge.

You cry out and your back arches off the desk, fire pulsing through you. Josh’s mouth is still on you, licking through your wet cunt, catching every drop. You feel like your muscles are locking up and the fire has extended to your lungs as he continues to work you through it. Only when you whimper against him, overstimulated he pulls back.

Josh’s neck and chin are coated in your wetness, glistening in the light of the room. A blinding smile is etched across his features, reaching his eyes. The pleasure radiating from him is palpable and genuine, he likes how you react to him.

Your fingers instinctively dig into the firm contours of Josh’s shoulders, a desperate longing urging him to rise and meet your lips. In response, his strong arms envelop you, pulling you irresistibly close as your mouths meld together in a fervent kiss. You taste the salty tang of yourself on his tongue.

His hard cock is pressed against your bare cunt and you grind down on him, making him groan into the kiss. Just from feeling him, you know that he’s big and you ache to get your hands on him.

You reach into his briefs, following the trail of hair. Josh’s cock is thick and twitching in your palm as you smear precum over him to jerk him off easier.

God, he’s going to split you in half, make you burn from the stretch as he forces you to accept every thick, hot inch of him.

Driven by need you push his underwear over his hips, mesmerizes as you finally see him naked. His dick stands proud and hard in neatly trimmed pubic hair. You wrap your hand around him again, tracing the pulsing vein on the underside of his cock. Josh jerks his hips into your hand and you wet your lips as you clench around nothing.

It’s almost surreal, the realization that this handsome and gorgeous man is as captivated by you as you are by him and you itch to return the favour and take him into your mouth to see what sounds you can elicit from him.

But when you show signs of slipping from the desk he stops you with a long-fingered hand on your thigh.

“You can return the favour next time, we have to be quick,“ Josh’s voice is husky and dark as his eyes are on you intently.

Next time? Fuck, yes, you really hope that there will be a next time because you don’t think you can get enough of him.

His arms wrap around you again to claim your mouth before lifting you up from the desk. The dig of his fingers into your skin lingers are you just hope that they will bruise. He walks both of you over to a bed in the room, laying you down on your back.

Josh is a solid form above you, chest heaving as he braces his weight on his elbows. He nuzzles his face in the crook of your neck, before licking a stripe along the length of your pulse.

The feeling of his weight pressing you into the bed with his bare chest on yours is indescribable. The soft swell of his stomach against yours is heavenly s you claw into his shoulders and back to pull him further on you,

“Fuck me, please,“ your voice wrecked and hoarse as you buck against him, feeling his hard dick press against you.

He pushes his cock against your cunt, nudging your clit with every stroke, just slicking himself with your wetness.

You whimper when you feel the tip of his broad dick slide into you, keeping it buried inside you, “Josh, please .“

Josh takes pity on you. He leans forwards and his eyes are on yours as he fills you with short and shallow thrusts, inching his cock further and further inside you. Your eyes fall closed at the overwhelming feeling of him in your cunt and he stops again.

Your eyes fly open when his hand finds its way around your throat, wordlessly telling you to keep your gaze locked on him. The slow drag of his dick elicits a high-pitched whine from you.

When his hips are flush against yours, he stills, giving you time to get used to him.

“Just like that…. You’re doing so well,“ his voice is low as he praises you.

The combination of the barely contained edge in his voice and the praise causes you to clench around him, making Josh groan. You’re drunk off him, off how you feel every ridge, every vein against the wall of your cunt.

When he pulls back and only leaves the tip inside you again, you whine. That is soon replaced by a loud moan as he slams his whole length into you.

He feels impossibly deep in your cunt, like he’s carving himself inside with every slap, stroke and thrust of his hips. There is nothing you can do but lay there and take it.

With every thrust, he almost growls into your ear as he possesses you. The slap of his balls against you and the wet squelch of your cunt is loud in the room as he continues to wreck you.

The head of his cock drags over that spot that makes you see stars and you twitch and jerk against him, completely overwhelmed by him.

You hiss when he reaches between you to press the pad of his thumb against your sensitive clit. He flicks it against it before starting to rub small circles that make you quiver under him and clench around him.

Josh’s face is the epitome of concentration as he drives his dick inside you again and again, his brow furrowed as he fucks the both of you towards your high.

You scream when you come. Blinding pleasure shoots through your veins, expanding from inside you and engulfing you. His lips come down to kiss you, capturing you in a feverish and feral kiss. Your teeth click together as he devours you and continues to slam into you.

With a load groan, he pushes into you as deep as possible, clutching you tightly as his hips jerk and he spills inside you.

He kisses you, hard and short while he keeps his hips flush with yours as he rocks them, milking himself dry.

It feels almost soft when he pushes your damp hair from your face and cups your cheek as you catch your breath. The kiss you share is lazy and soft, your hands comb through his hair lightly. You wrap your arms around him tightly, holding him close and savouring the feeling of his body on yours.

The post-orgasmic bliss disperses suddenly when you feel him soften inside you, his cum leaking onto the bed.

“Shit, Josh,“ panic is evident in your voice, “Get up.“

The realisation hits you, that Josh just ruined you in the room of his son - on his desk and bed. You know that you can’t pretend that this never happened, not when you know how perfect he feels inside you or how he looks when he comes.

His quiet laugh irritates you at first but your eyes flutter closed again when he presses his lips against yours.

“It will be fine,“ Josh’s blue eyes shine bright as he traces your lips with his thumb, “Let’s get cleaned up first. And then I’d like to take you out for some food.“

“Yeah… yeah,“ you start, a smile on your features, “I’d like that.“

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