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Chapter Ten
Gia’s mind spun and swam. Her heart raced and skipped. Her legs shook.
Zaxx knelt before her, his fingers digging into the meat of her ass, his face pressed between her thighs. He’d lunged at her, dropping to his knees, grabbing her, yet he was gentle, too. He gripped her hard enough that she might bruise, but his mouth and tongue didn’t devour her. He tasted her, explored her, found each and every most sensitive place. Long, meandering swipes of his tongue through her folds, tantalizing sucks of her clit, slow and deep. Every time he made her moan, he answered it with a hungry grunt that rolled through her core.
And his beard! Holy fuck, his beard. Its soft scrape against her tenderest flesh was a striking strip on a match.
She sensed a purposefulness in his manner—when she moaned, he stayed on the thing that had elicited her response, moving on only when she calmed. The man knew what he was doing. If not for his hands clamped over her hips, she doubted she could stay upright.
Men (and a woman once, after a particularly wild dorm party at Mizzou) had given her head before, of course, and she’d been able to come that way, but rarely without some backup from the home team, as it were. Most guys’ approach to this act was too scattered, like a puppy chasing a butterfly. They’d occasionally randomly hit on just the right spot, just the right intensity, but then they’d ignore her encouragements, her pleas, to stay right there, to focus. Instead they’d skitter off to suck or lick or nip elsewhere. It never failed to break her momentum, but not in the fun edging way. In the start-all-over-again way. It was fucking frustrating.
(Her recollection of that night in the dorm was fuzzy around the edges, but she did remember Jilly not having any focusing problems. Sadly, Gia had simply been curious and drunk enough to do some research, while Jilly was actually gay, and sincerely interested. It made for an awkward end of the semester, and then Jilly moved off their floor during the break. Gia still felt guilty when she thought about all that.)
Zaxx played her like a virtuoso on his favorite instrument. Gia sank her hands into his long hair and held on. Through the curtain of his hair, and the hazy lens of her lust-smeared vision, she saw an elaborate tattoo covering his back but couldn’t make sense of it. Was it DaVinci’s Vitruvian Man?
At that moment, he discovered the absolutely exact right place, and the orgasm that had been gathering like a storm on the horizon surged forward. Gia forgot tattoos existed.
“There!” she gasped, yanking on his hair like the strands were reins in her hands. “Oh fuck, don’t move. Right there, right there.”
His mouth full of her, Zaxx chuckled, and its waves rolled through her hips and up her spine. He heeded her desperate command and stayed put, doing exactly the thing she needed.
It was only a minute, maybe only seconds before spectacular, painful pleasure struck her, sending a shockwave that drew her every muscle into a clench. She cried out, unaware if she’d spoken a word or only made some kind of visceral, primeval noise, and her body collapsed in on itself. Not even his strong hands that had held her up through all of this could keep her up now. She dropped to the floor, her body tangled with his.
They lay on her new rug, a sweating, panting heap of flesh.
As Gia finally caught hold of the edge of reality, she glanced in the direction of the staircase and saw Cheese and Crackers, sitting side by side at the top of the stairs, their positions and expressions identical. A kitty chorus of What the fuck are you weirdos doing?
It made her laugh. Zaxx lifted his head from her belly and met her eyes. “You good?”
She smiled and brushed his hair from his face. “In this moment, I’m not sure how I could be better. You are extremely good at that. Like, you are an artist. A master of cunnilingus.”
He grinned the goofiest, cutest, sexiest grin, full of pride and pleasure. “Well, you are extremely inspiring.”
All at once, the world shrank to this singular point in time and space: Gia and Zaxx grinning at each other, panting, their naked, sweat-slicked bodies tangled. His arctic eyes sparked with heat, and she could almost literally feel the same flickering in her own.
She felt it in her chest, too, a searing, pulsing flame inside the cage of her ribs, under her heart. It had to be simply desire—fired to a feral intensity, but still only desire. Yet Gia had never felt a need so intense before.
Zaxx must have felt something like it; his expression changed, that wonderfully goofy grin giving way to animal hunger, and he crawled up to loom over her, propped on hands that rested on either side of her shoulders. The head of his cock brushed her belly, leaving a trail of slick across her skin.
His positioning was perfect for it, so Gia swung a leg over his hip and flipped them over. He landed on the rug with a thud and a grunt, then smiled up at her as she straddled him and sat tall. His cock was a beam beneath her ass. She hadn’t gotten a good look yet, but by the feel of it, the way it pressed between her cheeks, she knew it was substantial.
“No woman’s ever flipped me before,” he said. “Usually I do the flipping.”
“Is it a problem for you?”
He took her breasts in his hands. “If it was, I wouldn’t’ve followed you home.”
His thumbs brushed over the hard knots of her nipples, still hypersensitive with the wash of hormones her climax had released through her body. Arching into his touch, putting her hands over his to feel him as deeply as she could, she let her head drop back.
“Goddamn, G,” Zaxx muttered. “You are somethin’ else.”
She brought her head up again and caught his gaze. “Is that good?”
“It is brilliant. You are brilliant.”
Dropping over him, Gia claimed his mouth. His hands slid into her hair, gripped her head, held her to him. Already they’d found the way their mouths fit best, they’d found their rhythm, knew their dance.
One of his hands left her head and brushed the length of her back, slipped into the seam of her ass and held on. When Gia ground her hips on his, he lifted his ass from the rug to meet her.
