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She laughs softly but doesn’t make me beg.
Just parts her lips and sucks me deep.
Sensation explodes over me—wet and hot, tight and rough, her tongue flicking out to tease the head of my dick, making me shiver and groan, desperate for?—
“Fuck!”
Teeth.
For her dragging her teeth lightly up my shaft, taking me deep enough that I bump against the back of her throat.
She laughs softly, but even as I’m processing that sound, as I’m reveling in the beauty of that feminine confidence, she’s taken over, she’s showing me no mercy, putting every bit of knowledge she’s gained of me over the last decade plus to devastating use.
And it’s dangerous.
Because, just like that, I’m seconds away from coming down her throat.
I haven’t been with anyone.
I’ve barely used my hand.
Fuck, I pretty much thought that my dick didn’t work any longer.
But I should have known better—ever since I fell in love with Brit, I’ve only wanted one woman.
And now I’m in the presence of her again, now I’ve got a chance to put this bullshit behind us and…
Go back?
No.
But maybe I can hold off long enough that I can fix it…
Can finish it.
And then come back to her.
Maybe…maybe I can do that.
Maybe I have to do that.
She hums as she takes me deep again, grip so tight that I’m seeing stars, strokes so damned good, so much fucking better than my own hand that my orgasm coils tightly at the base of my spine.
One more second and I’m going to explode.
I grip her beneath her armpits, tugging her off my dick with a sharp pop of sound.
I miss the heat and wet and pressure of her tongue and teeth and lips.
But I need to taste her more.
I shove her back, and she bounces against the mattress, blond hair spreading out on her pillow, smile small but sexy as hell.
And then she’s reaching for her sweats, shoving them and her underwear down, leaving me with a glorious view of that sopping pussy of hers, spreading her legs and letting me see the folds glistening in the overhead lights.
I need to taste her.
Right now.
