“Don’t swallow,” I grunt out between pants.
My stomach clenches as I slowly drag over her tongue, not wanting to let any spill out. I groan softly again, rolling my head to the side at the sight. Her bright eyes search mine when I take a few steps back.
I reach toward her, hooking my thumb over her chin and pushing it down so that her mouth is wide open. The fireplace is behind me, and a little bit of light from the day is filtering in through the windows. Without asking, she sticks her tongue out, covered in my release.
Her thighs press together, and she squirms under my stare the longer I drink her in. Finally, after I think I’ve got my fill, Ibend to find the bottle at the foot of the couch, tip her head back, and pour a slow stream of whiskey over my cum.
With my index finger now hooked under her chin, I close her mouth for her. Her eyes stay fixed on me as her throat bobs once, letting the mixture slide down her throat.
Chapter Fourteen
Izzy
So,he’s a ten, but he won’t let you swallow his cum until he gets a chance to admire it on your tongue.
Got it.
The image hasn’t left the forefront of my mind for even a millisecond. Even now, as I run my hands over my eyes, letting the hot water in the shower fall over every lingering tingle in my body.
“I can smell my soap, woman,” Ledger calls from the doorway.
I smile, picking up the bar of soap and running it along the side of my neck and down my arms once more for good measure. Turning away, I let the conditioner rinse out of my hair at the same time.
A long shower can be good for certain things. Getting clean, for one. But it also seems to bring clarity for me. My bursts of thoughts are entirely unwelcome this time, though. Because even with the blissful aftereffects of our morning, I’m already struggling to make sense of it all.
It wouldn’t matter if I didn’t like him. But I do.
It’s not that deep,I tell myself with a shake of my head.
I’ve got to find a way to relax and push the anticipatory dread away. Nothing bad is going to happen, and we can have a mature adult conversation. If he likes me too, maybe we can see each other again.
If not, well . . . I don’t have the mental capacity to finish that hypothetical scenario at the moment.
I turn off the water, dry off, and pad into Ledger’s room. I’m surprised when I see some of my luggage against the wall near the door. He must have brought a few of my bags in here when I was showering so I’d have clothes.
Few days late to get me to sleep in your bed, dude. But I smile and pick out some clothes just the same.
And by clothes, I mean an oversized t-shirt and a skimpy pair of lace boyshort panties.
Ledger is in jeans and no shirt, standing in front of the stove. It smells like tomato soup, and I inhale the comforting aroma. I pluck the book I’ve been reading off the couch, pick up a bag of trail mix on the table, and hop up on the counter behind him.
He looks over his shoulder with a crooked smile, then does a double take when his gaze drops to my legs. I cross one over the other, open my book to hold in front of me, and toss a handful of nuts and chocolate into my mouth.
I can’t help but giggle when he sets down the wooden spoon and spins toward me. It’s difficult, pretending to read the book instead of eyeing the forest of tattoos spanning the length of his chest and one of his arms.
“How am I supposed to cook in these conditions?” he groans, one hand on each of my thighs, parting them so he can stand in between.
I eye him over the top of my book with a quirked brow. It takes him all of three seconds to snatch it out of my hand, yank me toward the edge of the counter, and smother my mouth with his.
His hands smooth over my back, and I relax into his arms. He’s hot enough that I would have forgiven him for being an average kisser. But I’m glad I didn’t have to, because his lips fit over mine so perfectly that I could melt on the spot.
Is this what we do now? From strangers to kissing in the kitchen like we’re two long-time lovers in a domestic bubble of blissful ignorance?
I cling to his neck, twirling the ends of his thick brown hair between my fingers while he massages my lower back. I catch his lower lip between my teeth and he all but growls, pulling me tighter toward him.
This does absolutely nothing to distract me from my feelings problem, unfortunately. Now would be a good time for him to do or say something terrible so that I can be on my merry way and never look back with another thought.
Oblivious to the looming aftermath of this weekend, I’d have kept kissing him until my lips fell off if the satellite phone didn’t interrupt us with a blaring ring.
