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on the tip of me, and I groan and grab the doorframe to keep myself up.
“Mhm”—she kisses me again—“you taste so good.”
That ache climbs up my stomach to my chest. “Nora . . .” Her name is dissolving cotton candy on my tongue. I moan again, not giving a crap about what does or doesn’t sound sexy.
Nora’s lips part, and she takes me inside her mouth. She’s just so pretty with my cock inside her mouth. Her dark eyes are looking up at me, and it’s hard to think about anything but filling her mouth with my come. I need to last longer—Please let me last longer than last time.
Watching her taste me, I think about how heavenly she tastes, better than any maple square my mom ever made.
Okay, enough about my mom, but I do need to think about nonsexy things to last longer. When Nora’s warm tongue gently grazes over the tip of me, I force myself to think about school.
I have an exam next week.
Work—I have to work tomorrow.
When I look away from Nora, she pulls back and looks up at me. “What’s wrong?”
“Huh?” I blink at her. “Nothing.”
Nora shifts her body and rests her hands on her thighs as she sets her eyes on mine. “Liar.” Then she adds gently, “Talk to me.”
I take a deep breath. What the heck am I supposed to say? Sorry, I’m just trying not to come in less than five seconds like last time?
No freaking way in hell.
“I’m just thinking, I guess.”
She tilts her head to the side. “Thinking about what?” A hint of red touches her cheeks and, oh, no, I don’t want her to think I’m thinking something bad about this . . . Or even thinking about anything other than the moment we’re sharing right now.
“Thinking?” she repeats, dipping her head down slightly. She moves her body a fraction of an inch away from me, and I feel the distance like a big, gaping hole in my chest.
I reach down and cup her cheek, forcing her to look up at me. “Nothing bad,” I promise. “I’m just nervous. Honestly, that’s what it is. I don’t know why.” I stop my rambling before I make a bigger fool of myself.
“Nervous? About what?”
“I don’t know.” I brush my thumb over her cheek, and her eyes flutter closed. “I’m trying to be cool and stuff, but last time I”—I pause—“last time, I was an idiot.”
Nora leans up and my hand falls from her cheek. “An idiot? How?”
My face is hot with embarrassment. “I came so fast, and—”
Nora stands up before I can finish my sentence. “Don’t call yourself names in front of me again.” Her voice is harsh, her eyes even more so. “By calling yourself an idiot, you’re contradicting my opinion of you and basically insinuating that I would be with an idiot.” She looks around the room and back to me. I get the feeling that she’s nowhere near finished. “And, you don’t need to be embarrassed about that. I enjoyed it, and it’s never a bad thing when someone is so turned on that they can’t wait to come.”
Relief floods me, and my shoulders relax. “It’s not very sexy.”
She glares at me. “You don’t get to decide what I think is sexy.” Her hand is on her hip now.
“I’m sorry.”
“And stop saying sorry for things you didn’t do, Landon. You did nothing wrong. You do that too much.”
I guess I do. When I think about it, I spend about half of my life saying sorry. Even if I haven’t
