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I shrug, confirming I’ve never heard this one before. And he faux scowls at me, like I’ve somehow offended him.
I laugh. “Is it from the seventies?”
“The sixties! For the love of fuck, woman. It’s one of the greatest love songs ever written. Listen carefully. They’re saying everything I feel, to a T.” He smiles. “I’ve actually had this song stuck in my head for weeks.”
How is it possible for a man to be this sweet and loving? He’s like a puppy. There’s literally not a single mean or hurtful bone in his body. But lucky for me, he’s also sexy as hell. And, currently, hard as a rock behind those tighty-whities.
My smile turns sexual and heated. “Can I snap a photo, before you take off those undies? You look incredible right now. I never want to forget this moment.”
He shrugs. “Knock yourself out.”
I grab my phone off the nightstand. And to my surprise, Fish poses for me with enthusiasm this time, looking far more comfortable in his skin than the time he posed for me in his underwear during one of our earliest video chats. Wow. Fish isn’t self-conscious or shy this time. He’s not wondering what to do with his hands. No, this time, my hunky boyfriend is smoldering at me, every bit as much as Colin did on that billboard in Times Square.
“Well, that shot ought to come in handy on lonely nights,” I say, plopping my phone onto the nightstand.
“Let’s not talk about lonely nights this week,” Fish says. “I don’t even want to think about being away from you, ever again.”
Oh, my heart. “Same.”
We share a look of pure longing at our predicament—at that fact that, in about a week, Fish will hop onto a flight back to LA, while I stay in Boston.
“I shouldn’t have mentioned that,” I say. “Come on. Continue your striptease—but fast-forward to the part where you whip it out, if you don’t mind.”
Without hesitation, and no finesse whatsoever, Fish rips off his undies and flings them across the room, making me laugh. And then he stands before me, his dick straining, his green eyes blazing, and his hands on his hips. “Come to Papa,” he murmurs.
Giggling, I lie back onto the bed and spread my legs slightly, letting him know I’m his for the taking. That I’m not nervous tonight. At all. Only excited and wet and ready.
Fish crawls onto the bed next to me, pulls off my underwear, and begins kissing every inch of my body. My breasts. Rib cage. Belly button. He licks and sucks my stiff nipples, making me groan and clutch his hair. He kisses my inner thighs, making me shudder violently with arousal and anticipation.
After a while, when I’m moaning and shaking, he begins brushing his fingers up and down my folds, making me quiver and yearn like nothing I’ve felt before.
Breathing hard, he begins tracing the recent pathway of his fingers with his mouth. But he’s teasing me. Kissing my delicate folds with precision, while seemingly taking care never to make contact with my throbbing, aching clit.
He spreads my thighs wide and inhales me before hovering his lips over the hard, swollen tip that’s aching for him. I feel his warm breath tickling me. Teasing me. I’ve never felt the sensation of a warm, wet mouth on my most intimate places, but I’ve imagined it, many times. And now that it’s about to happen, I can honestly say I feel physically desperate for it. So wet and needy, I begin whimpering softly.
Finally, Fish brushes his fingertip against my clit, ever so gently, and I literally scream in response, making him jolt.
“Sorry,” I choke out. “I couldn’t help it.”
“Don’t apologize. I loved it. Scream. Moan. Don’t hold back.”
When I nod, and gasp for air, Fish flashes a smile, the likes of which I’ve never seen from him before—like he’s a mob boss, ordering a hit—and then, he spreads my thighs, yet again, opening me wider than before, and finally, thank God, the man leans in and gets to work.
Holy Mother of Pearl.
I knew this was going to feel good, but I had no idea it would feel this good.
As Fish’s tongue and mouth devour me, he slides his fingers inside me and strokes a spot just on the inside of my entrance. And the combination of the two types of stimulation—his mouth on my clit and his fingers stroking that spot—is making my eyes roll back into my head in ecstasy.
He’s relentless.
Steadfast.
Merciless.
Masterful.
As my body ramps up and up and up, Fish doesn’t slow down or speed up. He just stays the course, deftly guiding me closer and closer to the brink—to a place where I feel like I’m going to lose complete control of myself.
All of a sudden, my body tightens sharply.
And, then . . . heaven.
