His cheeks burn brighter than the smear of strawberry syrup on his collarbone.
“You’re just saying that.”
I shake my head. “I’m a lawyer, remember? I don’t waste words.”
He looks down at the ruined shirt, then back at me, hesitation flickering across his face.
“You think they’ll laugh if I go back out like this?”
I step closer, reach for a paper towel, and dab at his mouth with slow, careful strokes that make him shiver.
“Nobody’s laughing at you. Not with me here.”
Carefully, I lift the shirt over his head. For a beat, the air between us tightens with electric heat. His bare chest rises and falls, his lips parting as if he wants to say something else, something more.
But instead, he whispers, “Thanks, Daddy.”
Two words, soft as a heartbeat. And suddenly I’m the one fighting not to spill something all over my shirt. HisThanks, Daddyhangs in the air, and something in me snaps tight. I dip my head before I can talk myself out of it, ghosting my breath across his nipples, now tight from the cold ice cream.
“Looks a bit sticky,” I murmur. My voice is rougher than I mean it to be. “Let me help you clean up.”
My tongue snakes out, tasting sugar and salt and the shiver that runs through him. He gasps, gripping the counter behind him, chest arching as if he can’t decide whether to lean into me or run.
Sweet skin, sweeter sound. I lap at the smear until all I can taste is Oren, until my lips brush the edge of his racing pulse.
I should stop. God, I should stop. But his fingers twitch toward my hair, and I’m already gone.
His fingers finally sink into my hair, tentative at first, then tighter, as if daring himself to want this as much as I do. That’s all the permission I need.
I close my mouth over his nipple, tongue circling before I suck hard enough to pull a sharp little cry out of him. His hips jerk, brushing against mine, and the sweet, clumsy mess of him just about wrecks me.
“Keane—”
It’s half-whisper, half-moan, and it shoots straight through me.
I drag my mouth lower, tracing the sticky trail across his stomach, each lick deliberate, claiming. By the time I’m on my knees, he’s trembling as if he doesn’t know where to put his hands.
I look up, and there’s nothing boyish in his eyes now. Just trust and heat.
“Still sticky,” I rasp, nuzzling against the bulge straining his shorts. “Want me to finish the job?”
He nods, fast and desperate, and my heart pounds as though I’m nineteen again, as though I haven’t sworn off letting anyone close. But Oren isn’t just anyone. He’s mine.
I tug his waistband down, freeing him, and then I don’t think anymore. My mouth opens, and I take him in, slow at first—because he deserves savoring—then deeper when his breath catches and his thighs quiver under my hands.
Every sound he makes is ice cream and summer and sin, and I’m starving.
I sink deeper, lips sliding hot and wet down his shaft, and the needy whimper he gives me makes my cock ache. I work him slow at first, savoring every twitch, every shaky inhale, letting him know he’s the center of my world right now. Then his fingers grip my hair tighter, urging me, and I answer with a long, greedy slurp that makes his knees buckle.
“God—Keane—” His voice breaks, then steadies, playful even in the wreckedness. “Make my undies sticky, Daddy.”
That does it. Something snaps in me, and I go to town, sucking him hard and fast, swallowing every little gasp and cry he offers as though they’re my lifeline. His hips stutter, his thighs trembling, and then he spills for me with a desperate cry,pulsing over my tongue until he slumps back against the wall, panting.
He’s grinning even as he’s catching his breath. “Confidence restored,” he declares, like the brat he is. “Now let’s go get more ice cream!”
He moves to tug his shorts up, but I catch his wrist, hauling him back down into my space. My mouth meets his in a kiss that’s slow, sweet, and sticky with his own taste.
“None for me,” I murmur against his lips, brushing my thumb along his jaw. “Already had my dessert. Sweetest thing here.”
The way his eyes go soft at that—as if he’s not sure he deserves to be wanted this much—damn near undoes me more than anything else.
