Page 13 of A Quick Pit Stop

“Probably not.”

The corner of his mouth twitches. “Honest. I like that.”

“I’ve been nothing but.”

He looks at me, and just for a beat, his eyes go soft. Tender, almost. It’s a fleeting look, gone as quickly as it came, but it hits me right in the chest. Before I can process it, he reaches down, pulls off one boot, and drops it on the carpet. Then the other. Two heavy thuds. He peels off his socks, then plants a bare foot on the edge of the bed. It has to be a size fourteen, at least.

A nod toward his foot. “You said you’d do anything. Prove it.”

He must think telling me to kiss his feet is the ultimate degradation. And for a lot of guys, it would be. But not me. I love nothing more than a guy’s foot in my face. Especially one as perfect as his. High arch, a smattering of dark hair on the toes, clean, trimmed nails. I push myself up, crawl over to the end of the bed, and take that big foot in my hands.

I press my lips against the top of it, then drag my tongue along the arch. Tasting every mile he’s driven. Warm, salty skin, the smell of sweat and leather. I start with the smallest toe, sucking it into my mouth, then the next, working my way across until I reach the big one. I swirl my tongue around it the way I worked his cock. Then I take that big toe into my mouth, looking up at him as I suck it.

“Fuck,” he breathes. “You’ll really do anything, won’t you?”

I release his toe with a wet pop. “Told you. Anything.”

He switches feet, and I worship the other one too. Tongue between his toes, lips along the soft sole, nose pressed into the arch, breathing him in. I wonder if anyone has ever done this forhim before, if he has any idea how fucking hot he is from this angle. How powerful he looks standing over me, fully clothed, watching me service him.

“These feet have been sweating in boots all day, and you’re licking them like they’re covered in honey,” he mutters.

“They could be covered in mud, and I’d still want my mouth on them,” I say between licks.

He yanks his foot back. “That’s enough. On your back.”

I scramble to obey. My cock is a rigid bar against my stomach, weeping all over my abs. I haven’t even been touched yet, and I’m already close to coming for the second time today. This man is going to be the death of me.

Dominic stares down at me with those caramel eyes, burning. Then he grabs the hem of his shirt and pulls it over his head in one motion. And there he is. Even better than I imagined. A smattering of dark hair across a broad chest, a hard stomach, a trail that disappears into the waistband of his jeans. Biceps that flex as he tosses the shirt aside.

“You’re so fucking hot,” I whisper. “Jesus Christ.”

“Yeah?” He pops the button on his jeans, then slowly drags the zipper down. “You want this, Ryan?”

“More than anything.” My hands are fisting in the cheap comforter. I’m trying so hard to be good, to wait for my orders. But it’s taking everything I have not to reach out and touch him.

He shoves his jeans and boxer briefs down in one push. His cock springs up and slaps against his stomach, thick and furious, already drooling precum down the shaft. He fists the base and angles it toward me. “Beg.”

“Please,” I gasp, spreading my legs wider without even thinking about it. “Please, Dominic. Let me have it. I need your cock so bad.”

“You need it?”

“I’m dying for it.”

“Show me.”

I pull my knees up to my chest, exposing my hole to him. A muscle jumps in his jaw. Spreading my ass cheeks apart with both hands, I beg. “Please, Dominic. I’m so empty. Fill me up. I want to feel that huge cock pounding into me. I want to leave this room sore and full of your cum.Please.”

His knuckles are white where he’s gripping the base of his dick.

My hole is winking at him, clenching around nothing. “Look at that. It’s begging for you. Just like my mouth was. It wants you so bad.” His breathing gets heavier, but his feet stay planted. So I decide to put on a show for him. I grab the bottle of lube from the nightstand and flick it open. Legs still in the air, I drizzle a stream of it over my hole. The cold hits my overheated skin, and I moan, arching my back. I know how this looks. Lewd. Desperate. I don’t care. I circle my entrance with a slick finger, then push it inside. All the way to the last knuckle.

“Christ,” he grits out, taking a step closer to the bed.

“You like that?” I ask, pumping my finger in and out. “You like watching me open myself up for you?”

“Add another one.”

I do. Two fingers now, scissoring myself wide, stretching my hole for the beast he’s packing. I’m so worked up by him watching me, by the hunger in his eyes, that I have to be careful. I could come right now. Just from this. From his dark eyes on me, from the rough command in his voice. From the thrill of being on display for him.