Page 46 of Grouch-ish

“Being selfish,” she hums as her gaze lowers to the stiffness growing in my boxer briefs.

“How is that being selfish?”

“I want to taste you.”

Fuuuck! “I—” Admitting that’s it has been a while since someone went down on me would be embarrassing. I just haven’t had the same desire I once had to meet a random woman in a bar and hook up for one night only. The guys at the firehouse would crudely joke lack of sex has been my problem lately. They have no idea how close they are to the truth.

“I’m clean,” I tell her, wanting her to know to some extent my sexual history. “Went to the doctor in November. Go every year around my birthday.” And it’s been eight months since I’ve had sex.

“I don’t think I’ll last very long,” I add.

She’s looking up at me with wide eyes and pouty lips. She isn’t even intentionally playing sex kitten and that makes me want to purr.

Releasing her wrist, I lean back again and hitch up my hips so she can lower my boxer briefs to my ankles before she tosses them behind her, letting them float away in the tub. The cool edge of the tub is a shock at first but when she tenderly kisses my tip, all thoughts of the temperature are gone. My focus is solely on the woman between my knees, looking up at me with hesitant eyes while pressing her lips to my lower head.

“Snowflake,” I groan. I’m as stiff as an icicle but as hot as a flame when she wraps her hand around my dick and tugs upward while dropping her mouth around the head.

“You’re so big.”

Words every man wants to hear.

“Jesus.” Mary and Joseph, and all the holy saints. My eyes roll back, and my hips jolt as Pear smooths her mouth down my length, slowly drawing me to the back of her throat.

“Oh baby,” I whimper like a lost child. I lift a hand and stroke over her head, combing my fingers through her damp hair.

Pear drags back up my shaft, swirls her tongue around the crown, and then opens wide and takes me in again.

“Ffff—” I can’t even form a complete word as she hollows her cheeks and slips up and down, gliding me in and out of her wet mouth. Her hand pumps the base, working what she can’t take deep between her sexy lips. And I’m a mess when she cups my balls with her other palm.

My hips jut upward, and Pear chokes. “Sorry. Sorry. But please don’t stop.”

She shakes her head while keeping her concentration on the task in her hand, and in her mouth.

I’m totally going to blow too quick because she’s too good. Her mouth is too warm. Her hand the right pressure. Her tongue doing that thing and—

“Paradise.” Cupping her cheeks and attempting to tug her free is the only warning I can give her, but she clamps down harder, sucking stronger, and I go off like the fireworks last night celebrating a new year. Little stars dance before my eyes, as I pet her hair, and she swallows down the raining explosion before dragging up my length and pressing a final kiss to the tip.

Her head slowly lifts. Her lips still cherry-red but damp. Her eyes are bright and wide when she says, “You called me Paradise.”

“Because you are fucking heaven, baby.”

Chapter 12

[Pear]

I could quip that I’ve heard that statement before but in Brock’s strained tone, it isn’t a line. Spoken with pure reverence despite the profanity, his eyes are the thing that further confirm his sincerity. That coal-color is a soft black, like liquid ink, and I want him to scribble all over me.

I want him to call me Paradise and tell me I’m perfect, like he did last night.

Instead, he moves forward, forcing me back, and dips back into the hot tub, retrieving his boxer briefs and pulling them up his legs to cover himself.

Suddenly, his hands are on my hips, and he pulls me up and out of the water, setting me on the edge of the tub.

Paybacks is on the tip of my tongue but as Brock scans my body from the top of my head to my knees as my lower legs remain in the heated pool, I can’t speak. I’m not certain a man has ever looked at me the way he’s admiring me.

“Breast guy or ass man?” I finally ask, as I anxiously await his move. He isn’t touching me. He isn’t stroking my legs or standing to kiss me. Instead, he’s visually exploring every slope and curve of my body.

This one-piece suit, cut straight across my chest in a bandeau style, leaves little to the imagination. My breasts aren’t that big for being a bigger girl. My belly is flat but still soft. My thighs are thick and my—