Page 88 of Big Dill

I urge him onto his back and trail kisses along his stomach, following the line that leads to his cock. As my mouth explores, my fingers trailing, he inhales sharply, his hands tighten in the sheets.

My heart pounds faster, a thrill going through me as I work my mouth over him, loving it, which is crazy, because I’ve never really loved this before.

I cup his balls and he curses, and grips the back of my hair, tangling his fingers through it, so he can take control of my pace. He holds me still, his hips coming off the bed, so he can feed me his cock, and this time I’m the one moaning with pleasure.

“Like that, babe? You like sucking my cock?”

I mumble around his length and he chuckles. I take him deep, moving my head back and forth and then he tugs on my hair, lifting me from him. There’s a new kind of intensity about him when I meet his gaze, and my heart jumps.

“Lay down,” he orders in a soft voice. “I need my mouth on you.”

I nod emphatically. “Okay.” I settle on the bed, my head sinking into the pillow as my nerves fire. Brody stands, takes his cock into his hand and strokes as he gazes at me. I watch the way he pulls, the way he dips into his pre-come and I swear to God, my ovaries are seconds from exploding.

He drops onto his stomach, slides his hands under my buttocks and lifts my sex to his mouth, claiming me. That first touch of his tongue sends my thoughts into outer space and I moan and fist the bedsheets.

“Brody, that is…”

I open my eyes to find him watching me—really watching me—with an intensity that makes my pulse stutter.

“Delicious,” he murmurs, the word rough. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

And in that moment—when the joking fades, when the teasing falls away—I realize how completely, easily I could lose myself in this man, and again that should scare me.

“You do the same to me,” I admit honestly, and it gives him pause.

He reaches up, lightly cups my cheek. “Aww, Little Birdie. Are you a mess too?” I nod, and his look is warm, tender, before turning his attention back at my sex. He lightly pets me. “I want to be in here. Tell me you want that.”

“I want that.”

“Will you come all over my cock?” he asks, his voice low, deep…tortured.

“Yes.”

“I need to get a condom, but I can’t leave here.” He licks me again, and my heart studders.

Should I?

Before caution can take hold, I touch his hair, weaving my fingers through the soft strands. “Brody, I’m on the pill and I’m clean.”

He doesn’t speak. He just stares at me, and I go still. Should I not have said that? Did I cross a line?

“Brody?” My voice wavers, and I begin to sit up.

His hand gently presses down on my stomach to stop me, his eyes darkening with something I can’t quite read. “Are you sure?” he finally asks.

“I am.” It’s crazy, but when it comes to Brody, I really am sure.

“I’m clean too,” he tells me. “I haven’t been with anyone since…”

“Me?”

He nods and that shouldn’t make me ridiculously happy. He looks at me, like he’s waiting to hear about my sexual escapades since him.

There were none.

“The last guy I was with…” I begin and the muscles along his jaw clench, the fingers stroking my sex going still. “It was this lumberjack.”

There’s a new kind of intensity about him as he climbs up my body, pressing me into the mattress under his weight. The groan that escapes me is a mixture of need and raw desire. I love the way he restrains me, how he gives me freedom by taking charge.