Page 34 of Sexy

“Tell me to finish and I will.”

God, I want him to finish.

“Don’t feel guilt. It’s fun.”

“I do feel guilt. I feel dirty. But I still want you to finish.”

That smile again. God, it’s incredible. I love seeing him smile. And it makes me realize that the normal smile he wears all day is nothing like the real one. It’s fake.

“I’d like to as well,” he says. “So just do as you’re told and this one-day stand will end with perfection.”

His hands slide under my dress, cupping my ass cheeks. He lifts me up and presses his body against mine, grinding his hips against me. Not enough to hit the sweet spot between my legs, just enough to make me crazy with want.

He kisses me. His mouth is soft and tender one moment, hard and pressing the next. His tongue glides against mine, tasting me from the inside out.

He pulls away and stares down at me with his eyes heavy with lust. Does he really want me? “It’s still a one-time thing if we do it again in the same twenty-four hours.”

Well, I guess that answers my question.

“Do you think Cole will fuck you the way I did?”

“Um… I hope so?” What the hell was that? Do I detect a hint of insecurity in Fletcher Novak? He’s all over the place right now.

Kinda like me.

“I really should stop.” He stills his hips, waiting to see if I’ll encourage him to go on. We must be having the same struggle. We both want it, but know we shouldn’t. “Tell me not to stop.”

And because I was told to do as I’m told, and I’m rationalizing the hell out of this right now, I tell him. “Don’t stop.”

We’re both rationalizing this, but neither of us cares. He lowers me until my feet find the floor and then he places my hands on his belt buckle. “Kneel down and take me out, Tiffy.”

I glance up at him, meet his eyes for just the briefest of moments, and then glance down at my hands as they automatically pull the brown leather strap and start threading through the buckle.

He digs his hands into my hair, urging me to go faster. The buckle jingles as I get it loose, and then I pop the button open and drag the zipper down. I can see his hard bulge pressing up against his black boxer briefs and I can’t touch him fast enough.

I place my palm on his hot cock.

He moans out, “Yeah. Fuck, yeah. Grab it, Tiffy. Squeeze it hard. And then place your mouth on it and lick me through the fabric.”

I grip him hard like he wants me to, and then lean in and place my mouth on his length. His cock jumps from my touch, and that just makes me want to do more. I drag my tongue up and down his shaft, pressing on him with a little bit of force. He moans again and then his hands, still fisting my hair, begin rubbing my face into his cock. This time I’m more comfortable, so I let him control me. He rocks back a little, making me look up. I meet his gaze and he says, “Fuck, you turn me on. Keep going.”

So I pull down the waistband of his briefs until he springs out, hard, and long, and hot. I look up at him again and he throws his head back and groans, like that gesture—me looking up at him with his cock in front of my face—turns him on more than my actual lips when they wrap around his tip.

“Swallow me,” he whispers, pushing my head into his hips. I take as much as I can, but I’m not a porn star and before long I’m gagging.

“Breathe, Tiffy. Just breathe through your nose. Relax your throat,” he says, dragging a fingertip up and down my neck. “I want you to swallow me so fucking bad.”

I gag again, and saliva comes spilling out of my mouth, dripping down onto my dress.

“That’s so fucking hot,” he says.

And the fact that it turns him on to watch me drool spit makes me so turned on.

He thrusts once, hitting the back of my throat and making me struggle to get away. He lets go, understanding I’ve hit my limit, and then bends down like he did this morning and kisses me hard. “Tell me to fuck you, Tiff.”

“Fuck me, Fletch.”

He laughs when I call him Fletch. “God, what are you doing to me?”