Page 39 of Patrick

“Fifi…” He turns my name into a raspy plea, sounding like a wounded beast begging for his life. I want to tell him I’ve got this, that he can let go and enjoy the ride, but I keep my mouth clamped on him.

Running my tongue around his tip, I lick his salty precum, and my pussy weeps with pleasure. Resisting my instinctive urge to move one hand down to touch my dripping pussy, I suck hard and take him all the way. Then, in unrelenting up-and-down plunges, I lose myself in an accelerating rhythm, moving faster and faster, pouring everything into the motion, into him, and feeling him stiffen like petrified wood. He twitches and spasms in my mouth until he cries out, his whole body jerking as he clamps his hands on my head, and cum shoots down my throat.

I’m ready, opened up for him like he’s the fountain of life providing my first, last, and only meal, swallowing and choking at the same time. I drink down his endless hot streams, filling up, drowning in unspeakable pleasure, not ready to stop when he finally stills.

He lets up his grip on my hair and holds my face, gently nudging me to release him. I gag as he pops from my mouth, and he yanks me by the shoulders off of him.

“Fifi… Fifi…” My name is broken on his lips as he drags me up to wrap me in his arms, pressed against his chest, raining kisses all over my sticky face.

My eyes water, and I’m not sure if it’s tears of joy or the strain of gagging from swallowing him whole. I laugh-cry and try to swipe my eyes, but my fingers shake. Spent and happy, somehow I feel proud too, because I’d never done this before, never lost myself with such abandon that I swallowed everything. Most of all, I never loved going down on any man so much.

With sudden unerring clarity, I know I’ll never go down on any other man again.

“My Fifi,” Trick murmurs, caressing my hair and my back and shoulders like I’m a fragile doll. “You’re so fucking amazing. And you’re all mine.” I whimper with ecstasy as if he’s opened the gate to paradise and yanked me inside.

“Are you alright?” He stops and lifts my chin to look into his face. “You gagged. I might have gotten carried away. Are you okay?” He examines me with his eyes as if he’s a doctor—a sex-doctor—or maybe just a damn sexy doctor.

I stare back, happy to soak in his caring and that tell-tale look of a man well-satisfied, the hooded eyes, the smooth brow, the relaxed set of his jaw. Except with Trick, there’s an added glow of heart-melting beauty that comes from me, from my eyes—the eyes of the beholder.

He squeezes my shoulders. “Say something.”

“I… loved sucking your cock. I think it’s me who might have gotten out of control.”

The vivid blue of his eyes darkens like pools deepening into infinity, going on forever, unreachable and yet transparent, giving me a glance inside at the same time.

He chuckles, and fine lines spread from the corners of those eyes, spreading my heart in my chest until I’m worried it will explode into a million pieces like a supernova.

He wraps me up in a cocoon-like hug. “I like when you’re out of control.”

I snuggle into him, content to stay like this all night. Then, as my leg twines with his, it hits me that he still has his clothes half on.

“Maybe you should undress. It might be nice to see your entire naked package.” I pull away, running a hand down his back underneath his shirt.

“What’s it worth to you?” He smirks. And there he is, transformed from the caring lover to the cocky Trick I know and⁠—

I stop my thought right there before I even think the L-word, and I must look alarmed because his brows crunch together.

“What is it? I was just kidding⁠—”

“I know. It’s okay. I need to wash up.” I ungracefully jump from the bed, too shaken to worry about what I look like. But I’m naked, and, as a wise fashion designer once said, there’s nothing more beautiful than the naked female body.

He whistles from behind me as I dash to the bathroom, confirming the theory about female nakedness and letting me know he’s no longer worried about my change of mood. How could he be worried about anything after being so thoroughly relaxed by way of a massive orgasm?

I shut the door behind me and take stock of myself in the mirror. It’s not my face I’m worried about, even though I do look flushed and disheveled. I decide it’s not a bad look and kind of sexy. But it’s the inner me I’m questioning.

Am I in love with Trick?

Shit. I don’t know the answer—or more accurately, I don’t want to know the answer. Not now. Not on this beautiful night when we’re so close to heaven.

Fully accepting the fact that I’ve turned into an emotional coward, I wash up and return to Trick in my bed, promising myself that I’ll look fully into the matter of the L-word in the morning.

In the morning… I hope to God he’s spending the night. Snuggling under the covers with him against his naked body—the second most beautiful thing in the world—I predict he will stay.

He aims a lazy grin at me. “Can I stay the night?”

“Don’t beg, Trick. It’s not like you.”

“Beg?” Feigning outrage, he lightly smacks me in the rear and a peal of giggles escapes me before he clamps a hand over my mouth. Our eyes catch and hold, and he replaces his hand with his mouth.