Page 55 of Serving Bunt

I did, hips rising off the bed so he could strip me bare. And just like that, I was naked under him, my cock flushed and leaking, every inch of me exposed to his gaze.

Diaz licked his lips.

I let out a shaky laugh. “You look like you’re fixin’ to swallow me whole.”

“That’s kind of the plan.” His gaze dropped pointedly to my cock. “Any objections?”

I shook my head.

“I’m sure you hear this all the time, but that’s one magnificent cock.”

Laughter shook my chest. “You’ve seen me naked before.”

“Never like this.” His voice dropped lower, rougher. “Never when you were hard for me or I got to look my fill without pretending I wasn’t.”

His raw honesty made me squirm.

I reached for the hem of his shirt, but he caught my wrists, pressing them back to the mattress.

“Not yet,” he whispered. “I need to taste you.”

I nodded, my throat too tight to speak.

He kissed a trail down my throat, down the center of my chest, pausing to flick his tongue over one nipple until it pebbled tight. I hissed, back arching. He soothed the sting with a slow circle, then moved to the other side and did it again. Every pass of his mouth sent fresh heat pooling low in my gut.

He moved lower still, kneeling at the foot of bed.

His fingers found the trail of strawberry-blond hair that started just below my navel and arrowed downward. He traced it with the pad of his index finger, following the soft line like he was mapping uncharted territory.

In a way, he was.

“Fuck,” I breathed, hips twitching. “Peter, please.”

He pressed a kiss right at the start of that happy trail, then dragged his tongue lower. The roughness of his stubble scraped just enough to make me shiver. When he reached the base of my cock, he paused, nose brushing the coarse hair there, inhaling like he was savoring me.

He wrapped his hand around the root and looked up at me through hooded eyes.

“Eyes on me, tesoro,” he said. “Watch.”

I didn’t need to be told twice.

He leaned in and licked a slow, broad stripe from base to tip. My hips jerked off the bed, and he pressed a forearm across them, holding me down with gentle pressure.

“Stay still,” he murmured against my skin. “Let me have you.”

I nodded enthusiastically.

Little did he know that he could have me any which way he wanted—on my knees in the locker room, bent over one of the recliners in his home movie theater, trembling under his mouth, completely at his mercy.

The thought alone sent another hot pulse of want racing through me. I’d spent months pretending I didn’t ache for him to take me apart, and now that the moment was here, the only thing I felt was bone-deep need.

Peter Diaz could have all of me. I was his for the taking, and fuck if that didn’t feel like coming home.

He sank down slowly, lips stretching around my length. His tongue swirled along the underside until finally, I hit the back of his throat.

My fingers twisted into the sheets.

Diaz pulled back just enough to take a breath and then sank down again. His free hand slid lower, cupping my balls. He rolled them gently in his palm, stroking over the sensitive skin behind them in slow, steady circles. The dual sensation was enough to make me forget my own name.