Page 46 of Date With Skates

Connor McVoy enjoys fucking me after games, and not just because I’m here and it’s convenient. No, he actually thinks it’s amazing. Because it’s me.

I move to go back to what I was doing, but he holds my face in place.

“I mean it,” he says seriously. “You’re not just another fuck.”

My chest warms, and I open my mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. He releases me, so I busy myself kissing down his stomach until I’m licking around the base of his cock. I pull him free and suck the head of his cock into my mouth.

He groans loudly, hands going to my hair as he thrusts his hips to go deeper down my throat.

“Fuck, yes…” he rasps out, sucking in a sharp breath.

I’m so hard just listening to the sounds he makes, urging me on, and the way his dick throbs each time I take him as deep as I can.

“Come here.” He reaches toward me.

With a raised brow, I release his dick.

“Turn around and get on top of me,” he says.

I smirk. “I love the way you think.”

I get into the sixty-nine position, and there’s no possible way to be modest like this. His chest is too wide for me to even try to keep my legs closed. I’m spread open for him to see every inch of me. He’s not complaining, and neither am I. I know I’ve got the goods. Men never complain. And Connor literally just said it’s good.

I feel his hands on me, roaming over my ass, sliding over my thighs. He drags a finger over my balls, causing me to hiss, before he runs his finger up to my hole and slowly slips it inside.

I suck in a deep breath but take him into my mouth again because I need something to focus on. If I don’t, I’ll come in seconds. Because that’s what he does to me.

Chapter Twenty-One

Connor

“No one has ever sucked my cock as good as you, Étienne,” I say as he wiggles his ass, which has me pushing my finger in deeper.

He shivers in response, and I can only guess it’s due to me saying his name.

He didn’t want to take the time to teach me French, so I learned it myself. He thought he was being smart by not doing it, to have something to tease me about—not being able to say his name properly—but I showed him.

Not that I think him teaching me French would have gone very far. At least, not in the way of teaching. There would have been flirting, innuendos, and it probably would have led to sex without me learning a thing.

When we’re together, we have better things to do. But really, it would have taken him only an hour or so if we could have focused on it. Probably less because that’s how long it took me on YouTube. I only repeated his name about a hundred times until it sounded exactly like the guy in the video.

There’s something about the way Étienne says his own name that’s so much hotter, though, but that probably has to do with the way I feel about him and what his French accent does to me. I never thought I had things for accents before, and I’m not sure it’s an accent thing.

It’s an Étienne thing.

“Of course they haven’t,” he says, his lips pressed against the side of my cock as he strokes me slowly.

I add a second finger, scissoring them inside him so he’s stretched for when I want to fuck him. Soon, probably, because I’m getting too close with his mouth around me and I really want to watch my cum drip from his tight little hole.

He squeezes my cock as I brush his prostate.

“Mon Dieu…” he whispers in a way that tells me he’s barely holding on.

“Are you close, my little troublemaker?”

“Mhmm,” he hums, his lips still pressed against my dick, the little vibrations of his words going right to my balls.

I sit up, and he yelps when I flip him over and get him settled on my lap, so we’re face to face. The smile on his lips is slow and cocky.