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But my eyes take a detour and reroute themselves back to the zipper of his jeans.
Back to the visible bulge beneath it.
Back to the place that has me recalling the photo he sent me. Of him. In his boxer briefs.
I’d be a liar if I didn’t admit I saved that photo and I’ve looked at that photo one too many times since he sent it to me. And I’ve fantasized about said photo even more.
I’ve daydreamed about what he looks beneath the boxer briefs.
About how big and thick he is.
About what he would feel like hard between my hands. Heavy inside my mouth.
Holy Kraft macaroni… Would he even fit inside my mouth?
Pretty sure this is why deep-throating is a thing, Maybe…
I don’t know anything about deep-throating—or blow jobs, for that matter. Never even done it before. But fuck, I’d want to give it a shot. With Milo.
“Having Gilmore Girls withdrawals already?” His voice pulls me from my thoughts, and I look away from the zipper of his jeans to his blue as the sky eyes.
“Huh?”
“I lost you for a minute there,” he says with a small smile. “Where did you just go?”
Uh…to you and deep-throating and your penis and deep-throating your penis.
“Yeah…uh…” I pause and dig my teeth into my bottom lip. “I probably shouldn’t say.”
He tilts his head to the side. “What were you just thinking about?”
My cheeks flush red. I don’t respond.
“Maybe?”
“How do you deep-throat?” I blurt out the question, and Milo’s eyes go wide.
“What?”
Screw it. I mean, I asked him about DP the other day. What’s the big deal about asking him about blow jobs too?
The big deal is probably because you weren’t just thinking about blow jobs, you were fantasizing about giving him a blow job…
“Am I supposed to deep-throat?” I ask. “You know, like, when I’m giving a…you know…am I supposed to deep-throat? Do most guys expect that?”
His jaw goes unhinged for a brief moment, but he quickly recovers. “Well, I think that depends on the guy, Maybe.”
“Do you like deep-throating?”
“I like whatever feels good to the woman,” he responds without a second thought. “The only thing I don’t like is for a woman to give me a blow job because she feels obligated or like she’s supposed to. I want her to want to do it. I want her to enjoy it as much as I enjoy it.”
“I’ve never given a blow job,” I whisper, and his eyebrows rise.
“Really?”
I shake my head. “I mean, I’ve touched a penis before with my hands.” I gesture awkwardly in a showy jazz motion. “But I’ve never actually given a blow job.”
“Is there a specific reason for that?”
“Not really.” I shrug. “I guess it just never felt right. I never felt comfortable enough with the guy to do it.”
“That’s not a bad thing, Maybe,” he says with a soft smile across his lips. “I really admire you for waiting until it feels right.”
“Seriously?”
“I wouldn’t lie to you, kid.” He holds out his arms. “Come here,” he says, and I lie down beside him on the couch.
Milo runs his fingers through my hair, and I rest my head against his chest.
And God, his strong body against mine feels so good.
Just so incredibly good.
Instantly, I start to throb between my legs.
Fuck. I’m attracted to him. I’ve always been attracted to him. Even when I was a teenager and didn’t really understand what it was I was feeling whenever he was around.
I want him.
I want to explore his body with my fingers and lips and tongue.
I want to know if his cock feels silky and hard between my hands like I’ve imagined.
Or if he’ll actually feel heavy inside my mouth.
Stop overthinking, then. Just do it. Find out the answers for yourself.
Before I can second-guess it, I slide my body down his and rest my face right beside his zipper. Hesitantly, I lift my hand and place it right over the bulge of his jeans.
“Maybe?” he asks, his voice quiet but undeniably raspy with arousal.
I ignore him and move my fingers to the button and zipper of his jeans. They’re undone a few seconds later, and I can’t stop myself from sliding my hand beneath the waistband of his boxer briefs until I can feel his cock against the palm of my hand.
He’s hard and getting harder.
And he’s big. And thick. And perfect.
And now I want to see him.
Taste him.
Wrap my mouth around him.
And I don’t hold back.
Instead, I pull a Nike and Just Do It.
Milo
My cock is in her hands.
Her petite fingers grip me at the base and move up and down in a gentle, hesitant motion.
I’m hard, so fucking hard, I’m certain my dick could hammer nails.
“Maybe?” I say her name again, but she doesn’t respond.
Instead, she looks up at me from beneath her lashes and searches my eyes for a long moment. But her hands, well, they keep touching me, caressing me, stroking me.
