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“Fuck, Holly…”
The final surge came with little warning; my lover’s ass lifted from the bed and suddenly he was shooting off, straight into my mouth. I squeezed his balls when he came — a little trick I’d learned in a magazine — and simultaneously pushed with my thumb on the area of skin and muscle just below that. The added pressure against his perineum had him crying out loud, exploding ever harder and more forcefully, filling my mouth with thick jets of his hot, sticky come.
That little trick I’d learned from a particularly dirty ex-boyfriend.
“Oh FUUUCK!”
I couldn’t contain it all, and it was foolish to try. I swallowed the bulk of it, allowing the rest of his seed to spill from the sides of my mouth. They ran down my lover’s cock, over his balls, disappearing into the soft, jersey-knit sheets beneath his magnificent ass. I watched it go, then looked up into the mirror to stare back at myself… my lips all plump and sticky, my expression satisfied.
Donovan’s head lolled back and forth on his pillow as I climbed off of him. He was still moaning, still lost in the final throes of his climactic release.
“What the fuck…”
I laughed and slid up next to him. I felt perfectly at home in the crook of one big arm.
“You like?”
“Like?” He blinked at me several times. “What in the world was that?”
“That’s for me to know…” I teased, kissing the curve of his beautiful chest. “And you to enjoy…”
Thirteen
HOLLY
This time around it was I who performed the stealth-exit. I was the one who woke before the crack of dawn, gathering my things to silently slip from Donovan’s apartment.
He’d promised me breakfast. In the fashion of a true gentleman, he’d promised me a ride home as well. Still, as temping as it was to stick around for an inevitable third round of love-making, I wanted to be home, stretching out in my own shower. Letting the heated water run over me, maybe even cleansing me of last night’s sins.
Yeah… right.
Besides, I wanted to get going while the going was good. And it was Sunday. I had things to do. Lists to fulfill. Clients, whose shopping needs had to be satisfied…
Oh shit! Lincoln!
The thought didn’t hit me until I was halfway home, checking the text messages on my phone. One had been from Brody, and my stomach tightened as I read it. It was short. Sweet. Flirtatious. It made me fell insanely guilty at what I’d done with Donovan, as if somehow I’d “cheated” on the cute classmate who took me out on Friday night.
The next four messages were from Jocelyn, asking how my date went. Three of them demanded updates, politely at first, and then with an increasing sense of annoyed urgency. In the fourth one she flat out scolded me for being a terrible friend, ending it by
blowing me a kiss and calling me a ‘hussy.’
I smiled at that, but my smile quickly faded as I realized who the next message was from. I pressed the button, and read the early morning text from Lincoln:
Still on for tomorrow?
Pick you up at noon if that’s good.
Noon was actually perfect. It gave me time for a good rally: two cups of coffee and a scalding hot shower. I texted him back, apologizing for the delay and letting him know I’d be out in front of my building. Ready to be picked up… for the third time in three days.
When it rains it pours, right?
To say it had been a crazy weekend would be an understatement. And yet I was, about to go shopping with Lincoln Wallace. The man I’d been excited about seeing in the first place, before Donovan had even asked me out and before Brody had rescued me in the park.
Just treat it like a date…
Jocelyn’s words were still tattooed on my brain. Did I really want another date? Lincoln was heartbreakingly good looking. Incredibly successful. The CEO of his own marketing firm, and wonderfully single.
I thought about these things in the shower, and while I got dressed. I found myself putting on a cute outfit. A black skirt and knee-high boots, with a white cashmere sweater I’d treated myself to during one of last year’s after-holiday sales.
