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“Stop pressuring me. I’m deciding.”
His body was perfection, and she hardly knew where to start with him. But her inexperience was making her worry. Striker was her first official naked man. Well, outside of her genetics classes in college, where they had dead bodies to study. Did dead bodies count? She shuddered, hoping they didn’t.
“I’m almost afraid to ask what you’re thinking.” He brought her attention back to him. Before she could answer, he held up a hand. “No. Don’t. I know whatever it is, it’s gonna lead us down some weird path and away from the good stuff. Just get your head in the game and touch me. You got one more minute before I give up and go back to playing with you.”
“You are so impatient,” she complained.
He arched an eyebrow at her and waited.
She looked down his beautiful body and felt completely out of her depth. There wasn’t an inch of the man she didn’t want to experience. Well, maybe a couple. She eyed the diamondback tattoo.
“Maybe you should get rid of your snake before we have sex. I don’t want him watching us.”
He heaved a sigh. “First, we ain’t having sex. Right now, we’re having nothing because you’re too busy stalling. At this rate, we ain’t never gonna have sex. Second, the talking handbag is out cold. Nothing’s gonna wake him up.” He leveled her with a stare. “Now. Do. Something.”
“Fine!” With an irritated scowl, she leaned forward and took the head of his cock into her mouth.
“Fuck!”
His hips came off the bed, and his arm shot out from under his head. She felt his fingers tighten in her hair as she cataloged the sensations she was experiencing. He felt spongy and satin smooth. She tested the taste with her tongue, twirling around the mushroom-shaped head—salty, a little bitter, but not unpleasant. Striker groaned. His hips flexed, making him slip from her mouth.
“Stay still,” she ordered before sucking him back into her mouth. This time she kept a firm hand wrapped around his shaft to stop him from sabotaging her play time.
With another lap at the crown of his penis, she decided she liked his taste. Although, it probably would have been more addictive if it were sweet rather than salty. Or flavored. Oh, chocolate would be great. She wondered if she could manipulate male genetics to make him taste chocolatey.
“Stop doin’ fucking science experiments in your head and suck!”
She frowned as she twirled her tongue around the satin skin. How did he know what she was thinking? Was it a gift the mutated DNA gave him? Could he hear her right now? Striker? She thought hard. Can you hear me?
“That’s it!” He arched up, grabbed her
under her arms, and tossed her onto her back beside him.
He pinned her with a leg over her thigh. She tried to decide his emotion, hoping it wasn’t anger or disappointment. To her confusion, he mainly seemed frustrated and amused.
“I did it wrong, didn’t I?”
His eyes crinkled. “What were you trying to do exactly?”
She felt her cheeks burn. “I thought that was obvious. I was trying to give you pleasure, um, orally.”
He let his head fall, his eyes shut, and his shoulders began to shake. Was he laughing at her? This was mortifying.
“I told you I’d never done this before.” What did he expect? Did he think all women were born knowing how to have sex? It wasn’t like she’d taken a class on it. Were there classes in it? A distance learning course would be perfect. She could do it while she was stuck in Striker’s lair for the next year. If she didn’t die first, that was.
“And I’ve lost you again. You are murder on a man’s ego. I can honestly say I’ve never had this much trouble keeping a woman interested when she’s in bed with me.”
“Really? Now we’re going to talk about your many other women?”
He ignored her. “You’re thinking too much. Sex is about feeling.”
“I was feeling you,” she protested. “With my mouth.”
“I don’t mean touching, I mean experiencing. You sat there with my cock in your mouth for about five minutes doing nothing. You didn’t move. You just sat there. Your brain working so hard I could almost hear it. What the hell were you thinking about?”
Her cheeks were really burning now. “I was wondering if we could communicate telepathically. And…” She looked away from him, but her view was filled with overdeveloped shoulders instead. It didn’t help. “I was wondering if it would be possible to tweak your genetics to make you taste like chocolate.”
There was a pause before his whole body started shaking. His forehead fell to her shoulder, and his laughter was deep and hard. Friday lay there, enduring his amusement and wishing she hadn’t bothered to touch him in the first place. This sex thing was far too complicated. She should leave it to the professionals.
