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“My mom.” I have to swallow past a knot in my throat. “She had this pendant, you know. A silver swan. She always wore it, and when she left...” Fuck this fever, for making my eyes burn like that. “I thought she’d left, and as time passed, I started to forget her face but I could remember the swan, and later...”
My voice has gone out. What the fuck. The words are stuck, something stopping any sound from coming out, any air from getting in. My lungs constrict, my chest aches.
“Okay,” she says, still speaking so soft, like velvet brushing over me. “Okay.”
She doesn’t ask for more and I don’t tell her how, later, when I gathered enough money, I went and had it inked so I wouldn’t forget her. I thought I’d see her again someday.
But of course I wouldn’t. Never again. The swan on my skin, the pendant in my pocket, the faded photographs in the box under my childhood bed, that’s all I have left of her.
“Ross... come here.” She turns and smooths both her small hands over my face, her palms cool on my heated skin, tugging me down until I’m looking down at her, her wide eyes, her soft mouth, her flushed cheeks.
And she kisses me.
What did I do? I must’ve done something...right, for her to initiate it, or am I going nuts? For the first time, she’s the one stroking my face, moving her lips over mine—too damn gently when I have to fight the urge to haul her on top of me and invade that sweet mouth with my tongue, bite her, mark her, make her mine.
I make myself stay very still while she explores the corners of my mouth, tracing its shape, then the dimple above my upper lip. Her clever little tongue parts my lips, drags along mine, a whisper of friction and I’m so fucking unbearably hard I’m about to bust a nut.
Jesus Christ. What’s she doing to me? My head feels too fucking light, and I can’t tell if it’s the fever or my blood rushing south.
Then she’s breaking the kiss and sliding down to her knees, between my legs. My fuddled brain takes a long moment to process this.
“What... are you doing?” Seeing her face so close to my crotch is so fucking sexy, but I need her to stay and can’t risk fucking this up by misunderstanding. “Luna.”
“I want to see you.” She starts undoing my jeans, button by button, and okay, can’t argue with that. Anything that gets her close to my hard-on is good, even if she only wants to ogle the goods. I should be content with that, with the kissing, the touching, just everything.
But she is between my legs, and my smartass mouth can’t be stopped. “Now I see why you’re here. You wanna see my dick. Admit it, sweets. You want me.”
Her green eyes flash up at me, fringed with thick lashes, a spark dancing in their middle. It’s strangely fascinating, and I lean forward to frown at it.
She looks away.
“In the garage,” she says, “you got me off. I’m returning the favor. I don’t like having debts.”
I have trouble processing what she’s saying. “What the hell?” Might be the fuzziness in my head, might be her proximity to my hard-on.
What can I say, it’s a toss-up.
She sticks out her tongue at me, confusing me even more—hell, was she serious or not, about it being payback?—and then distracts me again by pulling my pants down, freeing my cock so that it slaps against my stomach.
And then I can’t think anymore, because she leans in close, her warm breath washing over my twitching, aching hard flesh, and puts her hand on it.
Just rests her delicate hand on top of my hard-on, and my balls lift, excruciatingly tight, drawing a groan from deep inside my chest. She smirks up at me, as if she can’t see I’m about to shoot my load all over her face, and strokes her hand along the underside of my cock, finding the piercings and lingering there.
Oh God. Oh fuck... I shift on the bench, arching into her touch, panting.
Goddamn, you’d think I’m a fucking virgin from the way my body responds to her. No other chick will ever do it for me after this, I think
.
And she’s only toying with the two silver barbells under the head, making me hiss at the intense pain/pleasure. Normally I forget they’re there, but when I’m rock hard like now, it makes everything tighter, every touch another spark feeding this burning want.
“Never seen a pierced...” She licks her lips and I almost groan again. “A pierced penis before.”
“If you call my dick a “penis” again, I’ll lose my erection and go all soft on ya,” I warn her, only half joking.
She laughs, a light airy sound, a trickle of air on my dick that has me arching again. “A pierced dick, then.”
“Seen many dicks, have you?” I try for nonchalant and teasing, but it’s hard to pull off when I’m still panting like I’ve been running a marathon. My balls ache. My dick twitches.
