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“Keep your hands there,” he whispered.
My fingers flexed on the glass, my fingers spreading as he cupped my breast. He tugged my hardened nipple, going from right to left and back again as his other hand slid down the stretchy waistband of my skirt and into my panties.
No teasing this time. He slipped down, between my thighs. He groaned at the wetness there. I was completely bare and my arousal just didn’t have anywhere to go. I was soaked. My breath rushed out as he slid one finger, then two inside me. Just along the edges at first before dipping deeper, then moving upward to pinch my clit between his fingers.
He matched the song, his movements almost trancelike as he seduced me.
I pressed my ass against his cock. It was so hard. There was no denying he was proportional in every way. Thick and long with a curve that made my mouth water.
A groan fell from my lips.
I was getting close.
The more he plucked, pinched, and stroked, the more I tensed.
“Are you close? I’m getting mixed signals.”
“I…”
He circled my clit. “You’re so damn wet. I just want to slide inside you right now.”
“Yes. Yes, get it over with, please.”
“Get it over with?” He withdrew his fingers. “This isn’t about getting it over with.” He turned me away from the window. “If you feel like that, I absolve you of any supposed deal we made.”
“No. I didn’t mean it like that. I’m just nervous.”
I did not want to blurt out that I was a twenty-seven-year-old virgin. The looks I received when I shared that information were enough to kill the mood.
As if there was something wrong with me.
Trying to rectify the situation just made it even worse, so I’d stopped bothering. It was easier to work, and forget about dating. I even tried not telling a few men over the years, but I’d tense up so much they’d guess. I wasn’t a very good liar and most men jumped out of bed as if they were being scalded.
Why couldn’t I find a guy that was excited about being first?
I’d take a douchebag looking for a notch on his belt at this point, just to get it over with so I could stop freaking out about it. But Linc wasn’t a jerk. And he knew something was up.
So I did the only thing I could think of. I dropped to my knees in front of him.
His eyes went stormy and the blue was so dark it seemed black. “Kay,” he whispered.
This was one thing I knew how to do. Since my life only included foreplay, there were things I had gotten good at. Especially if I wanted a boyfriend for a while.
Most guys wouldn’t question getting a blow job. In fact, most men were so happy to get one, they didn’t push for more.
I unzipped his jeans and reached in for his cock. My fingers trembled a little at his size. Did I mention proportional? Gifted perhaps? Yeah, gifted was one word for it. My long fingers looked so fragile around his girth. Short burgundy nails seemed elegant next to his ruddy length.
So hard.
A vein throbbed under his shaft and I followed it with the flat of my tongue before I could think about where to start. I looked up at him as I licked my way up to his head and twirled my tongue along the flared head.
His fingers curled into fists at his sides. I wanted them in my hair.
He’d said he had ideas about my braids. Would he steer my head to do exactly what he wanted? Would he pull hard? Would he wrap them around his palm?
God, I wanted to know. I sucked the tip of him into my mouth and his hands went up to lace behind his head. I hummed around him, taking him deeper with every gliding thrust. I stared up at him and my body buzzed in awareness.
I could usually disassociate myself from what I was doing. Giving pleasure without looking for retribution was as easy as breathing. This was not. Nothing about this felt like the usual act of oral. I stroked my hand down the rest of his length as I took him as deep as possible. With my other hand, I squeezed my breasts halfheartedly. My skin felt as if fire ants were feasting on me.
