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My gut lurches.
His eyes are glued to my reflection and I purposely lean forward, so he sees more of my arse. He groans again. Power ripples inside me.
I wrap my fingers around his cock—so hard, so hot—and tentatively trace its tip.
‘I’m an oral virgin,’ I say, knowing how the words will affect him, seeing the way he surrenders to desire. ‘You’ll have to tell me what to do.’
‘You want me to teach you what I want?’
‘Yes.’ More than anything. ‘What should I do first?’
I know he’s getting off on this, but so am I. I’m so turned on that moist heat has slicked my thighs. I want him to fuck me, but first I want to make him crazy. I want to give him so many memories that when I walk out that door he’s driven almost crazy with wanting me, knowing he can’t have me. Knowing I’m gone for good.
All his weight is on the wall behind him. ‘Open wide, angel.’
Angel. He called me that in New York. On our night together. My heart flips.
Go away, heart. You’re not wanted here.
I do as he says, my bright red lips parted, my mouth dry.
‘See how much of me you can take,’ he grunts.
I lean closer, drawing him in slowly, so painstakingly slowly that I wonder he doesn’t thrust forward and take over.
I know he’s big. I mean, I have no point of reference but his cock is huge. He feels so good in my mouth, better than I imagined. But I want to tease him, to torment him.
I take him as deep as I can, only halfway, and then draw back slowly, my eyes watching him watching me.
‘Like that?’
‘Like this.’
His fingers curl in my hair, holding me still, and now he pushes into my mouth, watching me, giving me a chance to say something. But I don’t. I kneel in front of him and take him all the way back, until his tip hitches at the back of my mouth. I moan with the fullness of him. He pulls out slowly and then takes me once more, moving my head up and down his length, letting me adjust to more of him each time, until finally my mouth claims him.
I taste his pre-cum at the back of my throat and I moan—this time with a desperation to climax, a need to come with him.
This night is about what he wants, but it’s what I want, too. It’s about what I need.
Manning Brown-Hadden eating out of the palm of my hand…
CHAPTER SIX
HER FINGERNAILS ARE PAINTED bright red. They call to me like a beacon as she pushes them lower, running them from the lace cups of her bra down her flat stomach to the elastic waist of her thong.
And lower still.
My hands tighten in her hair unconsciously as she touches herself, moaning around my di
ck while her fingertips work her clit hard and fast. I am close to coming, close to exploding. Her mouth is so hot and wet and tight, and her little noises as I thrust into her are like a drug to which I am addicted.
Moans of pleasure, moans of need, and as she touches herself they get louder and I feel their urgency reverberating at my tip. I watch her bent over, her arse jerking as she moves, writhing in time with our sensual need, her body matching mine in every stroke and flame.
I am so deep in her mouth I convulse, the first hint of my explosion at hand. I don’t want to come in her mouth; I don’t want to come now. Not yet. I want to savour this, to make it last. I want to live in her mouth like a fucking lollipop.
I grip her hair hard and pull her head back. She looks up at me, her cheeks bright pink, her face as familiar to me as my own from memories and dreams and all that we’ve shared.
‘Lick me,’ I say, needing to slow it down. ‘Lick me slow.’
