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He laughs uneasily. “Fair point.”
Wonder what that’s about.
I check the time on my phone. “You going to bed already? There’s still time for bingo at the senior center,” I tease.
Jesse parks himself on the edge of the bed. “Ha. No, I just thought I’d give you the option to change into something else if you want.”
I step toward him, placing myself between his knees. “What if I want to be naked?”
Jesse looks up at me, resting his hands on the outsides of my thighs. “That works too.”
I glance around. “I don’t see any pajamas laid out for you.”
“I sleep naked,” he says matter-of-factly.
“You do? What do you wear for sleepovers? You don’t have any ratty flannel pants? No silly Christmas PJs with Grinches on ’em?”
He lifts one shoulder. “Nope. This is my first sleepover in ten years, so I’m not sure. Track pants?”
I back up an inch and hold up my hands. “Wait a minute.”
“Track pants are a stupid thing to wear to bed; you’re right,” Jesse says.
“No! Back up to the part about not having a sleepover in ten years. What’s that about?”
“It’s about me not dating anyone since my divorce. And before that, my wife slept in one of the vacant rooms downstairs for two years. She got sick of my lying in bed for days and not showering.”
I don’t know what takes my breath away more, the fact that he shared such a detail about his struggles after his dad died or that he hasn’t shared a bed with anyone since years before his divorce.
“Jesse. But surely you’ve…had dates…done …things with other people since then. Between the divorce and me.”
He shakes his head. “You’re the first.”
Oh my god. This is a lot to take in.
“If that freaks you out…” he starts.
Okay. I’m done taking it in.
“Take off your jeans, Jesse.”
“Take off my jeans? Why?”
“Do you want your dick sucked or not?”
In rapid succession, Jesse has shucked his jeans, underwear, button-up shirt, and undershirt. Jesse’s broad chest boasts a sprinkling of fine dark hair that starts below his collarbone and ends in the happy trail below his navel. I reach up to caress his chest, and the swirl of hair there is soft, crowning a set of man nipples that look good enough to bite.
Jesse is all tanned planes and rugged ridges, with muscles in places I didn’t know there could be muscles. That spot below his pecs, above his ribs. Obliques that taper down to a set of perfect vee lines.
And the lines draw the eye to the main event. Jesse’s cock is hard and long, just as thick as I’d guessed when I cupped his junk earlier. And indeed, when I grip it, my fingers do not meet around his girth.
I continue exploring, tracing the thick vein that protrudes up the underside of his cock, touching the ridge at the head of it, noticing the wet gleam of precum at the tip. Jesse’s cock is warm and stiff in my hand, and twitches under the brushing of my fingers.
Jesse sucks in a breath at my touch. “Mariam. Ungh,” he grunts. “Your hand…touching too soft.”
“Sit down on the bed,” I whisper.
When he’s settled on the edge of the bed, I kneel in front of him, taking his length into my mouth. At first, I only lick the head, swirling my tongue and savoring his taste.
