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My thumb drifted over his abs.
Pre-cum coated the side of my nail.
I was getting closer to my target.
I moaned as he shifted higher, turning this from my playing field to his as he stroked his tongue against mine. It was gentle at first, then it wasn’t.
It was raw and hungry and deep.
He pulled back when I started mewling, nipping my bottom lip before he plunked his head down on his arm again.
“Why did you stop?” I complained.
“Because you’re not ready for anything else.”
“Says who?” I groused.
As my breathing calmed, I peered at his cock.
For a long time, I studied the one-eyed beast, then I drew up the courage to state, “You said you’d teach me to blow you.”
Not a question or a request—he’d probably say no. My husband was too good at denying himself. He was definitely better at it than me: the die-hard Catholic.
“I will.”
“You have an erection now.”
Yawning, he said, “My dick likes you.”
Though his words took me aback, I preened. “It does?”
“It’s attached to me, MaryCat,” he chided, but he was chuckling. “If I ain’t shown you enough that I like you too then we need to work on your self-esteem. You got problems with your self-esteem as well as daddy issues?”
My cheeks flushed. “Don’t mock.”
“Ain’t mocking. Just telling the truth. Technically, I got daddy issues too.” With a wink, he grabbed my hand and lowered it to his cock.
More matter-of-fact moves.
I was starting to think he’d patented them.
“Hold it tight like this,” he instructed. “You won’t break it. I’m rougher than you could be.”
My brow puckered. “I want to see you do it too.”
“I’ll add it to the list,” he teased, more amusement lacing his words.
Moving his fingers aside, he let me hold him and then placed his hand over the top of mine to better instruct me.
I shuddered at the feel of him. He was soft and hard—simultaneously.
Silently, he taught me how to jack him off. It wasn’t clinical, more informative. I could hear from how his breathing quickened that he liked my touch, so it made it more fun for me.
“You play with my balls and I’ll come faster. You grip ‘em and twist them in your palm, it’ll hold me off.”
“Why would I want to do that?”
His lips quirked. “Not everything’s a race to the finish line, MaryCat. Plus, I ain’t like you. You get to come over and over and over—” Each ‘over’ made me feel dizzy with the prospect. “—but I’ve got a few goes in me a night.”
