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There was a rough emphasis on the word ‘you.’
As in, nobody else.
Just me.
My core didn’t just light up. I turned radioactive. It was a wonder I didn’t start glowing.
Me.
Nobody had ever made me feel special before. Not even my ex, Maverick, who, I knew, had loved me at one point. Not as a friend, but as a partner. But what Conor could do with a few croaky words took me to a place I hadn’t known existed, one that probably hadn’t until I met him because he was carving it out as his own.
To thank him for his words, I pressed my lips to his. Then I nuzzled my nose against his jawline and gently suckled a spot on his throat. As my tongue palpated the tender skin, he rocked his head back against the stone wall and let me tease the sensitive area until I knew I’d left a mark.
I wanted to see that tomorrow morning.
I wanted to remember this moment.
I didn’t want to forget tonight.
With soft motions of my fingers, I shaped him through his jeans. I didn’t want to trigger him, only wanted him to adjust to the movement. Like he was trying to make sex special for me, I wanted the same in reverse.
Slowly, I dropped down, my nails running along the length of his torso as I settled on my knees. The cobblestones beneath me were cold and damp, and I’d ache later, but this was now, and now was all that mattered.
I let my lips drag over his still-covered dick, then I found the zipper with my teeth. I’d learned so many techniques during my time at Club Pervert, unwillingly, but the idea of putting it to good use, of bringing a man who cared about me pleasure, somehow seemed like the biggest revenge of all.
I tugged on the zipper and pulled it down. When he cursed under his breath as his cock appeared in the gap, I hummed and let my tongue run over it.
“No boxer briefs this time,” I murmured as I traced the thick vein that throbbed beneath my tongue.
“You keep making me come in them,” he bit off.
Fuck, that sent a zap of pleasure straight to my pussy.
Me. Again. He gave me ownership of that even though he did most of the work.Igave him release.Imade him come in his pants.
My thoughts had me panting but I forced myself to focus as I concentrated on getting his cock wet.
“Oh, fuck,” he growled. “Can I touch your hair?”
His consideration filled me with gratitude, and when I moaned my assent, his fingers speared through my loose locks, the tips dragging against my scalp, not to force, just to urge me close.
When I delved inside his fly, he hissed as his dick flopped out. He was thick and hard and long. My pussy clenched at the thought of taking him. I knew he’d split me wide open, and those inches would pack a punch if he took me roughly.
I didn’t even think about it, just reacted—I rubbed my fingers between my legs, feeling the heat from my center start to filter through the denim.
Not forcing it, just exploring myself, with my other hand, I held the base of him before I started urging spit to gather around his shaft.
Following each vein with the tip of my tongue, I got him nice and wet then started sucking on the mushroom tip. He snarled under his breath, his fingers tightening around my hair for a split second before releasing me with what had to be a conscious effort.
As I familiarized myself with the flared tip, I started to rock back and forth against the tiny weeping slit there, already tasting his pre-cum and craving more of it.
“Fuck, Star, please,” he growled. “Stop fucking tormenting me.”
My lips curved at the plea, but the words lit me up inside. Gave me strength. I rubbed the area above my clit just for some friction, then I slowly started to take him inside my mouth.
With training came a loss of my gag reflex, something I intended to lose again seeing as it had been a long ass time since I’d sucked any prick’s dick. It satisfied me to work toward giving him that. To let him take advantage of a skill I’d never wanted to learn and had been forced to adjust to.
And how he bit off curses, groaning and grunting with every inch I managed to acclimate to, made it even more worthwhile, and my overachieving self was ever eager to please him.
