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The sight made me salivate and my pussy ache.
I rolled my gaze up to his, pleading for permission to pull his shorts down. He groaned, and I took that as encouragement. His swollen head peeked over his waistband, then the rest of him stood at full attention with a subtle bounce. He was glorious. The prettiest cock I’d ever seen.
Every rumor I’d heard about Ezra having a piercing between his legs was right, but I’d had no idea he had more along the underside of his shaft. I couldn’t tell exactly how many yet, but I wanted to count them with my tongue.
He cupped the back of my head with one hand and fisted the base of himself with the other to guide the throbbing tip into my mouth. Salty, slick fluid coated my taste buds, and I hummed as the first, second, third, then fourth set of metal balls slid over my tongue. They massaged back and forth as I bobbed and sucked. I didn’t want to hurt him, but he had given me a safeword.
When I started moving my head with more vigor, sucking at the tip with each stroke, he moaned my name, which only built up the ego I already had. I knew I was good at this. I was proud of how quickly I could get a man off with my mouth. The technique had been honed by many men: not too much saliva, some light suction with the addition of friction closer to the tip. That was my surefire way of getting any man to come in a matter of minutes.
I didn’t want to chance Ezra getting off and not being able to fuck him properly. There was no way he was going to want me to stay the night, so the odds of a second round were slim if he was like most other men I’d been with.
“Oh fuck, Pru.” His lust-thick words stirred butterflies in my stomach.
I gave his head one last suck then licked each rung of his ladder slowly, playing with the seven bars with the tip of my tongue. His fingers weaved through my hair and pulled me away gently. When he dipped his face close to mine, our shared breath lit a fire in my chest. I couldn’t place the emotion in his captivating eyes, but something inside of me was telling me to run. Fast.
“You’re so good at that.” His throaty voice vibrated over my lips and all the way down to the throbbing between my legs.
The urge of self preservation in my chest didn’t ease completely, but his next two words made me forget every twinge of doubt I had. “Lie back.”
I did.
My dress, shoes, and reservations were lying on the floor somewhere between the bed and the front door. After settling into the plush duvet, I was on full display to him.
He stood at the edge of the bed, staring down at me and stroking himself slowly. My heart skipped a beat just from looking at him.
Ezra wasn’t just rock-star hot.
He was sex-god hot.
His dark, slick hair was tousled to the side from his fingers. Tattoos ran from his neck all the way down to his toes, each one beautiful, intricate, and crisp against the patches of skin peeking between them.
He was gorgeous, but it was more than that. He was magnetic. His voice, his attitude, the way he carried himself. He didn’t just play the role of a musician; he stood for a cause. His art had always been about standing up for the masses and turning his critique of our corrupt society into poetry he sang to stadiums. To thousands of screaming admirers.
But for tonight, he was all mine.
“You’re so beautiful.” The dark inflection of his voice skittered through my insides.
“I’m cold.” I was lying but the goose bumps over my skin wouldn’t give me away.
He gave me a wicked smile and crawled toward my body. His lips grazed the tender skin on my thighs, my stomach, my chest. A wanton noise broke over my tongue and earned me another heart-melting smile.
“Oh, baby.” He paused for a soft and slow kiss. “I am going to ruin you.”
Please do.
I’d never wanted something so desperately in my life. My hips shifted under him, begging for friction.
“Ezra,” I pleaded, another swarm of butterflies whirling inside my whole being.
His fingers framed my jaw, lifting my eyes to meet his. “Shh, just a little bit more.”
Torture. This man was torturing me.
His fingers trailed down my neck, through the valley of my breasts, and over the sensitive spots of my stomach to the needy heat between my legs.
“You’re so wet for me.” He spoke into my lips, making my breath hitch and my hips squirm.
He played slow circles over my throbbing clit and coaxed a moan. The higher the tension he built, the less patient I became. I wanted him to fill me up, to feel each piercing against my spasming walls.
