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“Shit.” Dalton shifts in the armchair, and he’s already slumped back against the cushions, his cheeks pink. I always pictured him like this, you know. I figured he’d be a blusher, and that he’d go all boneless with pleasure. “Are you…?”
“If you want me to.” I tug his zipper down.
He snorts. “If I ever say no to that, go ahead and bury me in the flowerbed. That means I’m done. That means—holyshit, that feels good. Yeah, grip me tighter.”
I adjust my hold, reveling at the heft of him. The heat and hardness and girth.
“Amazing.” His shaft is hot and heavy, the skin sliding like silk beneath my palm as I lump him, and my cheeks ache, I’m smiling so hard. I’m so happy right now, I could float up to the ceiling. “You can play guitar, talk crapandget a blow job all at once. The ultimate multitasker.”
Dalton’s laugh is winded. He slumps an inch lower in the armchair, hips chasing my touch. “Now, I’m no expert, but I’m pretty sure blow jobs mean mouths.”
I pinch his leg, then lean forward and lick the tip. It’s salty.
A guitar string twangs. “Alba,” he says.
My cheeks hollow as draw him inside and suckle. My jaw cracks, because Dalton is not a small man, and the heft of him on my tongue, the stuffed-full feeling, his clean, masculine scent—it’s bliss. He’s the best lollipop in the world.
“This is fun,” I rasp when I pull away with a pop. My hand works his length, already shiny with spit. “What took us so long?” I swirl my tongue around the head, teasing.
Dalton tuts, and he stops playing guitar just long enough to nudge my head back down. “Don’t talk with your mouth full, Alba.”
My giggles are muffled by his cock.
And as I kneel, head bobbing, before my lifelong crush, the man who knows me down to my soul… Iknewit would be like this. Hot and playful and bossy and sweet. I knew he’d smell freaking amazing, like a pheromone cocktail designed just for me, because I used to sniff his pillow when he wasn’t looking. I knew his low grunts, his twitching hips, and his swollen shaft on my tongue would chase away every ounce of doubt.
This was worth waiting for.He’sworth waiting for.
I waited eight years for a love like this, and I’d wait eight more.
And maybe the rest of the world gets a piece of him too, maybe Dalton has hordes of screaming fans who love him beyond all reason, but no one else getsthis.
“A virgin rock star,” I say, sitting back on my heels when I finally need to breathe. He gives a lazy smile, his eyes heavy lidded, and hisses as I squeeze his shaft, wrist twisting.
“We’re a rare breed,” he agrees.
“About to be an endangered species.”
The guitar thumps against the floor, wood echoing alongside his delighted laugh. Dalton takes my elbows. “Get up here.”
Six
Dalton
The last twenty four hours has just about killed me, and the second glimpse of Alba’s bikini might finish me off. She tugs her sundress over her head and tosses it at the rug, and she’s so casual about it. Like she’s not giving me an embolism.
Those curves.
Thatbody.
Those little scraps of red fabric tease me,tauntme, clinging to all the places I most want to devour. Alba reaches behind her neck for the bikini string.
“No,” I say. “Leave it on. Leave both parts on.” Her raised eyebrow heats my cheeks, but there’s no room for shame between us. Not anymore. “Do you remember that time we went swimming in the river, the spring before I left? And you wore this bikini?”
Alba wrinkles her nose, pausing on the rug as she casts her mind back.
“I don’t remember,” she confesses at last. “We went swimming a lot, Dalton.”
“Yes, but you’d never worn a bikini before. I hope you knew CPR, or that was gross negligence on your part. I nearly drowned.”
