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He ringed a hand around the base and held his cock out from his body, before quirking his lips in a half-smile. “I want you to focus on this one right now.” His tone was commanding. “Mine, and only mine.”
In response, a muscle low in belly tightened. I nodded, lowered in, and parted my lips over the head of his dick. Down I slid, taking him as far as I could.
A long, low sound of satisfaction rolled out of him, and it encouraged me to tighten my mouth and suck until my cheeks hollowed out. I tried not to think about anything, like how he was my brother’s best friend or how many times I’d imagined myself with him in the back seat of his car.
One of Preston’s hands was abruptly warm on the center of my back, but he didn’t put any force behind it. He wasn’t trying to guide me—his palm simply rested there. It was as if he wanted an extra connection with me through this gentle touch.
When I swirled my tongue around his tip, he pulsed.
God, it was so sexy.
And it was sexier still when he groaned appreciatively.
Up and down I bobbed, and he didn’t sit still for long. His hips began to buck, forcing the head of his dick to hit the back of my throat. The sensation was almost overwhelming, but his fingertips moved, tracing lines sensually up and down my spine, and I focused on that instead.
“Goddamn,” he murmured, “that feels good.”
Pleasure skittered across my skin.
My whole life, I’d been trained to please other people. To obey and be good. It had been drilled into me so hard, a small part of me worried that was the main reason I’d gravitated toward the culinary world. I hungered for praise.
His thrusts had started subtle, but there was purpose and urgency in them now. His breathing was ragged, louder than the rain outside, and I closed my eyes to listen better. Needy sighs crept in, and beneath me, the muscles of his thighs tightened.
His tone was wicked. “You like sucking that dick, don’t you?”
I moaned instantly in agreement, surprising myself. But it was the truth. I liked everything about this.
“I’m going to come in that pretty little mouth of yours,” he said. “And you’re going to swallow every last drop, aren’t you?”
Oh, my god.
His filthy mouth was shocking and exhilarating. Was it possible to have a full body blush? Because that was how I felt. Hot, and jittery, and like I was doing something I wasn’t supposed to, but it was too much fun to stop.
My jaw began to ache from how wide I had it held open, but I didn’t slow down. I kept up with his demanding pace, even as saliva pooled in the crevices of my mouth and began to drip down his shaft.
“Fuck, get ready,” he warned.
His thighs tensed into stone, and the hard muscle filling my mouth flexed at the same instant he let loose a deep groan. His labored breathing went erratic as he came, and the explosion of pleasure inside him must have been epic, because he shook violently. Pulse after pulse filled my mouth with hot, thick liquid, and I slowed to a stop, swallowing as quickly as I could.
His voice was breathless. “Good girl.”
I shuddered in satisfaction at his praise, and while he continued to recover, I drew back and looked at him. Never in a million years did I think I’d see him like this. Even as his breathing was slowing, his chest rose and fell rapidly, and his eyes studied me like I’d ambushed him, and he didn’t trust what he was seeing either.
Lightning flashed across the sky, followed by a sharp crack of thunder, making me flinch.
As my body began to cool, I became acutely aware I was still topless, and although I doubted it would happen, there was a chance someone could see. I reached for my bra and struggled into it, but he made no effort to pull up his pants.
Preston just sat there with his damp dick resting across his thigh, watching me.
“I guess the lesson’s over,” he said.
Confusion made me move slower as I tugged on my shirt. Was it not over? He didn’t seem like the kind of guy who wanted to snuggle after fooling around, but at the same time, I didn’t know him all that well.
“Uh—” I started.
“We didn’t decide how many lessons.” He grabbed the sides of his undone pants and jerked them up. It was mesmerizing watching the tendons in his forearms flex as he zipped up his fly and did the button. “The last thing you said was ten, but that’s . . . too many. I think three more should do it.”
Was he serious? “Three more isn’t going to be enough.” I lifted my chin and tried to sound firm. “Six.”
