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I blame the two heavy pours of wine I had at dinner for that coming out of my mouth.
At least I have Kyle’s full attention now.
“You do, huh?”
I lift one shoulder, feeling the fabric of my shirt slip precariously as I let it fall. Kyle tracks the movement as he takes a step closer.
I shove his chest gently, pushing him in the direction of the bed. Kyle’s eyes snap to mine, all the amusement disappearing from them.
I step between his legs as soon as he sits on the edge of the mattress, tipping his head back to maintain eye contact as I run my hands up his arms, over his shoulders, and into his hair. His Adam’s apple bobs with a swallow as the silence between us seems to thicken, everything we’re not saying colliding with what we’re about to do.
His calloused hands creep up my thighs, tugging me closer to him. Until I’m in his lap, straddling him, biting my bottom lip when I feel the hard ridge of his erection.
I want this to happen.
Badly.
But I’m also aware this will possibly be the last time. Kyle is here because of tragic, extenuating circumstances that he has a personal connection to. He didn’t come to New York for me.
I pull away, catching the disappointment in his expression until it shutters to neutral. Then the blaze of heat when he realizes why I slipped off his lap and am down on my knees, working at his belt.
I’m too impatient to pull his pants down far enough. They’re past the bottom of his boxer briefs. I’m too eager to touch him. Taste him.
I’m also nervous. I’ve never had any complaints, but I’m sure Kyle has gotten a lot of blow jobs. I want this one to be the best.
The cotton of his underwear is easier to pull than the denim. His cock springs free, just as huge as I remember. Maybe bigger from this angle. The last time we were intimate was in a dim alleyway behind a bar. The lighting in my room is much better.
I fist the base, my grip light as I move my hand toward the tip. I lean forward, licking a circle around the flared head.
Kyle groans loudly enough that my roommates would hear if either of them were home.
His hips jerk forward as I move away, asking for my mouth. His jeans restrict his movement, so he tugs at them until they fall on the fluffy rug. His boxer briefs follow.
I run my hands up his bare thighs, the light hair tickling my palms. His skin is hot, muscles flexing under my touch as I get closer to his cock.
There’s a distant scream of a siren, but my room is so quiet that I can hear the shift in his breathing. It goes from shallow to rapid when I take the first suck, hollowing my cheeks and breathing through my nose so I can take him as deep as possible. The head bumps against the back of my throat, and he’s still not all the way in.
Kyle doesn’t thrust, giving me time to adjust. His fingers thread through my hair, tugging gently.
I moan around his dick, a persistent pulse fluttering between my legs as I swirl my tongue.
“Fuck, Piper.”
I dig my nails into his thighs, bobbing my head to take him again. I taste the salty tang as he gets closer to coming.
Suddenly, he pushes me back and stands.
“Bend over, baby.”
There’s a rough, unhinged tone to his voice that has me quickly complying. That promises the rough, dirty sex I’m craving.
I can’t see him very well with my face half-pressed to the mattress. But I feel the rasp of denim as he tugs off the pants I changed into for dinner. Hear the rip of my thong as he yanks at it impatiently and the crinkle of a wrapper as he covers himself.
And then he’s pushing inside of me, the sudden stretch so satisfying that I want to scream. He’s so deep, his hips pounding against mine as he fills me. I push back against him, moaning and begging. Chanting his name.
Who knows what gibberish is coming out of my mouth? I just want him to keep going.
We’re racing along at a hundred miles an hour, the pleasure growing inside of me like a fire repeatedly getting doused by gasoline. I start to spasm around him, and I know Kyle feels it too.
