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I was flying high, the combination of our pleasure and laughter so potent that I wondered how I was ever going to be professional around him again.
I probably wasn’t.
And I was okay with that.
CHAPTER21
BRODIE
Best. Handjob. Ever.
I’d fantasized about being with Van—a lot.
But the reality was so much better than even I could have imagined.
I used to scoff at people who claimed sex with someone you love was different. More intense.
I will admit—and only this time—that I was wrong. So fucking wrong.
Van’s kiss alone could sustain me.
I was shaking; he was shaking.
I glanced over my shoulder.
He slipped his hand out from under my kilt and raised it to his mouth, giving it an experimental lick. Then another. It was followed by the dirtiest groan I’d ever heard.
I was not prepared for that.
All the while, his denim blues were watching me, searing me with an intensity I’d never felt from anyone I’d been intimate with. Like he could see right inside me.
And fuck, just watching him taste my cum had more leaking from my half-hard dick.
I turned in his arms to face him, needing to see all of him.
“You taste delicious,” he murmured in a husky groan.
And I wasn’t prepared for that either.
He unzipped his jeans, delved his hand inside his black briefs, and moaned like a needy porn star. “I’m still hard even though I came in my jeans like a fucking twenty-year-old.”
Without hesitation, I dropped to my knees and reached for his briefs.
“Is this okay?” I asked as I looked up at him.
I was so fucked out after that orgasm that I forgot this was new to him. I needed to take things slow.
Instead of answering, he pushed his briefs and his jeans down to his thighs.
Okay, so maybe he was more than all right with moving on to another experience.
And, of course, Van had a gorgeous cock.
Thick, long, and with a perfect head covered in his slick cum.
Mine too.
He was rubbing his dick with our combined cum, and fuck, that was hot. He was still hard. I was getting hard again.
