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“Don’t stop. Don’t stop. Never stop,” she chanted, moving her hips in time with every thrust of his tongue. Her hands fell away from her breasts to yank a couple of fistfuls of his hair; she knew it had to be painful, but she was barely aware of how rough she was being. Focused only on what he was doing with his mouth. Her thighs clamped over his ears, but that barely seemed to faze him, as he never lost pace. She was close. Very, very close. She felt herself melting all over his tongue as he took her higher and higher and higher.
Falling was inevitable. But she didn’t care . . . she needed to fall. She wanted to fall. It was her destiny to fall. Hard.
His tongue plunged into her one last time before he dragged it all the way out and latched onto her clit and suckled her. It was the push she needed, and she went tumbling. End over end. Falling from such a great height was dizzying and disorienting and truly amazing. And totally terrifying.
She was crying again. It was getting embarrassing, this crying after non-sex. What was going to happen when they actually did the deed? Was she going to drown the man in her tears? He didn’t seem to mind. He was holding her again, somehow wedging her between the back of the sofa and his massive bulk. Good thing he had man-size furniture, or the thing would never have accommodated them both. It was an inane thought, but it kept her from facing what a wreck this man was making of her.
“Better?” he asked a few long moments later, after her tears had finally dried up. She nodded and buried her face in his hard chest. She wriggled closer and felt his hard penis throbbing against her stomach. So big and hot, it was hard to ignore.
“That can’t be very comfortable,” she observed, and he shrugged.
“I’m a big boy, I can handle it.”
“Yes, you are,” she agreed pertly, stroking her hand over that impressive length so there’d be no misunderstanding her meaning. “But I’d rather be the one to handle it for you.”
He groaned when she slipped her hand under his waistband and wrapped her fingers around that hard, thick length.
“You don’t have to.” He didn’t sound very convincing, and she chuckled.
“I know, and that’s why I want to.” She felt his body ripple at the words and knew that she had scored a direct hit with that one.
“Not right now.” His voice sounded beyond strained, and she rolled her eyes.
“I don’t know why you’re denying yourself. I’m right here. Ready, willing, and able to give you the best damned head you’ve ever had in your life.”
Spencer couldn’t think straight while she had her hand wrapped around him like this. But something felt . . . off, somehow. Like, what the fuck was up with that weird moment earlier? Why would she invite him to fucking strangle her? She had looked terrified and resigned at the same time, so she wasn’t into it. So why the hell would she assume that Spencer was into erotic asphyxiation, for fuck’s sake? It was bizarre. He would love a few minutes in a dark alley with whoever the hell had fucked her up so badly.
Spencer definitely enjoyed Daff more when she was wild with desire and couldn’t control her responses to him. The second she regained her senses, everything she said or did felt practiced. Like she was going through some kind of sexual playbook. He liked that she was experienced, and he definitely enjoyed confidence in a woman. But this didn’t feel confident, it felt rehearsed, and while his cock was more than ready to go, his heart and mind were throwing up huge red flags. He wanted Daff, the real Daff, not whoever this woman with the plastered-on smile was. If he consented to this, it would feel like he was using her, and he wanted her to enjoy everything they did together. He didn’t want her to feel uncomfortable or degraded.
“I have a different idea,” he said, his voice hoarse with strain. “Why don’t we take a shower and watch a movie?”
She gaped at him, her mouth literally falling open as she gawked at him in utter disbelief.
“I don’t understand,” she said, her brow furrowing. “Don’t you want me?”
Oh hell.
“You know the answer to that,” he said gently, pointedly thrusting in her grip and then cursing out loud as the sensation nearly undid him.
“Then why?”
He sighed and sat up, grateful when her fingers loosened around his penis. She withdrew her hand completely and sat up as well, folding her hands in her lap and staring up at him beneath that tumble of gorgeous brown hair. She looked confused and hurt and verging on pissed off. And he couldn’t blame her for any of those things.
