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“Feels good, darling,” he encouraged hoarsely. “Feels so . . . Oh my God !” The top of his head just about blew off when he felt the first tentative stroke of her tongue on him. She licked him delicately, like she would an ice cream cone, along the top, down the sides, then back up to the top. His hips jerked abruptly and uncontrollably before he tried his best to minimize his movements, not wanting to scare her off. His resolve lasted only as long as it took for her to add a little suction, and that was when he cried out, his eyes welling with tears of bliss and frustration. His hands curled into fists in her hair. His instinct was to thrust, but he knew he couldn’t. She needed to control the movement. But dear God, it was killing him. Until finally, miraculously, she found a rhythm.
“Oh . . . Jesus!” She increased her suction, took more of him, moving her lips up and down the hard shaft so damned sweetly that he nearly wept at the incredible sensations. But—“Daff, you’ve got to stop . . . Stop, darling, I can’t hold off for much longer.”
To his eternal regret, she lifted her mouth to look at him.
“Why?” she pouted. For the first time, he noticed that her other hand was between her thighs as she took her own pleasure while giving it to him. It made him so fucking happy that she was taking enjoyment from this act, which had seemed so distasteful to her before, that for a moment he lost his train of thought.
“Uh. Because, I’m going to come,” he finally remembered to reply, and as if on cue his cock throbbed in her hand, which was encircled around the base.
Daff frowned, confused by his words. Of course he was going to come—that was the point. She wanted him to come. It was such a turn-on having him in her mouth, feeling his helpless responses to her every touch and kiss.
Who knew?
“I want to taste you,” she said resolutely, her voice sounding embarrassingly sexy even to her, and before he could respond, she went back to her task and this time didn’t let up until he cried out hoarsely, the sound filled with a crazy mix of anguish and ecstasy, and came so copiously she could barely keep up.
She loved how, during his orgasm, which looked and felt mind-blowing, his grip on her head never tightened. He never took over the rhythm or shoved himself all the way to the back of her throat. He allowed her to decide how much she was willing to take and she adored that about him. Her regard shifted to his face; his eyes were screwed shut, his head thrown back, and the cords in his neck were strained. He looked beautiful, primal and fierce, and seeing him like that sent her over the edge. She lifted her mouth from his waning hardness and cried out as she came violently and powerfully. She went limp and was dimly aware of him dragging her trembling body up until she was cradled in his lap, his softening penis fitting snugly against her bottom.
He planted little kisses all over her face and claimed her mouth for a hot, deep, very thorough kiss. Another surprise. In her—admittedly crappy—experience, guys didn’t like to kiss her after she’d gone down on them.
“Thank you,” he whispered, sounding completely drained.
“No, thank you. That was such a turn-on.”
“Hmm?”
“Yes.”
“Why did you—” He didn’t complete the question, but she knew what he wanted to ask.
“Well, for starters, this movie blows. It’s boring as hell. So I found something more entertaining to do.” She heard the deep rumble of his chuckle beneath her ear and smiled. “I loved it. Now stop overanalyzing crap again. And you’d better get used to the bj’s, dude. Because the menu has changed and you’re now on it.”
He laughed outright at that.
“Cheesy, McGregor.”
“Give a girl a break, Carlisle. You’ve tired me out. My brain is on autopilot. And don’t change the channel—this movie is the perfect sleep aid.”
They went to bed early and, exhausted from their day of excessive sexual indulgences, they did nothing but sleep—naked and wrapped up in each other’s arms—all night long.
The following morning, Spencer cracked open an eye and groaned at the bright sunlight flooding the small bedroom. He flung an arm out, looking for Daff, wanting to introduce her to his morning wood, but she was nowhere to be found. He frowned and sat up. The room was empty.
Panicking for a moment, concerned that she was once again sporting a pair of cold feet, he flung the bedcovers aside and jumped out of bed, intent on finding her and kissing her doubts away. He was headed toward the bedroom door when it creaked open and Daff carefully shouldered her way in, clutching a breakfast tray in her hands. She looked startled to find him standing just on the other side of the door.
