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I shake my head, moaning around him. His hips shoot off the couch, driving a little farther into me, a little faster. My fingers unwrap from the base of his dick, dipping below to cup his balls.
“Ames, holy shit. I’m going to come,” he warns me as he tries to yank me away from my mission.
“Mmm.” No. I dig the fingernails of my free hand into his thigh.
“Shit, baby. Your mouth feels incredible, but I need to be in you when I come.”
Does he really think that about my mouth? Pleasure at his words has me doubling my efforts, and I swirl my tongue around him like he’s the first ice cream cone of summer.
Glancing up at him from my position on the floor, I relish the way his eyes squeeze closed and a muscle in his jaw works furiously. My own arousal builds, and I want nothing more than to have him lose control because of me.
His eyes blaze open, and my core throbs at the fire raging there.
“Ames, last warning,” he grits out.
I squeeze his thigh in response, my mouth too preoccupied to answer.
His hips lift several more times before he stills, his orgasm overtaking him. Thick spurts of come coat my throat, but I keep working him until he relaxes against the couch.
Releasing him with a pop, I sit back, staring at him as I wait for his reaction.
I don’t have to wait long.
His hands tunnel under my arms to lift me to him at the same time he slams his mouth to mine, tongue ravaging my mouth.
“You taste like me,” he says with a groan against my jaw when he pulls back.
I glide my tongue along my lips slowly, savoring his taste, and his hands tighten against my hips.
“Is that a problem?” I ask.
He huffs a laugh. “I will never have a problem with you giving me a blow job, just so we’re clear.”
I giggle. “Good.”
His fingers tease along the waistband of my pants and intensify the achy throb in my core. I squirm against him, groaning as his erection rubs against the seam of my pants and gives me the friction I crave.
“Did that turn you on?” he asks.
I nod. “So much.”
His hand dips under my pants to trace the center of my panties. “You’re fucking soaked, Ames. Purely from sucking my cock.”
His finger teases the edge of my panties next to my thigh, the movement not enough to be anything more than a tease.
“Garrett,” I whine.
“Tell me what you want, Ames.”
This man has a fascination with words. It’s something I’ve learned over our almost week of true newly wedded bliss. Not that we weren’t newlyweds when we got married, but sleeping with him, learning his body the way I have? Having him learn my body just as well? There’s only one word for it—bliss.
“I want you to strip me. To get naked. To let me ride you.”
His eyes glitter with pride. He doesn’t say anything, but undresses first me and then himself before sinking back down on the couch. His cock stands straight up, reaching for me, and I squeeze my thighs together.
“Shit. Condom,” he says and shoots back up. “Be back in a minute.”
I put a hand to his chest, halting his departure. With slight pressure, I push until he falls back where he was. Lifting first one leg and then the other, I straddle him on my knees.
