Me: I tried in the shower the day I got home. It wasn’t as good as our shower.
Me: I tried the next night when I was alone in bed. A bottle of lube and my hand is a sad substitution for your mouth.
Me: I tried again when I got home from the grocery store yesterday. Your lips were on the cover of three magazines. It was torture.
Me: And I’ll probably try tonight because I wouldn’t want to embarrass myself when you show up at my house tomorrow.
His response was immediate.
Henry: So you ARE flirting with me.
I was. Goddammit. I fucking was. I had absolutely no control over it, either. The only thing I could do was remind myself of what this was. And all it could ever be.
Me: Casually, of course. I’ll have the tic-tac-toe board ready.
“Shit. Fuck. Oh my…” My ass was on the couch and Henry was kneeling between my legs. He’d arrived five minutes earlier and this was as far as we’d made it.
No sooner had the door closed than his mouth had landed on mine. And it was just as intoxicating as I remembered. We’d blindly banged against walls and the coffee table before finding the couch. He’d then shoved me down and tossed a piece of paper I vaguely tagged as his STD test results, and then he was on his knees, sucking my length into the back of his throat.
I’d been nervous when I’d heard his car pull up. It hadn’t felt casual at all. It felt like a first date. And, given the opportunity, I probably would have gone all teenage boy and asked if he wanted to watch a movie until I worked up the courage to cop a feel.
This was definitely better. My head couldn’t get muddled when he kept it right where it belonged—in his mouth.
My pants hadn’t even been pushed down. He’d simply popped the button, lowered the zipper, and tugged my cock out. He was still fully dressed, and it was driving me mad. Well, that and the velvet of his tongue as he swirled it around my tip.
“Henry, wait.”
He bottomed out, his lips meeting my root.
“Shit. Fuck. Oh my…”
He glided up and popped me from his mouth. “You already said that, Evan.”
Evan.
I shit you not, my balls drew up in response.
Making a fist in his hair, I roughly dragged him up until his mouth met mine. “Don’t be a smartass while I’m fucking your mouth,” I mumbled between kisses.
His tongue rolled greedily and his denim-covered cock ground against my stomach as he rocked against me. “Actually, I was fucking you with my mouth. Big difference.”
I trailed my hand up his throat, then gripped his chin to halt his frenzied lips. “You want me to fuck your mouth?”
His pupils dilated with arousal.
I swiped my thumb over his bottom lip and then dipped it between his teeth. There was no hesitation as he began sucking it with gentle pulls that shot directly to my groin.
“It that a yes?” I asked impatiently.
With a simple nod, his flames consumed me once again.
We rushed to the bedroom and stripped ourselves naked, and then I positioned him face up with his head hanging over the edge of my bed. Henry looped an arm around one of my thighs and lifted it until my knee settled by his head. With a tip of his chin to his chest, I gloriously slipped to the back of this throat on a loud curse.
He was a fucking magician. Because never had anyone—woman or man—been able to suck me so deep.
I started to withdraw, but he gripped my bare ass and pulled me back down. His face was hidden between my legs, and I feared I was going to suffocate him, so I allowed his hands to guide my rhythm.
Resting my palms on his chest, I balanced myself and began drilling into his hot mouth. I stared down at Henry’s chiseled, naked body. He had been gorgeous before. But, with his mouth wide as I drove into it, he was unbelievable. Every so often, he gripped my ass, cueing me to switch to shallow glides in order for him to catch his breath. During those moments, he’d tease my head until he was ready again. The sensations were overwhelming, and combined with the visuals of his long, hard cock slapping his stomach with every thrust, I was already teetering on the edge of release.
I very easily could have bent over and sucked him off too, turning our seven into a sixty-nine. But that would have required me to give him a piece of myself. Allowing him the control over me that I refused to ever hand over again. And, given just how much Henry had already thrown me off-kilter, it wasn’t a risk I could afford to take. I’d broken nearly every rule I’d made to protect myself from situations like this. I couldn’t shred the only two I had left and take him inside me. No matter how much my mouth watered to taste him. To feel him in the back of my throat. To return to him the ecstasy he was freely giving me.
No. I couldn’t do that.