“Yes,” he hissed, the fingers of his right hand tangling in my hair. “Suck it hard and fast; I want to come.”
I breathed in the scent of him, feeling the satiny softness of his heated flesh on my tongue. Then I took him at his word.
Hollowing my cheeks, I took him to the back of my throat, then pulled up to the crown. Over and over. Focusing on suction and speed, as greedy for his orgasm as he was, spurred by the abandoned sounds he made and the sight of his fingers clawing restlessly at the comforter. His hips churned, his hand in my hair guiding my pace.
“Ah, God.” He watched me with dark, hot eyes. “I love the way you suck me off. Like you can’t get enough.”
I couldn’t. I didn’t think I ever could. His pleasure meant so much to me, because it was real and raw. For him, sex had always been staged and methodical. He couldn’t hold back with me because he wanted me beyond reason. Two days without me and he was . . . undone.
I pumped him with my fist, feeling the thick veins throbbing beneath the smooth skin. A ragged sound tore from his throat and salty warmth spurted on my tongue. He was close, his face flushed and his lips parted with gasping breaths. Sweat misted my brow. My excitement mounted along with his. He was completely at my mercy, near mindless with the need to climax, muttering filthy sexy things about what he was going to do to me the next time he fucked me.
“That’s it, angel. Milk it . . . make me come for you.” His neck arched, his breath exploding from his lungs. “Fuck.”
He came as I had—hard and brutal. Semen burst from the tip of his cock in a thick, hot rush that I struggled to swallow. He growled my name, his hips pumping upward into my working mouth, taking what he needed from me, giving me all he had until he was emptied.
Then he curled toward me, pulling me into a strangling embrace that pinned me to his heaving chest. For long moments, he just held me. I listened as his raging heartbeat slowed and his breathing returned to normal.
Finally, he spoke with his lips in my hair. “Needed that. Thank you.”
I smiled and snuggled into him. “My pleasure, ace.”
“I missed you,” he said softly, his lips pressing to my brow. “So damn much. And not just for this.”
“I know.” We needed this—the physical closeness, the frenzied touching, the rush of orgasm—to release some of the wild, overwhelming emotions that affected us when we were together. “My dad’s coming out to visit next week.”
He stilled. Lifting his head, he looked at me wryly. “You have to tell me that while my dick’s still hanging out?”
I laughed. “Caught you with your pants down?”
“Hell.” He pressed his lips to my forehead, then rolled to his back and righted his clothes. “You have an idea of how you want the first meeting to go? Dinner out or in? Your place or mine?”
“I’ll cook at my place.” I stretched, then tugged the wrinkles out of my shirt.
He nodded, but his vibe changed. My sated, grateful lover of a moment before was replaced by the grim-faced man who’d been around more frequently lately.
“Would you prefer something different?” I asked.
“No. It’s a good plan and what I would’ve suggested. He’ll feel comfortable there.”
“Will you?”
“Yes.” He propped his head in one hand and looked down at me, brushing my hair back from my forehead. “I’d rather not hit him in the face with my money if we can help it.”
I took a deep breath. “I hadn’t considered that. I just thought I’d be less anxious about making a mess in my own kitchen than in yours. But you’re right. It’ll be okay, though, Gideon. Once he sees how you feel about me, he’ll be good with us being together.”
“I only care what he thinks if it affects how you feel. If he doesn’t like me and that changes something between us—”