“Fuck,” I mutter, eyes pinched shut, pulling on her hair. “Don’t fucking stop.”
She pulls her mouth off, a wet sucking sound, and I think for a terrible moment that she is stopping, and every part of me tenses in frustration. Then her hand comes down over my cock, sliding like silk, pulling back to the base until I think my head might explode. I jerk my hips up, craving release.
But she has more planned. She lowers her head and slowly, gently takes my balls into her mouth, while stroking me off with her hand.
Jesus. Thank you. Thank you. Rare is the woman who will suck on your balls like candy. I wonder if I can smuggle Kayla back in my carry-on. She’s small enough.
I don’t want to come though. I lift my head, trying to speak. My throat is so dry, my thoughts scrambled. Everything is being redirected to primal instinct, the drive to come and come as hard as I can, and it doesn’t help that I have this shadowy view of her head between my legs, tongue and lips sucking my thin skin until I don’t know my own name.
“I want to be inside you,” I manage to say, my tongue feeling heavy.
She shakes her head, the vibrations driving me mad. I grip her hair tighter. I want her to stop and I don’t at the same time, but she’s the one in control.
“Kayla,” I say, before I moan as another wave of pleasure robs me of speech.
She just pumps her fist harder, and I know I’m a goner.
It sneaks up on me, like someone tackling you from behind. I’m thrown into metaphysical space, my balls emptying, shooting my load somewhere, who knows. It doesn’t matter because I’ve gone off like a detonation, light bursting behind my eyes, and the groans out of my throat are loud, hoarse, and deafening.
It takes a few moments for me to catch my breath, for my heart rate to stop galloping like an animal on the run. My thoughts won’t gather; I can only lie here while Kayla extracts herself and lies down next to me, her head propped up on her hand, her fingers tracing the tattoos on my chest.
“Hey,” she says.
I clear my throat. “Hello.” Even so, my voice is rough like sandpaper. “That was…”
“I know,” she says, completely confident in the many ways she just undid me. “It was the least I could do for three orgasms last night.”
I lick my parched lips and tilt my head to stare at her in the dimness. Her eyes are so wet and dark, and I know I have a bad habit of staring into them for too long, but I can’t help it.
I reach over and take a strand of her hair between my fingers and gently brush it off her face. There’s something about her that makes me tender from time to time. She tries her hardest not to show it, but I can see it, how vulnerable she is deep down. How badly she fights to cover it up with brevity and cynicism, but I know it’s there. It brings out my ever-present protectiveness.
“I guess you should be going soon,” she says softly.
I’m taken aback. Like a dog, my hackles go up. “Okay…”
She curls her hand around the back of my neck and leans in closer. “I don’t want you to go. But you do have two dogs at your apartment and I have to get up for work soon.”
I nod. Right. The dogs. She’s right. I’d never planned on staying the night, it just happened that way. Coming inside her was like taking a massive sleeping pill, and the fact that I just came again—all over my stomach—means I’m apt to fall right back asleep.
“Do you have a towel or tissue paper?” I ask her, nodding at my stomach, at the cum that glistens in a pool. I’m lucky I didn’t get it in my eye.
She gets out of bed, her sleek, curvy body like a woman’s silhouette in a spy film. She tosses me a tissue box from her bookshelf and I quickly mop up the mess.