My balls clench tighter, as if I could blow at any second.
With my other hand, I reach for the front of her jeans, undoing the snap with fumbling fingers, lowering the zipper. I dive my hand into her open jeans, my fingers encountering silky material, and I press my fingers against her pussy, the material already wet.
Just as she said it would be.
“Oh my God,” she whispers when I cup her fully, my fingers pressing hard. “That shouldn’t feel so good.”
“You like that, Birdy?” I stroke her up and down, using the friction of her panties to help get her off.
She nods, a helpless whimper leaving her, and I can’t stand it any longer.
Removing my hand from her panties, I crowd her, pushing her with my body to the bed, so her ass falls heavily onto the edge. She glances up at me, her eyes wide and unblinking as she reaches for me, sliding her hand up and down the front of my boxer briefs. I thrust my hips, pressing my cock into her palm, so she knows I like that.
“Tell me what to do next,” she whispers.
“Pull me out,” I demand and her eyes flare with heat.
Wren removes her hand from the front of my boxers, so she can pull them down, slowly but surely. Until my cock springs free, bobbing directly in front of her face.
Her mouth.
She lifts her gaze to mine, once again, before she returns her attention to my eager dick. She wraps her fingers around the base, her touch gentle, her gaze curious as she studies me. Her brows lower in concentration when she squeezes me tight, and I hiss in a breath, my stomach muscles contracting.
“You like that?”
“Tighter,” I grit out, and she holds me tighter, her thumb running along the distended vein, exploring. Like my cock is a fucking science experiment.
“Doesn’t that hurt?”
I shake my head. “Feels good.”
She squeezes me from root to tip, a clear drop of pre-cum forming, and she stares at it in fascination. Then she does the craziest fucking thing.
Brushing her hair back, she leans in and drops a kiss on the very tip of my dick.
“Fuck,” I groan, wishing I could grab hold of her hair with both of my hands and force her to suck my cock. But that would most likely scare the crap out of her and I can’t do that.
“Tell me what to do next,” she encourages, her fingers slowly sliding up and down my cock. “I could give you a—hand job.”
I could tell it took a lot for her to say that, my sweet, innocent Wren. She’s not used to asking for what she wants, and my goal is to make sure she feels comfortable with me. That I won’t judge her.
I’ll give her whatever she wants.
Taking a deep breath, I tell her, “I’d rather have a blow job.”
That mouth of hers would look so damn good wrapped around my dick.
“I’ll mess it up.”
“You could never.” I close my eyes and tilt my head back, wanting to laugh at myself for standing in the middle of the room without a stitch of clothing on, save my socks. My girl sitting on the bed, arguing about giving me a blow job while she jacks my cock as if she owns it.
What the hell is happening to me right now, thinking of her as my girl. And why am I enjoying it so much?
“Oh, I could,” she says, sounding amused. “I didn’t expect it to be so veiny.”
“Wren.” Her name comes out of me as a groan, and when I glance down, I see she’s watching me, her fingers still around the base of my cock. “Whatever you want to do, just do it.”
“You want me to stroke you faster?” She does exactly that, her fingers sliding up and down, keeping a steady pace. Like I have no control of my body, my hips start to move with her and I’m basically fucking her hand.
I can’t speak. It’s been weeks of buildup. Years, really. Of wanting Wren like this. Dying for her to touch me. And now that she is, I can barely stand it. This girl is about to make me lose all control, something a Lancaster never does.
My father beat that into my head from a young age. So did my brothers. We have the upper hand. Always. Never let anyone get by you.
This girl? The sweet, beautiful girl with the mouth made for sin has totally slipped by my defenses, and I let her. Hell, I practically begged her to do it.
And I don’t care.
I’d do it all over again—for her.
She leans forward, her mouth on the tip of my cock again, and slowly, she envelops it with her lips, pulling it just inside her mouth.
Holy fuck.
She trains those big eyes on me and I grab hold of my cock, her fingers falling away, her mouth staying on me. I stroke myself into a frenzy, my body coated in sweat, my chest aching from how hard I’m breathing. I can’t look away from her, and when she pulls slightly away, her tongue coming out for an exaggerated lick, I feel the need to warn her.
“I’m going to come.”
The warning goes right over her head as she continues to lick the flared head of my cock, her tongue tracing every curve. That familiar feeling starts at the base of my spine, spreading everywhere, my skin electrified, and I know without a doubt I’m going to come.
All over her pretty face if she doesn’t watch it.
“Wren,” I bite out.
She doesn’t move.
I warned her twice.
“Fuck,” I groan as my orgasm barrels down. All the air leaves my lungs and I choke out a strangled sound, that first spurt of cum hitting her on the cheek.
She jerks away from my cock, her eyes full of surprise as I keep coming, my body shuddering, completely overcome. I squeeze my shaft, just beneath the head, and one last drop falls before I’m spent.
The room is silent, only the sound of our heavy breaths in the air. I lost complete control, something I never do with a girl. I made a fucking mess. Of myself and Wren and the bed.
She touches her cheek, her fingers coming away cum-covered, and I nearly lose it when she brings them to her mouth and gives them a lick.
I don’t know if I’ll survive the weekend, let alone the night if she keeps this up.
THIRTY-SEVEN
WREN
We clean ourselves up and put our clothes back on before we order room service. The moment we shared still hangs heavily in my mind, though we haven’t really talked about it. And I have no idea how to approach the conversation so…
I don’t bring it up.
Can’t stop thinking about it, though. He seemed to lose all control earlier. He actually came on my face, which I think is an actual thing, from what I remember seeing on that one porn site the night I explored its category menu.
I didn’t mind, though it was shocking when it happened. I’m so curious about everything. All of it. It’s interesting, how internalized a woman’s orgasm is for the most part, while a man’s is incredibly obvious. To the point of exploding everywhere.
Literally.
Crew is so incredibly patient with me, and while my body is still aching for something only he can fulfill, I’m okay with waiting. I know more will happen between us. Tonight. Tomorrow.
Besides, I’m hungry.
Our food arrives relatively fast and we eat it in the living room, both of us sitting on the floor in front of the coffee table, our backs leaning against the couch as we stuff our faces. We both got cheeseburgers, fries and Cokes, and I could tell Crew was pleased I didn’t order a salad.
Probably only because he wouldn’t have to share his meal with me again, like last time.
The fries are delicious and I keep dragging them in the puddle of ketchup on my plate, a little moan leaving me with every bite. Eventually I realize Crew has stopped eating and is watching me, his eyes slightly glazed over, his lips parted.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, my mouth kind of full, which is totally rude. I swallow it down, then wipe my mouth with a napkin.
“You’re so fucking sexy when you eat, Birdy. I can’t take it.” He leans in and grips the back of my head, pulling me in for a quick kiss. “I feel like everything you do is sexy as fuck.”