His eyes nearly came out of his head.
Before he could answer, I moved a little
closer and put my wet fingertip between
his legs, brushing over a sensitive spot,
then sliding it back a little to test him.
Would he let me? I wasn’t sure how far I
should go—this was something I’d
thought about but never done before. I’d
never felt close enough to anyone to try
it. But I wanted to with Quinn, wanted to
see what it would do to him, wanted to
experience that sense of power inherent
in penetrating someone, getting inside
him. What was that like?
“Yes,” he hissed through clenched
teeth. “Oh my fucking God, yes.”
Slowly and carefully, I pushed in
deeper, delighted by the way it made him
moan and curse, shocked at the tight, hot
grip around my finger. With my other
hand, I rubbed my clit, bringing both of
us that much closer.
“Fuck. I’m gonna come,” he
growled, barely able to speak. “So
hard…”
“Right here,” I whispered, moving
my other hand to my breasts.
With a strangled moan, he angled his
dick toward my chest. His fist tightened
and slowed, and I watched as he came
on my tits in quick, hot bursts, his ass
clenching my fingertip. I couldn’t move,
couldn’t talk, couldn’t take my eyes off
him. It was the hottest thing I’d ever
seen.
When it was over, I fell back onto
my hands and sat on the floor, panting as
hard as if the orgasm had been mine.
He dropped to his knees, pushed my
legs apart and lowered his head between
my thighs. Propping myself on my
elbows, I watched him devour me like I
was covered in Chocolate Cartier.
He dipped his tongue inside, licking
upward in short, tantalizing strokes. “So
sweet,” he murmured. “How can such a
wicked little girl taste so sweet?”
I’d been close to orgasm before, and
as he swirled his tongue over my clit, I
found myself right back at the edge, my
lower body humming with pleasure, my
breath coming fast, my knees opening
wider.
He slid a hand up my stomach to my
chest, which was dripping with his cum.
Stretching his fingers, he smeared it all
over my breasts while sucking my clit
into his mouth. The sight of it sent me
barreling over the edge, the orgasm
tearing me to pieces like he said he
would. I cried out repeatedly as all the
tension inside me eased in blissful beats
against his tongue.
“Enough, enough,” I panted when the
sensitivity grew too much to bear.
“Stop.”
He got to his knees and looked down
at me. Without a word, he took the hand
from my chest and rubbed two fingers
over my lips. I opened my mouth and
licked them, sucked the salty sweetness
off the tips, eyes locked on his.
The moment was so intense, it
frightened me. In the silence I heard
myself speaking words I didn’t want to
say, feeling things I didn’t want to feel. I
was on the hard kitchen floor, but it
didn’t feel solid beneath me. It was
splintering, breaking apart piece by
piece—I had to get up soon or I’d fall
through it.
“Wow,” I forced myself to say. “I’m
a mess.”
Quinn made a noise between a groan
and a laugh. “It’s so fucking hot. Do we
have to clean you up?”
“Yes, we do.” I sat up all the way
and looked down at my chest. “Or,
rather, I do.”
“Let me do it.” Quinn popped to his
feet, turned on the faucet, and started
opening drawers. “Where are your
towels?”
“They’re in the third drawer down,
but I think I might just get in the shower
and rinse off.”
“Oh. OK.” He turned off the water
and gave me a hand getting to my feet.
“Sorry. I guess I did make a bit of a
mess.”
“Hey.” I didn’t want him to feel bad.
“I asked for the mess, and I loved every
second of it. It was my idea.”
“You did ask for it. That surprised
me.”
“Really? After all the stuff we’ve
done?”
“Well, yeah. That’s like a personal
thing, jerking off. Not usually done in the
company of others. In fact, never, for
me.”
“No?”
He shrugged. “No. If there was a girl
around, why would I? And no girl ever
asked.”
“
Finally
, I’m first at something with
you.” I pumped a fist in the air as I
repeated his words from earlier tonight.
He laughed. “And what about you?
Ever asked anyone to do that to you
before?”
“Nope. Never even thought about it.”
“Yes! Another first. I feel like a
god.”
I giggled. “I can give you a third one
if you want.”
“Anal?” he asked hopefully.
“Uh, we’ll talk. But no, I was
actually thinking of inviting you into the
shower with me.” A shower was OK,
right? It was personal but not
too
too
personal. It wasn’t like doing it without
a condom or sleeping over or peeing
while he was in the bathroom.
“You’re inviting me into your
shower?” He put a hand on his chest.
“My God! This means you believe in
love now, doesn’t it! I finally did it! And
all I had to do was fuck my hand and
shoot my load on your chest. How did I
not think of it sooner?”
I shook my head and started walking
away. “You’re insane. And I don’t like
insane people in my shower, so I’m
taking back my invite.”
“No way.” He followed me through
my bedroom and into the bath. “You’re
stuck with me, sweet pea. Face it.”
After turning on the light and
blinking at the sudden brightness, I
opened the sliding shower door and
turned on the water. “Stuck with you,
huh?” Facing him again, I pretended to
look him over from head to toe. God, I
was so lucky. Tonight was
perfect
. “I
suppose there are worse things.”
TWENTY-ONE
QUINN
I MIGHT NOT HAVE a lot of talents,
but I can get hard again pretty quickly
after an orgasm. It’s not something you
can pay the bills with (unless you’re
Logan O’Toole, but that’s a different
story), and it really only comes in handy
in very specific circumstances, but I’m
kind of proud of it.
That said, I didn’t want to fuck Jaime
in the shower.
OK, that’s a lie—I
wanted
to, but I
told myself I wouldn’t.
I had a good reason.
Jaime could make anything about
sex. This wasn’t only because she was
the sexiest woman I’d ever known
without even trying, but because she felt
comfortable with sex. It was safe ground
for her.
I wanted new ground.
It had been a month since we’d been
dating, and I was crazy about her. I
couldn’t
say
that to her of course,
because it would probably make her
rock back and forth in agony, but the
more time I spent with her, both in and
out of bed, the more convinced I was
that she and I had something special. I’d
never had as much fun with anyone—she
made me laugh at myself and let me
laugh at her. I got such a kick out of
listening to her tell me all the random
stuff she knew—she was so curious
about the stories behind things and
people. Maybe it’s what made her go
into advertising.
“Did you know Faygo red pop was
created by Russian bakers who used
their frosting recipe to create a new
drink?”
“Did you know the Disney
princesses don’t look at each other when
they’re grouped together to preserve
their individual mythologies?”
“Did you know that in New York,
they call Coney Islands Michigan hot
dogs?”
She listened when I needed to talk,
too. I felt like she understood me.
And I understood her—I couldn’t
rush her.
She hadn’t said as much (surprise,
surprise), but I had the feeling she felt
more for me than she usually felt for men
she dated or men she just slept with.
What she’d said tonight sort of
confirmed it—in the past, she hadn’t
allowed great sex to inspire feelings,
and she’d never allowed herself to
develop feelings where there was great
sex. We had both, but where she was
comfortable expressing her sexuality,
she was totally
un
comfortable
expressing her feelings, so she used one
to do the other.
I wanted to encourage her to let her
feelings show in ways that didn’t
involve an orgasm. I didn’t need words
necessarily, but this was nice—she was
letting me into her personal space after
sex, inviting me to stay a little longer
with her. I wanted to show her that I
liked it, not because it would lead to
more sex, but because it made me feel
closer to her. I wanted her to like feeling
closer to me, and more importantly, to be
OK with it.
So I washed her hair (I’d, um,
sullied it a bit), soaped her body, and
rinsed her off while ignoring my dick,
which was not in favor of the no-
shower-sex plan. In fact, he was
firmly
against it and showed his displeasure by
twitching agitatedly every few minutes.
Once, it hit Jaime on the butt, and I
apologized.
She giggled. “Don’t be sorry. It’s
funny, I like it.”
“Funny? My dick is funny to you?”
Yes, jokes were good. Jokes would
distract me.
“I’m sorry, let me try again.” She
peeked at it. “You’re right. It’s a very
serious cock. Very no-nonsense.
Businesslike. Maybe even presidential.”
I pinched her ass. “I thought you
were going to say stiff.”
She glanced down again. “Not yet,
but getting there.”
“Don’t look. You’ll only encourage
it, and I’m trying not to get hard.”
“Why on earth would you do that?”
“Because I’m trying to be a good guy
and show you that we can have fun
together without having sex.”
“Silly boy,” she whispered, stroking
me softly. “I know we can have fun
together without having sex. But I
happen to love having sex with you.”
My plan to not fuck her was
unraveling at an alarming speed—the
speed with which my dick was getting
hard. I made one last effort. “I know, and
I love it too, but I also like just being
close to you. Talking to you. Listening to
you.”
But please put your finger in my
ass again. That was fucking amazing.
“Listen to me,” she said, sliding her
hand up and down my flesh. “I feel
closer to you than I’ve ever felt to any
man, ever. I’ve let you in deeper.
Revealed more of myself. And my
favorite way to share that with you, the
only way I’m good at, is with my body.
It’s the language I speak. Does that make
sense?”
Her words stirred something inside
me, and it was enough to overcome my
restraint. “Yes,” I said, letting my hands
go where they wanted, putting my lips on
her warm, wet skin. “Yes.”
She laughed throatily, slinging an
arm around my neck. “You’re so fucking
easy.”
TWENTY-TWO
JAIME
SO FUCKING EASY
.
It would be so fucking easy to just
let him slide inside me, hot and hard
and wet.
We’d made it onto my bed,
ostensibly to get a condom, but neither of
us had reached for one. Too impatient to
even dry off, our bodies dripped onto my
sheets as we lay on our sides and clung
to each other, my leg thrown over his
hip, his cock trapped between us, our
lips locked in a feverish kiss.
But should we?
The one time we’d done it without a
condom I’d been able to dismiss as a
spontaneous, heat-of-the-moment oopsy,
like a crime of passion. I wouldn’t be
able to do the same this time if I kept
thinking about it—this would clearly be
premeditated.
But I wanted it. I wanted it so badly.
I wanted him to have me in a way no
one else ever had. I wanted to share
myself in a way I never had. I wanted us
to experience each other skin to skin,
nothing between us. This whole night
had been a series of breaking down
barriers, from our conversation at dinner
to the sexual adventure in the kitchen to
inviting him into my shower—and the
more I opened myself to him, the further
I wanted him to go.
I’d told him things tonight I’d never
told anyone, done things to him and let
him do things to me I’d been scared to
even think about before. And he hadn’t
judged me—he never judged me. He
was so patient with me, so sweet, so
stubborn, so sure that I had the capacity