“Christ,” he grunted, immediately inviting me to take it further, spreading his legs and bringing up his knees.
I accepted his invitation, opened my mouth over his cock and wet the tip.
Up.
And down, I wet the tip and an inch below it.
Up.
And down.
I took all of him I could get.
“Christ,” he groaned, the thick sound of his voice egging me on, his fingers sifting into my hair and clenching.
I looked up at him as I bobbed.
Good Lord, this man—my man—was amazing.
He was resting back on one arm, the other hand in my hair, his legs wide, staring at me blowing him with so much heat in his eyes, I felt it burning me, so much hunger, I was trembling, ready to be devoured.
Yes.
This was my man.
Mine.
This was my dick.
Mine.
All of him was…
Mine.
On those glorious thoughts, I looked away and set about concentrating on my task of memorizing every inch of silken skin over engorged flesh, exploring every vein with the tip of my tongue.
I brought my hand into play to stroke as I paid special attention to sucking hard at the tip (and Gabe’s fist tightening in my hair told me he liked it).
Eventually, I used both, drawing up and going down with my mouth and pumping with my hand.
All through this, his fingers in my hair encouraged me. The deep, delicious noises he made invigorated me…
Until they were gone, both his hands were under my arms, I was dragged up, turned, and I was again on my back with Gabe on me.
Right.
Good.
We were on the same page because I was more than ready.
He reached for the nightstand.
I caught his forearm.
He looked at me.
“If you’re clean, I’m on the pill, and obviously I got tested after?—”
