“Please.” Obviously Cooke was in the same predicament.
Nervous, I leaned over him again and kissed the tip once more. Then I swiped the head with my tongue. Cooke moaned and leaned back in his chair. I pushed his hand away so I could use my own. Stroking him up and down, I couldn’t believe how warm and smooth he was. There were veins here and there that all led to the head. I licked him starting at the base and working my way up. I knew I was getting somewhere, because Cooke said all sorts of dirty things to me. Dirty things I’ll never forget.
“Fucking hell, love. Yes. Lick my cock.”
When I placed my mouth over the head and sucked, he nearly came unglued. “Suck me. Suck all of me. Fecking swallow my cock, Quinn.”
He had me so frenzied, I did what he said, choking several times. I didn’t care because the man was saying my name right along with all that filth. I loved it. Having my mouth on Cooke’s cock was a pleasure for both of us.
I did it several more times while I was there, each time Cooke telling me I was a “fecking natural.” It makes me blush and giggle at the same time whenever I think about it. And feel a little proud, to be honest. Mind you, I’m not sure I’d like to do that with just anyone. I think it’s best if you love the person, but that’s just me. No judgment here. To each his own and all that.
Besides the blow jobs, we also watched my first porno together while lying on his bed, and let me just say office porn is not terrible. Well, okay, it is terrible, but in a good way.
It’s official. I’m a sex fiend.
Last night, my final night in London, Cooke made me dinner—omelets and toast. It was perfect. I was glad we chose to stay in, as I didn’t want to share him with anyone. Well, that was until half of his rugby team showed up at the door at ten at night, all of them completely plastered. I guess they were celebrating a win against their biggest rival, Wales. I’m not sure why Cooke didn’t want to watch it on the TV, but he didn’t. Hell, I didn’t even know there was a match.
Anyway, that doesn’t matter. What does matter is I got to meet his teammates. Ian remembered me from our first FaceChat. He told me once again that I had great baps. I now know baps are breasts, but I wanted to die of embarrassment last night, because when he said it, I just said, “Thanks,” since I had no idea what he meant. It had all of them laughing hysterically. The arseholes. At least he said they were nice.
As for some of the other guys, they kept their opinions about my baps and everything else about me to themselves. I did catch one guy giving me the stink eye and a couple of the others checking me out. I didn’t like it, and from the look on Cooke’s face, he didn’t much like it either. I think that’s why he told them all to “Go on, lads. Leave me with my woman.”
“Aye,” said Ian. Clapping his hands together to get the drunken group’s attention, he led them out the door to the two SUVs waiting at the curb.
“At least they aren’t driving,” I said as I shut the door to the last of them.
Before I knew what was happening, Cooke had my back up against the door, my arms over my head, and his tongue down my throat. Of course I kissed him right back. Why wouldn’t I?
“Those bloody twats,” he said as he kissed me right below my ear. “Looking at you like you aren’t mine.” His hands were magic. When he pulled at my nipples, I felt it in my core. Then when his hand slid down into my leggings, seeking my clit, I moaned and nipped at his neck.
“Cooke,” I whined.
“I’ve got you, love.” And he did. He used his fingers to bring me to orgasm. After I came down from that high, I reached down to touch him, but he stopped me. “No. I just wanted to make you feel good.”
Still trying to get my hands on him, I whispered, “I do. Let’s feel good together.”
Taking my hand in his, Cooke led me to his bedroom. “Lie with me. Let me hold you while we sleep. Tomorrow is coming too soon.”
Well damn. I knew sex was out of the question, since he couldn’t do anything that would jeopardize his leg, but I thought at least we could do something more. I understood, though. I was just happy to be with him for one more night.
So, when I woke up the next morning, Cooke was already up, making breakfast. Alone in his bed, I started to sob, but I gathered myself as I showered and packed up my things. I rolled my suitcase out to the living room and was overcome with sadness until I saw Cooke had his dining table set for breakfast. He even had fresh flowers in the middle of the table.
“Breakfast, miss?” He bowed next to my chair, then pulled it out so I could sit.
“Th-Thank you, Cooke.” I sniffled as I sipped my juice. I pretended to nibble on the eggs and toast, because my stomach was in knots.
Cooke moved closer to me, taking one of my hands in his. “Now,” he said all businesslike, “make sure you text me as soon as you land in the States, and again when you land in Iowa, and again when you get back to Ames.”
“I will.”
“I’ll FaceChat with you in a couple of days as well.”
“All right.”
“And, Quinn?”
My head was down, staring at our hands. When he said my name, I looked up at him. He was leaning in, close enough to kiss. “Yeah?”
“I love you.”
