“That’s a given.”
She reached for the button on his jeans, undid them and pushed them down, then dropped to her knees.
So far they’d always ended up naked in bed and having intoxicating sex.
Fast, heart-stopping, thrilling moments he had shared little with other women.
It was new and he wondered if that was part of the appeal and excitement or if it was Jocelyn.
Normally he took control and she let him, but sometimes, she took steps like this.
Her fist wrapped around his shaft, giving him a few strokes he didn’t need to get ready. The liquid pebbling out of the top got on her palm as she spread it around.
She dipped her head, her tongue coming out to taste and lap up the wetness she had his body creating.
“You taste good,” she said. “Silky and salty. It’s a tasty combination.”
Her breath was just a whisper on his skin while she talked. The same as he did to her when they were fucking.
No, not fucking. That put a harsher word on what it was, but he wouldn’t say making love. Never that.
He wasn’t sure he’d ever done that with a woman.
But when he looked down at Jocelyn’s ponytail swinging about her head, he knew this might be the woman who could give him his first experience.
She wasn’t going slow, she wasn’t savoring him, she wasn’t treating him with love.
She was demolishing him as if he was the dessert she’d been waiting for all night and dove in face first to lick it all up and claim it as hers only.
Her fist was squeezing him tight, following her mouth up and down, the tension in his balls building.
In the past, he wouldn’t give any warning that he was going to come. He figured if they started it, they knew what they were getting.
With Jocelyn, he gripped her hair with his fist and jerked her head back some. “You’re going to get something soon.”
“Yep. That’s normally the result.”
She dropped back and he let her go. Guess he didn’t need to be a gentleman, but at least he wouldn’t doubt himself either now.
Both her hands wrapped around him, her fingers interlacing as she pumped up and down and sucked hard enough that he thought she was trying to empty him before he was ready.
A few strokes like that with the wetness of her tongue and he was shooting in her mouth, her sucking it up like a straw at the end of a milkshake and not stopping.
He looked around for a wall or a bed to support him, but they were in the center of her room.
Jesus, if his legs gave out on him, he’d feel like an idiot.
Thankfully, she sat back on her heels, then he reached his hand forward to help her stand.
She let out a groan and grabbed her thigh. “Muscle cramp.” She hopped for a second and then rubbed that spot.
He burst out laughing. “Glad you complained first, now I won’t feel like a wuss, but I need to sit.”
She pushed him toward the bed with both of her hands on his chest and then dove on top of him. “It’s your turn.”
She certainly had a way of getting him to laugh.
But he wasn’t laughing hours later when the fire alarms were going off and he was up and out of bed in a flash.
