His throat bobs as he nods. “Yes.”
“So there, you’re the boss. Here, though, this is my place. So they’re my rules. You want to get fucked, I’m going to suck you until you’re ready to come. Then you get fucked.” My heart is beating fast in my chest, but every word grounds my focus and my need. “You ready?”
He grunts as I drag my tongue around the head of his erection, but when I look up again, he’s watching me, eyes hooded. Won’t take much to get him going. I want to know what he smells like when he’s sweaty and wrecked.
I think it’s time to find out.
12
Nash
I’ve known Brady was a smart guy from the first time he sat across from me and answered all my questions with this rapid-fire confidence that said he was unequivocally the guy for the job.
Turns out he is the guy for many jobs.
Teasing my sanity to within an inch of its life using only his lips and tongue, for example.
He’s always had a smart mouth.
Right now, my dick is exploring the back of his throat, and he’s swallowing like a champ, and all I can do is stare up at the ceiling and repeat his name.
“Brady. Brady. Fuck. Don’t stop.”
Except every time my balls tense and my orgasm is on the verge of erupting, he slides off me, the air cold where it hits his spit on too-sensitive skin, and I whine in frustration.
“No. No, please.”
His smile would be enough to make me come, except he’s got a grip on the base of my shaft that would stop a tidal wave in a disaster movie.
“Not yet,” he says. “Thought you came here to fuck.”
“Then fuck me already,” I say through gritted teeth.
He licks a line up my cock, making me shudder. Then he presses out his lower lip in a pout that would be annoying if I weren’t so aroused I can’t think straight.
“Mmm,” he says, like he’s considering it. “Not yet.”
He goes back to sucking my entire consciousness out of my dick.
Fuck. Fuck, if I’d known it would be like this, I would have...
I would have what? What have I done lately but wallow in my anger and guilt that I couldn’t be what my husband needed me to be? That my kids continue to lead their lives without me under the same roof on a regular basis?
This. With Brady. It’s exactly what I need, even for a little while, to get me back on track.
Speaking of on track, Brady tongues my slit, and the pressure is building again. But instead of tensing, instead of panting and whining his name and begging again, I relax. Go limp. I spread my arms out over the mattress and exhale, waiting for the soft warm burn that will erupt all on its own.
Except just as it starts, as the trembling threatens to take over even as I fight to stay still, Brady slides off me again with a slurp and a wink before he swats at my thigh and says, “You’re ready.”
“For what?” I grouse, annoyance flooding back even as semen and ecstasy recede again. Fuck him. Fuck his teasing mouth and his sly smiles. I can get off at home without all this effort.
He’s still on his knees at the side of the bed, and he drags one dry finger between my legs, behind my balls and over my taint until he finds the crease of my ass and the tight muscle of my entrance. He hardly brushes it, but it’s enough to send my hips off the mattress, my dick lurching up like a rocket.
“Roll over,” he says. I glare at him, and he smacks my leg again. His lips are swollen and slick, but they make his smile even more perfect. He raises his palm a third time. “Go on. On your stomach.”
I help myself to one of the two pillows at the head of the bed and put it under my hips as I turn. He may be in charge, but my lower back isn’t what it used to be. For a split second I wonder—not for the first time—if he sees an old man when he sees me, but the question flutters away at the sound of his zipper, and when I glance over my shoulder, he’s pulled off his shirt and is stepping out of his jeans.
I expect him to go straight for my ass, but instead he crawls up the bed behind me, knees on either side of my hips. He spreads his body over mine, covering my back with his warm skin.
