She continues down my sternum.Her lips leave warm kisses on my solar plexus.
I ache for her.
She’s moving down the center of my stomach.On her way toward Captain Blackbeard.
Really?I’ve named my dick?What’s happened to me?
I raise up to watch her.Her hair brushes my skin as her mouth slips along my flesh.She is so soft against me, silky.
Her back is arched and that lovely ass of hers looks almost too good to be true.
I let my head drop to the blankets.
Oh, holy fuck.
Her mouth captures me in wet velvet, moving up and down my dick.This isn’t a blow job.This is Phoebe, an extension of the loving and sexual creature I can’t believe I’ve been lucky enough to encounter.
To get to know.
“Oh, shit,” I mumble.
She lifts her mouth from me, which is not what I wanted.I make the necessary course correction with a gentle press of my palm to the back of her head.
“Don’t stop.”
“Just tell me if I do something you don’t like.”
I throw an arm over my face and laugh.This girl is killing me.
Something I don’t like?
Something I don’t love?
I don’t fucking think so.
“It’s good,” I tell her.“So fucking good.”
I don’t know what this is.Why it’s so different?Of course, women have given me head, and some of it has been spectacular.Top-shelf.
But because this is Phoebe, it’s not something to be ranked or rated.
It’s deeper.Hotter.More important.
Exactly right.
Her mouth is a satin embrace.Soft suction and hot licks followed by the barest scrape of her teeth.She’s taking most of me in her mouth, then into her throat, and letting me slip free.Then she’s back at it.
I reach down to touch her again because I have to.She clasps my hand in hers and holds onto me, intent on giving me this pleasure.
Why is she like this?Why is she doing this for me?Why is she giving me so much of herself?
Not as part of an unspoken transaction, but simply because she has always loved me.
Me.
The self-righteous prick in the fancy suits.The grumpy hard-ass.
I don’t deserve her.
