He peered up at me, all blue-eyed wanton innocence.
“I didn’t come here for that.”
His gaze fell, lips pulling into a frown. “You don’t want?—”
“No, I do. But I don’t expect—I was going to?—”
“Xander?”
“Yes?”
“I’ve spent years dreaming of this. Shut up and let me suck your cock.”
My jaw fell open on a vulgar groan. “Right, yes. Absolutely. You just… do that.” My nod was too long and too much. Tom merely smiled, bright and pleased, as though he hadn’t just offered up the single most arousing two sentences in the English language or any other.
Then his gaze fell to my prick. Gently, he traced it with his fingers, gathered the bead of moisture on the tip, and dragging it down the thick vein at the base. The sensation was unlike any other. Tender, reverent. His touch was nothing like my perfunctory tight strokes and it left me breathless. Breathless and impatient.
“I thought you said you were going to suck it.”
He humphed, eyes flicking to mine. “I also said I’ve spent years dreaming of this. You have the prettiest cock in the whole world. Let me admire it a minute.”
“You cannot possibly know that.”
“You have the prettiest everything in the whole world.” His grin was a bright burst in the dark room.
I should have been irritated by the feminine descriptor, but I was vain and loved a compliment—and everything about his expression was complimentary.
Before I could find more words, he pressed a kiss to the tip of my prick. Whether his groan or mine was louder was anyone’s guess. Teasingly he traced his tongue along the same path his finger had taken. Then he pulled back, eyes meeting mine again.
“Do you—Do you know how to?—”
He shot me a look that told me I was an utter nitwit before drawing me into his mouth with a groan.
My fingers found the soft hair at the nape of his neck on instinct before I remembered myself.It’s his first time. Don’t rush. Don’t pressure.I repeated my mantra with devotion, right until the moment one of his hands found my own on the back of his head and tangled his fingers with mine, then applied pressure.
It took a moment to comprehend his meaning, but gradually I took over, guiding him. I felt his moan along the length of my shaft as his hand left mine to meet the other clenching on the cheek of my bottom.
“Tom,” I groaned, unable to form anything longer.
He was surprisingly skilled for someone who’d never had a cock in his mouth before—and like everything else, what he lacked in innate talent he more than made up for in enthusiasm and bravado.
This, just as he had the fence, he approached with a guess and a dauntless determination to try—a willingness to suffer failure. That he was using such charming qualities in the service of my pleasure… It had my heart pounding and my balls tightening. Seeming to sense that my pleasure was rushing to a peak, one hand slipped to cradle them. Release rushed ever nearer as he managed to time his tongue to my thrusts—too rough and fast for much else. My mantra was washed away by the blood rushing in my ears and the filthy symphony of groans and slick flesh.
And then he looked up at me with such an expression of adoration, lust, and gratitude that I lost the tenuous grip on my control with a groan and spilled down his throat—entirely without the warning I intended to offer. My groan mixed with Tom’s as his fingers clenched on my arse.
My fingers were slow to cooperate and release Tom’s curls. As I did, he pulled back, shuddering as he nuzzled a cheek into my thigh with a sigh. The gesture was so sweet, and the juxtaposition from seconds before left me tetchy and too hot everywhere.
His breaths were nearly as ragged as my own, a tiny windstorm whipping across the hair on my legs. He wore an expression of drunk delight that would’ve had me ready to peak again if he hadn’t wrung every ounce of pleasure from my body already.
My throat was too dry, even after a swallow or two, but eventually I felt certain I was capable of speech. “So…” Whether that speech was worthy of the word was a different story.
I felt his smile against my thigh. “So…”
“Was that— Did you— Was it enjoyable?”
Tom pulled away, gaze meeting mine. His eyes were darker, only the slightest bit brighter than the sky outside caressing the moon. “I believe that’s my line.”
“No.” I cupped his jaw, brushing my thumb across swollen, rose-red lips. “Tell me,” I demanded. He could deflect a great many things—but not this. This was too important.
