“Oh fuck,” she groans. “Right there. Fuck. That’s so good.”
Fuck me, I love some erotic direction. In fact, the break in her voice as she mindlessly chases her pleasure is the hottest thing I’ve ever fucking heard, and it consumes so many of my senses that I feel like I’m drowning in her. And it’s exactly where I want to be.
When I feel her hand weave through my hair and hold my head exactly where she wants it, I lose it—knowing I’m pleasing her, knowing she wants it just as badly, hearing her breathy moans and feeling her quivering under my tongue…
Out of nowhere, the mounting pressure in my body crests and releases, tightening and shooting outwards. It’s sudden, sharp, and intense. I make a strangled sound, pulling away as my entire body clenches. My vision blurs, pleasure rockets up my spine, and something warm and wet coats the sensitive tip of my cock.
She stiffens, releasing my head as her thighs tense like they’re trying to close. “Peter?” The soft arousal is gone from her tone.
Well. That wasunexpected. Damn. How embarrassing. “Fuck,” I curse, seeing the wet spot darkening near my zipper. “I… erm…”
“Did you just…”
“Yeah.”
Her brows shoot up, but there’s no derision in her expression—just curiosity and a hint of amusement. She scoots back and closes her legs like she’s closing the chapter on this, and I rise to my feet. She hasn’t said anything, but humiliationswirls at the thought of coming without even a single touch like a horny teenager. I want to kick myself.
“Are you okay?” she asks carefully, tip-toeing around my ego. “You seem upset.”
“Because I’m a wanker and I’ve completely ruined the moment,” I admit, rolling my eyes at myself. “Coming in my trousers like a lad.”
“Like a lad,” she repeats, laughing in a lighthearted way. “You must really like eating pussy, huh?”
“In general? Sure. But yours? Well, let’s just saythat’snever happened before,” I say, letting my eyes drop to her lips.
“No?” Pride leaks into the single word, and I allow myself to hope that she doesn’t think I’m some kind of embarrassment.
“No. It was… the sounds you were making and the way you taste… Goddamn, Madison. You are so incredible.”
She shakes her hair back over her shoulders and leans towards me. “Well, I don’t think you’re a wanker or that the moment is ruined at all—because I gotta admit, that’s pretty flattering,” she murmurs, smiling into the words and tilting up her face towards mine like she’s asking for another kiss.
My heart lurches. She’sflattered? Fuck, that’s an even better reaction than I dared to hope for. Utterly helpless against that look, I brush my lips against hers. I want another proper taste, but she pulls back.
“Honestly, this was so fucking hot, but it’s probably not going to happen for me. Not your fault,” she adds with a slightly guilty expression that I want desperately to kiss away. “I love that you wanted to. That you tried. No one’s ever…”
In an instant, all lingering uncertainty dissolves, replaced by a tingly warmth. We’re both a little embarrassed, but for opposite reasons.
“Next time, I’ll make sure to control myself.” She deserves to have a man on his knees for her, trying in earnest to give her as much pleasure as she wants—but from now on, that man will only ever beme.
She grins and admonishes, “Yeah, what the hell, man. Warn a girl next time. I thought British people were supposed to be polite. Shouldn’t you have been all, ‘tally ho, pip pip, good heavens, I’m arriving!’ or something?”
My laughter shakes both of us. “Pip pip? Well. My sincerest apologies, luv,” I say, attempting to make the endearment sound more heavily accented than usual.
She clears her throat and sits up, righting her skirt. “I’d offer to help youclean up,” she says, eyes flashing with double meaning, “but we should probably get going if we’re going to make our reservation, right?”
I check my watch and curse. I glance around, finding a door with appropriate markings. “I’ll be right back,” I promise.
I’ve only been in the bathroom for a minute when I hear her voice, muffled through the door. She’s speaking to someone, her tone climbing and sounding more urgent as the conversation progresses. I’m reaching for the handle to find out what’s going on when there’s a knock.
“Peter?”
I open the door, still clutching a handful of wet paper towels.
Her eyes are wide. Frightened. “I’m so, so sorry, but I just got a call from myabuela’snursing home and I have to go.”
Alarm wraps around my vocal cords, and a fierce kind of protectiveness surges in my stomach. I don’t know where the danger is, but I desperately want to shield her from it. “Is everything all right? Do you need me to drive you?”
“I think she’s okay, but I… she needs me. I have to go. I’m so sorry!”
