I can’t look away from him either. Not as his big body slowly lowers between my spread thighs. Not as the drag of stubble along his left jaw brushes against my skin, sending goosebumps down my limbs and my nipples pulling tight.
It’s not until Titus’s mouth meets my slick flesh and his eyes slip closed on a groan that I manage to look away. Even then, it’s only because all I can see is the inside of my eyelids. Becauseholy shit.How can one lick feel so freaking good?
I’m used to the mediocrest of mediocre when it comes to this act. Men who do it out of obligation, not enjoyment.
But based on the way his fingers grip my thighs and how his mouth latches onto me, Titus is for sure enjoying himself. A revelation that has my eyes snapping back open in disbelief as I push up to my elbows so I can watch as he feasts on me like I’m better than caramel cake.
Which is saying something.
The sight before me might be the hottest thing I’ve ever witnessed. Titus is gorgeous in any capacity, but naked Titus is a fucking work of art.
The towel at his waist was lost somewhere in the process of us climbing up the bed, affording me an unhindered view of not just his upper body, but also his perfectly shaped ass and thick thighs. The sight of his taut muscles bunching and flexing as he does things with his mouth I didn’t know were possible works me up at a disappointingly fast pace. I want to savor this moment. Memorize the view. But the steady flick of his tongue on a spot right next to my clit has my body tingling and my muscles clenching in a way I can’t control.
When he slides a long finger into me, it’s like lighting a fuse.
A very short one.
Because a second later, I explode, coming harder than I thought possible as he continues teasing against my clit and fucking me with a finger that strokes against the unicorn of spots inside me.
Titus groans along with me, his hips flexing against the mattress. Imagining him fucking me like that instead of the blankets sends an aftershock that might actually be a second orgasm rippling through me. It’s too much, and I end up collapsing back to the pillows, losing my view. But it’s fine. Because thanks to Titus, I can’t currently see straight anyway.
I’m boneless, completely incapable of movement as he crawls up my body, lips coasting along my skin. I could swear he seems to pause just below my belly button, spending an extra heartbeat at that spot. But I’ve probably just lost all concept of time along with the ability to see straight.
Titus noses against one of my tightened nipples, teasing it through my top. “I hate that I didn’t make it up here.” His eyes lift to mine as he mouths my breast through the soft fabric, puckering my skin further. “Next time.”
Next time?
Will I sound greedy if I ask when he thinks next time might be?
Maybe.
Titus’s face twists into a grimace as he shifts on the bed, liftingone of his legs away from the blankets. “Next time I’m also going to make sure my towel ends up under me.”
I lean, looking in the same direction he is, to discover a very obvious wet spot right where he’d been laying.
“Did you…” I could tell Titus was having a nice time, but I didn’t think he would…
Could…
Instead of answering my question, Titus nuzzles along my neck, voice low in my ear as he asks, “What doyouwant to eat for breakfast?”
“Toast?” I’m not really hungry, but that’s nothing new. I rarely wake up hungry these days. However, I’ve learned the hard way I have to eat anyway.
Otherwise—puke.
He nods. “I can make toast happen.”
Sliding off the bed in a way that obscures my ability to get a peek at the only part of his body I haven’t yet had my eyeballs on, Titus goes to the large walk-in closet, stepping inside. When he comes back into view, he’s wearing a pair of jeans slung low on his hips. His gaze lands on where I’m still lying—half naked—across his bed. A slow smirk lifts his lips. “Having a hard time getting moving?”
Fuck a duck.
I've seen serious Titus. Worried Titus. Stressed Titus. I've even seen funny Titus and glimpses of charming Titus. All of them have made it difficult for me to stick to the plan I came here with.
But cocky Titus? He's got me wanting to throw the whole plan out the window. Then set it on fire. Then grind it up into dust.
Then scatter that dust into the wind.
Collecting my pajama pants from where he abandoned them, Titus shakes them out before sliding them back into place. Once I'm dressed, he grips my hands and tugs me upright, using enough force that not only do I end up on my feet, but I also end up pressed right against him.
