“You loved it,” I manage between heavy breaths.
“Yeah, I did.” She circles the rim of the leaking tip with her tongue, then traces the pulsing vein that runs the length of my shaft.
And then,finally, she sucks me into her mouth.
I sit back and watch, letting her decide it all. The pace, the depth, to do this.
I’m well aware this resolves very little between us. That getting each other off doesn’t decide anything about the future. It’s a relief though to touch her. To have her touch me. To acknowledge that we want each other.
She licks a straight line along the length of my dick. I curse loudly, not caring if the whole building hears. I doubt any blood is reaching my hands—I’m clenching them so tight. Her mouth is perfect—slick and smooth and hot—tongue rubbing the underside as she sucks me deep. The tip is brushing against the back of her throat, and I can’t think straight anymore. Can’t think at all actually.
There’s a distinctive tug in my groin that tells me I’m close to coming.
“Claire, I—I am close.”
Rather than pull away, she sucks harder, her nails leaving crescent marks on my thighs.
“Make sure you swallow it all, Boston.”
Claire moans, the vibration sending me over the edge. I come so hard that my vision blurs, heat streaking down my spine as my groin muscles contract, filling her mouth.
She does swallow it all, then reaches for her jeans like she didn’t just destroy me. She avoids eye contact as she pulls them on slowly, stuttering a half step as she stands. If not for her flushed cheeks and swollen lips and tangled curls, I’d think what happened was a fantasy in my head.
I’m hit with another wave of déjà vu. “Claire…”
“Don’t. Just…don’t. I have to go. It’s late, and I’m—you were right. I’ve been pretending. And I have to show up for practice tomorrow and keep pretending, so just…let me.”
I nod, yanking my boxers back up.
I shouldn’t have let it go that far. I want Claire to take my feelings for her seriously, more than I wanted that blow job, and I’m worried what happened gave her the opposite impression. Like I’m still that horny twenty-three-year-old who fucked her every chance he got. I mutter a chastisement to myself, then stand too.
“Don’t do that.”
I glance at Claire. “Stand?”
“Blame yourself. I wanted it too. I kissed you first. Don’t say you messed up.”
I blink at her, slow to comprehend. “You speak German?”
She flushes, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. “Not really. I just know more than I used to.”
“How much more?”
Claire bites her lip. “One of my mom’s doctors… I asked if there was anything preventative I could be doing. Studies have shown that learning a new language can strengthen the brain’s neural networks and prevent cognitive decline.”
“So, you learned it with her?”
“I…I learned it for me. Mom wasn’t able—it was already too late.”
I frown. “What do you mean, you learned it for you?”
Based on Claire’s expression, it’s a question she wishes I hadn’t asked.
“Dementia can have a hereditary component,” she says quietly. “Certain genes can increase the risk. My grandmother was older, but she developed it too.”
“Your genes?”
I’m stunned—paralyzed—by the possibility of her having to go through that. I got a call that my grandfather needed major surgery, and I was fine. Worried, but fine. Functioning.
