Letting him set the pace with his hand in my hair, I fall into a trance, enraptured by the feel of him slipping and sliding over my tongue.
I think back to all the little things he taught me and try to incorporate a few standouts.
Using my hand, I pump and squeeze the base of his cock, adding a twist.
“Jesus. Fuck. Keep doing that. So good, cookie. You’re taking me beautifully.”
The more honey he pours on me, the more wanton I become, desperate to make him go wild.
When I withdraw, I press my tongue up so it laves at that special spot under the tip where he directed so much of my focus.
He turns feral, moaning and cursing up a storm. His grip on my hair tightens possessively.
That’s the winner.
“Holy fuck, cookie. Fuck, fuck,fuuuck. I’m so damn close.”
Emboldened by his praise, I dare a quick fondle of his balls with my other hand. A gentle caress to see what happens. Maybe I’ll get some extra credit.
He reacts with a guttural sound that might as well be a sonnet he wrote just for me. I feel like a sex kitten, put on earth for the explicit purpose of sucking this man’s dick.
As I keep pleasuring him, his hips thrash and jerk, increasing the tempo of his thrusts. I struggle to keep pace, my tongue losing some finesse.
He stops almost suddenly, and I assume he’s about to come. But he isn’t. I keep him in my mouth, though. Just in case. If hemesses up this shirt, I have no clue what I’ll wear to dinner. I haven’t done laundry in a while.
Blinking out of my head, I peer up at him, finding his teeth bared and his eyes wide with concern. “Sorry. Too rough?”
I moan and whimper, shaking my head to encourage him to keep going. And I double down on the suction.
Loving the view from down here, I don’t take my eyes off him as I bring him to nirvana. Using everything he taught me and tricks of my own, I return him to the brink.
He comes in a roar, his length swelling and pulsating in my mouth. Warmth sprays toward my throat, and I ignore the taste and swallow it down. I take every drop, giddy that I didn’t gag or spit all over him.
Best of all, I’ll have a little bit of him inside me all night long.
As I lick his taste off my lips to savor him, he tucks himself in his boxer briefs and lowers to his knees.
His warm palms find their way home to my cheeks, and he gives me a tender kiss.
“Did I do good?” I ask cheekily, knowing full well I aced the test.
“You’re a natural. Perfection. Lesson over. You passed.”
Lingering in his afterglow, I feel oddly sated. After he catches his breath, he kisses me again.
Pulling back, he flashes his dimples.Obscenely.
“We still have five minutes, cookie. Take off your jeans and set a timer. I bet I can make you come and still leave us two minutes to freshen up.”
“Youbet, huh? I thought you didn’t gamble anymore,” I jest.
“Don’t worry, cookie. Making you climax is a sure thing.”
SIXTY-THREE
Getting away with murder
LILA
