“Then, I don’t know, sneeze into your elbow, or your hand.” He’sentirelyconvinced this is a good idea.
“Ew, Peter. That’s so gross. Then what would I do with a big ol’ booger in my hand, huh?” I shove my hand in his face playfully, even though there’s nothing there.
He laughs, taking my hand and kissing my palm sweetly. “You do what you gotta do, darling.” He rubs his other palm down his thighs, as if to show me what he would do in this scenario.
That stupid nickname makes my limbs all gooey, but I refuse to let it show. I prod him in the stomach with my foot, instead. “You’re disgusting, you know that?” Noticing his reaction, I keep poking at him. He’s ticklish. I don’t let up as he swats at my legs, arms flailing as he giggles.
Finally, having had enough, he twists, grabbing my knees and spreading them until he’s between them. Lying over me, his delicious weight and heated skin keep the evening breeze from making me shiver. We’re in our own little bubble, not visible to any of his neighbors and too far from anyone across the bay.
Still laughing, with the golden-hour light, he looks so happy it makes my chest hurt.
“Fine, I have another one for you,” he says, catching his breath.
“But it’s my turn,” I whine.
“Pfft. We both know you don’t have anything lined up, and I do. Now, listen carefully, because whatever you choose is happening immediately after you give your answer. Ready?”
“Hit me with it, Mr. Darcy.” I bite my lower lip as he narrows his eyes at me, shaking his head, because he knows I’m being a menace.
“Okay, Elizabeth. Would you rather…” He kisses my neck once, twice, three times before lifting his head again. “Have me on my knees for you, eating your sweet pussy while you lie back and take everything I give you, or…” He never breaks eye contact, voice calm and steady, while I’m certain I’ve forgotten how to breathe entirely, let alone speak. “Ride my face until you make yourself come?”
My silence doesn’t faze him. I know my desire is written all over my face.
“Ride your face,” I whisper. His grin tells me he already guessed that would be my answer.
Much too quickly, Peter lifts himself off me and lies down on the other side of the sofa, moving the back cushions out of the way so we have more room. I stand and push his boxer briefs, which I’ve been wearing as shorts, down. Then I settle my knee on the cushion and spin, giving him my back.
“Wh—”
“You never said which way I had to sit.” I smirk at him over my shoulder. He’s silent as I hover my already soaked pussy over his face. I push his shorts off his hips and brace myself on his thick thighs before lowering my mouth to his hard cock and swirling my tongue over the bead of precum.
He lets out a groan. “Fuuuuuuuck.” He lifts his face, giving me one languid lick before letting it drop again. “You little minx.”
I giggle around his swollen head, but it quickly morphs into a moan when he pulls my hips down, sucking my clit into his mouth with enough force that I instinctively pull away, even though it feels so fucking good. His dark, quiet laugh confirms he knows exactly what he’s doing.
Well, two can play at that game.
I take as much of him into my mouth as I can and suck. Hard.
His answering groan vibrates through me as he grabs my hips harder, holding me where he can devour me. I have no idea how he’s breathing.Ifhe’s breathing.
Eventually, he comes up for air, only to replace his tongue with two fingers. I moan desperately around him, my movements speeding up to match his. When he curls his fingers, I lift my head, jerking him with my hand.
“Just like that, baby. You’re gonna make me come.” He doesn’t stop, taking my clit between his lips again and setting my orgasm off. I dive back down, determined to come with his cock in my mouth, and seconds later, he’s spilling into my throat, whimpering as I suck and lick every drop of him.
I rest my head on his thigh, doing my best not to suffocate him, but my legs are weak as shit right now. “Damn, why are you so good at everything?”
Proving my statement, he quickly maneuvers us both so I’m lying on top of him with my head on his chest, still breathing heavily. Somehow, he also managed to pull his shorts up like he’s freaking Houdini.
“I’m not good at everything.” He lets out a long breath. “I can’t surf worth shit, and I’ve been trying for weeks now.” His hand travels to my hair, brushing it away from my face.
“Wait, you surf?” I’d lift my head, but I don’t want to.
“No. Itryto surf.” He chuckles, and my eyes close as my lips pull into a smile. I love this feeling. “I also suck at cooking. And making coffee. Lots of other things…” He trails off, fingers still in my hair.
“You cooked us supper, and it was great,” I mumble into his chest.
“I grilled. That’s not real cooking.”
