“You wrote me that pretty color-coded list I asked, didn’t you? With every filthy thing you want me to show you? Teach you?” he murmurs against my neck, each question a slow thrust against me.
He knows it. He knowsme. And that makes everything so much hotter.
I’m wearing a silk cami set I panic-ordered this morning and paid an obscene rush fee for. Zero regrets. His pajama pants are barely thicker than a tissue. If he keeps talking, keeps moving, keeps pressing his hardness onto me—I’ll come before we even get to item one.
“What’s on the top of that list, baby? Tell me.”
I loop my arms around his neck and hitch my leg higher around his waist, chasing more friction, granting him full access. I’m wide open, grinding shamelessly against his shaft. Whoever this unhinged woman is, writhing and whimpering and dripping for a man she only just started kissing… I adore her.
“I can’t… I can’t reme?—”
He swallows the rest with a kiss, rescuing me from the humiliation of stuttering and ruining the moment.
When we break for breath, I don’t think—I just act. My hand slips between us, palm landing over his cock with a need so bold it borders on criminal. “I want to see you. Taste you. Let me.”
His dick pulses in my hand, so thick and heavy, each throb daring me to look down. I haven’t even seen it yet, but the thin cotton between us does nothing to soften the threat. I’ve never handled anything this massive.
My body’s split between two urges: climb him or run for my life. He’s going to either crack my pelvis or rearrange my internal organs.
But I didn’t come this far to fold at the sight of a challenge. Doesn’t matter how—literally—imposing it is.
I tug on the string of his pajama pants and loosen the bow, ready to dive into uncharted territory, when his fingers close around my wrist.
“Always so eager to please,” he murmurs, tone dark and knowing. “Always thinking about someone else’s needs before your own.”
What in fresh, condescending hell is this?
I glare. He grins.
“Let’s break that habit, shall we?”
He lifts my hand away with maddening care, as if unwrapping a present he intends to take his time with. “Here’s tonight’s lesson,” he says, walking me back against the wall, and pinning said hand above my head.
Fuck, that’s hot.
“Never put your mouth on a man who hasn’t made youcome first. Who hasn’t begged for the chance to taste you. Who hasn’t earned it.”
Oh, shit.
By that logic, I’ve never had proper cause to suck a single dick in my entire life.
He carries on, since I only communicate through moans now. “Do you know the saying ‘don’t do to others what you wouldn’t want done to yourself?’ For head, it’s the opposite. Don’t waste a second on a man who’s not desperate to go down on you. So the rule is: don’t do to others what they haven’t fucking earned.”
Preston lifts my chin, gaze locked on mine, dead serious. “If he hasn’t made you scream for mercy with his mouth on your pussy—” His palm lowers, presses between my thighs, fingers sliding slow and firm over silk. My hips widen, answering before my mouth can. “He doesn’t get your time. He doesn’t get your smile. He sure as hell doesn’t get your mouth. Got it?”
I nod so fast I might sprain something.
“Good.” He grins, and my chin drops—having him in control feels borderline spiritual. “Now, the next part of our lesson…”
For one sanity-snapping second, his fingers leave my pussy.
He slides his thumb beneath my waistband in a deliberate move. And even when he’s seconds away from total depravity, ever the gentleman, he asks, “May I have this pleasure?”
I stop him, my free hand leaving his neck to wrap around his wrist. Not to refuse—but to stall. To manage expectations. Because even though my panties could end asmall drought, my brain’s sprinting in circles, and I need him to know it’s not about him.
“Pres, I’ve… never come from…”
Again, he silences me with a kiss. Hotter and hungrier than before. Just distracting enough to settle the nerves buzzing through me.
