“Yeah, baby?”
“You’re leaking.”
I look down. My cock’s weeping, all right. Mourning the loss of her.
“Your doing.”
She hums, “One taste. From the source. One lick and I’ll stop.”
I try to steady my breath, but fail miserably.
“I swear I won’t start anything.” She’s lying, but she doesn’t know it. She already fucking has.
Mia sits on the bed, and the way she looks up at me—fuck, I couldn’t deny her a thing. If she asked me for an organ, I’d cut myself open right now and ask which one.
I grab onto my clothes, so I have something to cling toas I walk toward her. She licks her bottom lip, bites into it, and my balls pull tight.
I hold my cock with my free hand and offer it to her. I don’t blink. I need her to keep her word so I can stick to my plan and leave before I fuck her.
Mia doesn’t move her hands. She grips the mattress like she’s fighting a battle as hard as mine.
“Feed me,” she whispers, before opening up her mouth and sliding her tongue out.
“Fuck my life,” I breathe out, already losing it.
I rest the tip on her warm tongue, and she leans in—lips closing around the head, sucking down my pre-cum with a long, moaning pull.
It only lasts a few seconds. But it’s branded in my brain.
The way her cheeks hollow. The moan stuck in her throat. Her eyes holding mine like a fucking challenge. Or a promise.
There’s no explanation as to how I keep still and don’t fuck her mouth until she gags. None.
Except this: she kept her word. She let go. And now it’s my turn to walk away.
“I beg to differ,” she says, licking her lips, “it’s even better straight from your cock.” She’s looking at me when she says it. All hunger and honesty and heat.
I don’t know if she can see what she’s doing to me. If I’m as transparent as she is.
I’m torn between wishing I am and hoping I’m not. I’m not sure I’m ready to be this vulnerable again, as much as she deserves to know.
“Don’t take me anywhere if you don’t plan on lettingme suck you dry and making sure I leave that hotel walking funny. Deal?”
“Deal.”
I kiss her once. Quick. Any longer and I’m staying.
I get dressed, turn and leave the room. I make it to the bathroom in a couple of strides and come all over my chest in four strokes. Glancing down at the mess, at my still-hard dick, all I see is Mia’s lips wrapped around it.
My balls ache like I haven’t just come. They’re throbbing. So I stroke again—fast, rough, punishing—chasing relief. I spread my legs wider, adjust my stance, bracing like it’s going to take a while.
It doesn’t. One flash of Mia bent over the edge of a hotel bed, and I’m spilling again, ropes of cum coating my fist.
I jump into the shower, scrub it all away, and crawl into bed, bone-tired and wrecked.
Mia’s moans echo in my head like a lullaby, and for the first time in God knows how long, I sleep like I fucking mean it.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
