The corners of his mouth twitch, like he’s fighting a laugh. “Making it up to you for not losing my pants.”
“Hell, yes.” I’m not afraid to admit when I’m wrong. Especially when I’ve just had the best orgasm of my life. Hopefully the first of many tonight. “That was incredible. Now do I get to see you naked?”
“Greedy girl.”
“Guilty as charged.” I hold my arms out and cross them at the wrists. “Lock me up and throw away the key.”
“If I had known you were into that kind of stuff, I would have borrowed a pair of handcuffs from the security guard downstairs.”
He kisses my stomach just above the landing strip that leads to my sex and crawls up the bed until he’s lying next to me. When his waistband is in reach, I go for his belt buckle, unfastening it then the button at the top of his fly.
I stop at his zipper, taking a moment to appreciate the obvious bulge underneath. I run my hand down it, squeeze it in my fingers. It pulses in my palm, hard and hot even through his trousers.
“Thought you wanted me naked,” he growls.
“You had your turn,” I tell him. “Shut up and let me have mine.”
“Bossy.”
I give his dick another squeeze, and it throbs harder. “Don’t pretend like you don’t love it.”
He doesn’t have a snappy comeback for that one. Or maybe he does, but it gets swallowed up in his groan when I slide down his zipper and slip my hand under the waistband of his boxer briefs. I elicit another groan when I circle his length with my fingers and stroke.
Not waiting anymore for me to undress him, he lifts his hips and shoves his pants and briefs down to his knees in one quick jerk. I release him long enough to help get them off completely, along with his shoes and socks. Then all my attention is back on his cock.
“I could fucking die right here a happy man,” he says as I resume stroking him. “So goddamn happy.”
“Dying isn’t exactly the reaction I’m going for.” I continue to fondle his dick as I worm my way down his magnificent body. He’s got those vees where his hips and abs meet. You know, the ones that point to the promised land and make women stupid. Even his calves are ripped, every inch of him a new revelation. And who has sexy feet? Seriously, there’s not a thing about him that doesn’t rev my engine.
I keep moving south until my it’s my lips that are inches from his naughty parts. Returning the favor. Or is it turnabout is fair play? Maybe a bit of both. “I was thinking more seeing stars.”
“If you put your mouth on me, I’ll be seeing entire constellations. Planets. Comets shooting through the night sky.”
I move closer, my warm breath teasing the tip of his cock. “Then prepare to go into orbit.”
I take a second to admire him before going down on him. I’m still not convinced he won’t regret defiling his best friend’s baby sister in the morning. This may be the only chance I get to experience the wonder that is Connor Dow, sex god. I want every second, every image burned into my memory bank.
I’ve never thought of a guy’s junk as beautiful, but his is. It’s standing loud, long, and proud, the thick, spongy crown a shade darker than the rigid shaft. A clear bead of liquid pearls at the slit, shining like a beacon, begging me to lap it up.
“Remember what I said about dying? That’s a real possibility if you don’t put that pretty mouth on my dick in the next ten seconds. Either that or I’m going to flip you over and bury myself inside you.”
Seems like a win/win situation to me. I go for door number one, figuring door number two is always on the table for later. My hand works the base of his cock while my mouth concentrates on the head. He hisses when I flick the slit with my tongue, then swirl it around the tip, teasing his frenulum.
The hisses turn to full-on moans when the teasing stops and I suck him deep, taking him as far into my mouth as I can. He’s smooth and stiff and pulsing and tastes as good as I imagined. Like skin and soap, with a hint of musky sweetness.
I slide my lips over his length, up and down, over and over, encouraged by his ragged breathing and his husky sex sounds and the way his hands sink into my hair, not directing or controlling my movements but just guiding them. After what could be two minutes or twenty—hard to keep track of time when you’re focused on rocking a guy’s world—he tugs on my hair, easing my mouth away from him.
“Did I do something wrong?” I ask, knowing full well that I didn’t.
“No. You did something very, very right. So right that if you keep doing it I’m going to come.”
“Isn’t that the objective?”
“Not until I’m inside you.”
Oh, goody. Door number two. “Please tell me you have condoms stashed somewhere in this palace.”
He rolls away from me and opens the nightstand drawer. After a few seconds of fumbling, he pulls out a foil packet and rips it open. I skootch back up the bed and let myself enjoy the show as he suits up.
