He’s watching me with a gaze that burns straight through me, desire so clear on his face I feel like I’m drowning in it.
It gives me the drive to press forward until I feel the thick head of his cock hit the back of my throat and I gag. His fingersin my hair tighten, pull slightly—just enough to draw me back so I can catch my breath.
“Easy,” he moans softly… and I’m hit again with how sweet he is. How perfect.
I’m aching with all the ways I’m going to ruin him, as I draw my fingers up around his hips and grab his perfectly sculpted ass so I can press forward again with the fervor of someone who has no idea what they’re doing, but who wants to dogood.
I approach it the same way I do a painting… broad strokes and messy lines. I’m gagging around him, and I can feel the slick heat of drool bubble from my lips. Above me, Donovan tugs on my hair one, two, three more times before he gives up and holds on like he’s fighting for his life as I give him the sloppiest blow job he’s probably ever had.
He isn’t complaining, though. When I glance up his body again, I can see the haze of desire through the tears that make my vision swim. And when one hand shifts greedily and I press the hem of his tank top up, he follows the request instinctively, pulling the fabric up and catching it between his teeth so I can stare at the way his perfectly toned abs ripple every time my throat spasms around his dick.
I gag and he moans, and I realize I could get off on this—Donovan messy, with broken eggs on his kitchen floor and his shirt caught between his teeth while his eyes roll back.
His eyes are burning coals as he watches me choke and slurp and suck his cock, and my fingers are greedy when I wrap them back around his hips and start dragging him forward to meet my motions. He finally catches on, meeting my clumsy bobbing with thrusts. I finally find a rhythm to catch, based on the sharp panting of his breath and the clenching of his fingers.
“God… Shiloh… you don’t…” His voice is so strangled. “You don’t understand how fucking perfect you look right now.”
Donovan sounds so eager to praise, but I’m surprised that he’s managing to speak. I can’t respond, but I take him as far as I can to the back of my throat and hold him there until my body starts to shiver and tremble. I hold him there until I can’t breathe and everything starts to spin, until my throat spasms and my chest aches… and I have to pull back on a gasp.
It leaves me with just the tip of his cock between my lips, and I tilt my head back and loll out my tongue, dragging my fingers around to take hold of his shaft so I can pump.
And like he’s on taut strings that I finally let loose, he explodes. It’s hot and salty against my tongue, a mess that hits my lips and cheeks, mostly falling against my greedy tongue as I taste a man for the first time.
And fuck me if I don’t like it—or maybe it’s not even that it’s a man.
It’s just… Donovan. Sex meant nothing until Donovan, but something about the way he’s letting me in, the way he looks at me… the way he wants to know me…
Fuck, it makes it good.
It’s a good thing I’ve never considered myselfnormal, because I’m pretty sure forming an attachment this fast is the last thing people usually do.
As I sit back on my heels and watch Donovan gasp, his chest rising and falling, his thick cock slowly going limp…
I’m really,reallyglad I don’t give a fuck what normal people do. He’s in my lungs, in the air I’m breathing. I’m obsessed, and I’d kill to make sure it’s a feeling I can keep.
I’m a little wobbly when I stand, but I manage to drag Donovan’s sweats back up his legs as I go. He’s still trying to catch his breath when I angle my head to look at him, aware that my face is covered in cum and saliva. I’m a little shocked when he trails his thumb across my lower lip, catching a bit of both before popping it into his mouth. I think he is too, because thecolor on his cheeks rises as I grin. Fucking filthy—it’s actually sinful how hot that was.
“I need to go.” It’s not what I want to say, and his eyes widen as if I’ve punched the air from his lungs with the statement. “I have class in twenty minutes.”
That seems to soften the blow a bit.
“I didn’t make you breakfast,” he says in a near-dazed voice as he reaches for a napkin and wets it before carefully wiping my face. I let him clean me up and wait until he’s finished before I answer.
“Oh, I feel pretty full.”
The napkin falls to land beside the broken eggs with a wetplop.
I disappear from the room with a grin on my face to finish getting cleaned up.
By the time I’m back, the mess on the floor has been cleaned and Donovan looks put together again. His eyes are warm and a little sad when he looks at me, and before I can stop myself, I speak.
“Come on.”
“What?” His curiosity is there, but he’s already moving forward.
“If you aren’t busy, I need a ride to class.”
His brows shoot up, but the look of pleasure that crosses his face is so pretty it’s kind of worth letting him in. Just a little.
