Page 81 of Gold Rush

“Yep,” I grunt as her hand moves lower, cupping my aching balls. They’re high and tight, ready for release. “Too bad you weren’t in the shower.”

“You’ve already seen everything.”

“Some views never get old.”

Rory smiles before reaching for the glass that still has an inch of scotch in it. She tosses back the contents, then sinks to her knees. Right here in the fucking kitchen, still in her skirt and blazer, like she’s too eager to move somewhere more comfortable or to take the time to change.

“I’m not sure I’m any good at this. So, tell me what you like, okay?”

Anger mingles with lust. I can make a good guess why she’s insecure about this, and I wish I could rewind time to punch Carson Albright all over again.

Rory takes the head of my cock into her mouth, sucking twice before swirling her tongue around the tip. She withdraws, running her tongue along the length of my shaft before she moves lower, circling each of my testicles.

I grab the granite edge of the island as the pleasure intensifies, settling low in my groin. In the quiet kitchen, I can hear the suction of her mouth, not just feel it.

There’s a wet pop before Rory says, “You’re supposed to be sharing feedback.”

Her tone is irritated, the way she always used to talk to me. And her talking to me that way while she’s on her knees, asking for a blow job performance review, might be the hottest thing I’ve ever experienced.

“Your mouth is the second-best thing I’ve ever felt, right after your pussy. That enough feedback for you?”

She blushes, then shakes her head. “Specifics, Flynn. Do you want me to use my hand or just my mouth?”

“Use both,” I grit out.

Her right hand closes around my erection as she blows on the wet tip. My cock jumps as more blood rushes south.

“Tighter,” I growl. “Like your cunt.”

More red stains her cheeks before she listens, her grip tightening where she’s stroking me. She swallows, taking as much as she can, her tongue rubbing the underside of my dick rhythmically.

I’m trying to hold off—I really am—but that’s rapidly becoming physically impossible. “Rory, I’m going to come.”

She doesn’t pull back.

I shove a hand into her hair, making a mess of her ponytail. “You fucking hear me? I’m going to come in your mouth if you don’t⁠—”

Rory glances up, her eyes blue and brilliant and heated as she holds eye contact with me.

My cock jerks, groin muscles twitching as I fill her mouth with cum.

I’m expecting Rory to cough or spit. Instead, she sucks harder, suctioning my dick like it’s a straw. When I slip out of her mouth, there’s no trace of semen.

“You taste good,” she says nonchalantly, standing.

“Like scotch?”

She smirks, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “Salty.”

I crowd her against the counter again. “That was the best blow job I’ve ever gotten, Florence. It’s a fucking privilege to be in your mouth.”

Rory rolls her eyes, not taking me seriously. “Yeah, okay.”

“Say it.”

“Say what?”

“Say, It’s a fucking privilege to be in my mouth.”