“I really want to taste you,” she finally replies between kisses.
“You don’t have to…” I say to her because it’s the required nice-guy response.
But Lyla is not deterred by my words. Reaching down, she starts rolling the condom off, her gentle touch making me swell.
“It would’ve been fun to rub baby oil on you here,” she says, stroking me in her small hand once the rubber is off.
I groan and thrust into her fist. “Why didn’t I think of that?” I ask since it seems so obvious now. “I swear, Lyla, I haven’t had any interest in women or sex until I started unzipping your dress. It was like a switch was flipped, and bam…” Her hand lowers to my balls, giving them a squeeze, making me gasp so hard I nearly choke.
While my eyes are closed, her tongue licks a path up the side of my shaft.
“It’s my first time, so it might be bad. I’ve only seen it done in porn,” she says.
By the time I open my eyes again to reassure her that there’s no wrong way, she’s taking me into her warm, wet mouth.
Like a wet dream, Lyla sucks me hard and fast, making her heavy tits sway as she moans with every pass.
I’ve only had a handful of blowjobs in my life by two different women. It was nothing like this, more of an obligation.
This, Lyla, is a cock-sucking enthusiast.
I love that my dick is the first in her mouth. The only one, at least for tonight…
And right before I start coming down her throat, I can’t help but wonder how the hell I’m supposed to leave her and never look back after tonight.
As soon as I’m able to see and hear again, I sit up and pull Lyla onto my lap, straddling my waist, to kiss her lips, loving that she still tastes like me.
“Good?” she asks when we finally break apart.
“Good?” I repeat as I lie back down, bringing her with me. “‘Good’ isn’t the right word to describe that blowjob,” I tell her honestly. Reaching up, I tuck her hair behind her ear, unable to look away from her red, swollen lips. I want them wrapped around me again so badly my entire body aches. No, I want them anywhere I can get them. “Your mouth is a goddamn treasure.”
I bring her lips to mine, and our tongues explore each other’s mouths lazily while she’s draped over me, so damn sexy it makes the ache worse.
Noticing that I’m hard again, Lyla rubs herself over me and says, “I wish I wasn’t sore so we could do it again.”
“Oh hell, me too. I haven’t felt this good, this comfortable, with someone in so long,” I tell her honestly. I withhold the fact that it was never like this with her sister. Sex with Laurel was scheduled in advance, every move orchestrated entirely by her. While the end result felt good, the foreplay wasn’t anywhere as wild and desperate as it was with Lyla. And we never just lay around and kissed afterward. Laurel had things to do, places to be.
When Lyla finally pulls away and climbs off the bed, I’m ready to get on my knees and beg her to come back.
“Where are you going?” I ask instead as I stare at her sweet, sexy ass.
“Bathroom,” she says over her shoulder. “And I’m bringing back the baby oil.”
“Hell yes,” I reply.
“Maybe you can finish on me here?” She turns around and runs a finger down the center of her chest, right between her tits.
Taking myself in my hand, I stroke up and down, loving how she watches every move with hungry eyes. “Hurry up, because I can’t fucking wait.”
“Yes, sir,” she says, those two submissive words making me even harder.
This is without a doubt the best night ever.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Lyla
After I got on my knees on my bedroom floor and jerked Barrett off, he came on my chest, then crawled back onto the mattress and fell right asleep. With a smile on his face, I might proudly add.
While I’m a little sore between my legs and my jaw aches, it was all well worth it.
Best. First time. Ever.
I can’t wait to call my best friend, Holly, and tell her I finally lost my virginity.
First, though, I need to use the restroom and clean up the house. Oh, and discard the condom from earlier by covering it and the wrapper in toilet paper so it’s not obvious if my dad looks in my bathroom trash can.
My dress and bra are still strewn in the hallway, along with my necklace, so I pick them up and take them to the clothes to the hamper in the laundry room. I had considered throwing the dirty dress away because I didn’t want the reminder of Laurel’s wedding or the creepy guy I thought I saw before I fell. But Barrett turned my entire night around.
Maybe I should tell him the truth when he wakes up, that I thought someone was following me.
It’ll be hours before my dad or grandma come home, but just in case, I gather up Barrett’s clothes, put away the baby oil, and close the bathroom window.
Barrett is still asleep in my bed, buck naked, curled up on his side, and clutching a pillow, when I get back to my room, but I’m still wide-awake.
I stretch out beside him, admiring every curve of his handsome face, every single short hair in his neatly trimmed beard, his dark eyelashes.
His brownish-blond hair is mussed from my fingers, making him go from badass and sexy as hell with all of his dark tattoos to simply being adorable.
I’m not sure how long I sit there staring at him before the mechanical churning sound of the garage door opening snaps me out of it. As if there was any doubt, it’s followed by the familiar grumbly sound of a motorcycle engine.
Shit!
I shake Barrett’s shoulder. “Barrett! Barrett, wake up. My dad’s home.”
That has him startling awake, eyes flying open. He tries to roll out of bed, but a foot gets caught in the rumpled sheets, so he lands on the floor with a loud thump.
“Ow.”
Running around the bed to check on him, I find him sitting up, rubbing his hip. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. Find my clothes while I try to get the window up?”
I spin around to grab the pile of clothes I put on the dresser, ready to hand them over as soon as he gets the window up. Which he, of course, is strong enough to do in seconds while I struggled with no luck.
“No screen. Good,” he says as he turns to me and snatches his jeans to pull them up his legs. He shoves his socks into his pockets and feet into his boots. His shirt and biker cut are still outside the bathroom window, which I’m sure he won’t forget.
When he’s done dressing, he looks at me for a second, then says, “Thank you for tonight.”
“I’m really glad you stayed,” I tell him rather than say he’s welcome for the sex, blowjob, and baby oil boob/hand job.
“Me too. I felt like myself tonight for the first time in as long as I can remember.”
I smile at his words. He leans forward, giving me a quick kiss on the cheek, before jumping out the window.
As soon as he’s gone, I miss him. Which is stupid since he was only here for a few hours. It just felt like it was longer.
I’m more than a little disappointed that he didn’t ask to see me again at any point when we were making out or recovering. Maybe he would have if he hadn’t been in such a hurry. Besides, he has my number from when we had lunch the other day.