“Lesson three.” He unzipped my jeans and shimmied them down my legs. “If he tells you he can’t stop thinking about the way you taste and needs to find out if it was really as good as he remembers, beware.”
“Beware of what?” I asked as he took me by the hips and backed me up to his desk.
“His motives.” Henry lifted me up and set me on the edge of the desk, pushing my thighs apart and dropping to his knees. “They are likely nefarious.”
“Nefarious?” Then I gasped when his tongue swept across my clit.
“Yes.” He did it again, one long, slow stroke that made my entire body shiver. “He just wants to fuck you with his tongue.”
I fell back onto my elbows and moaned as he tantalized me. “He does?”
“Yes. But also with his cock.”
“Good,” I said, barely able to speak. “Because I heard he’s got a big dick.”
“He does. And it’s getting bigger by the minute.”
I laughed, my head falling back as he hooked his arms beneath my thighs and pulled me closer to his mouth. My toes curled as he plunged his tongue inside me. He devoured me like he’d been starving for me. He licked and stroked and sucked and caressed me with his tongue, moaning as if I was the most delicious thing he’d ever tasted. He told me he couldn’t get enough. He made me believe it was true.
After he made me come with his mouth, he jumped to his feet and unbuckled his belt. “Let me,” I panted, unbuttoning and then unzipping his jeans. I reached for his cock and it burst from his boxer briefs as if it had been freed from its cage. He groaned as I sheathed it with both hands, working them up and down his hot, hard length. “Take off your shirt,” I demanded. “I want to feel your skin on mine.”
A minute later, he was pushing inside me, my legs wrapped around him, his hands gripping my hips to hold me steady. I grabbed on to his thick, muscular shoulders, digging my fingers into his skin. He lifted me off the desk and put my back against the door, driving his cock deep inside me with quick, powerful thrusts. I winced as my head banged against the wood.
But it felt so good to be the object of this raging lust inside him—to inspire this aching need to ravish me so completely. He buried himself even deeper and stayed there, grinding against me, bringing me right back to the edge of another orgasm.
Breathing hard, he tipped his forehead to mine. “You feel too fucking good. I have to slow down.”
“No, don’t stop,” I begged, circling my hips. “I want you to come.”
A growl erupted from the back of his throat as he resumed his quick, hard rhythm, my back pounding against the door. All the muscles in my lower body clenched up tight as I reached the peak and stayed there for a moment, suspended, heart racing, eyes closed, breath stopped—until I felt his cock surge and throb inside me, pushing me past the breaking point. His lips hovered close to mine and we shared a breath as our bodies surrendered to one powerful, all-consuming pulse.
This, I thought to myself, as chills swept across my skin. This is what it’s supposed to feel like. This is what I’ve been missing. This is what I want.
Was there any possible way I could have it for keeps?
After we got dressed, Henry did spend some time showing me around the winery, telling me what all the equipment was for, describing what wines were in each group of barrels or tanks, showing off the recently purchased bottling line. “But the most important thing coming up for me is the pruning,” he said as we stood by the huge windows in the tasting room that overlooked the vineyard. “The quality of any vintage can be dictated by how well we prune, and we do it all by hand.”
I hid a smile. “I’ve heard it’s an art form.”
He threw an arm around me, getting me in an affectionate headlock. “Are you making fun of the teacher?”
“I would never,” I said, laughing as he squeezed me tight. “Not after such an enjoyable class, although I’m not sure I learned all my lessons. I might need a review session.”
“That can definitely be arranged—maybe even tonight.” He loosened his hold on me just enough for me to turn and face him.
“I wish I could,” I said, running my hands up his chest, “but I have to head back. In fact, I wasn’t even sure I should come tonight. I almost canceled.”
“Why?”
I shook my head. “Just some stuff with Whitney.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
I played with one of the buttons on his shirt. “I don’t want to bore you with my problems. I feel like I’m always complaining to you.”
“Stop.” He lifted my chin. “You never bore me. And it’s not complaining—I asked. Is everything okay?”
“She’s okay. She just broke a rule I have about social media—she’s not allowed to have it, but I found out that she created an Instagram account and posted a bunch of pictures of herself.”
He looked slightly terrified. “What kind of pictures?”
“Nothing risqué. Mostly just her face in full makeup, lots of pouting selfies. And her bio said something like, ‘I’m just a girl who wants to feel beautiful.’”
“Oh.”
“But it won’t help to have her mother scream at her that she is beautiful.”
“Probably not.”
“I know it’s nothing a million other teenage girls aren’t doing, but I don’t like it. And I hate that she’s hiding it from me. I want her to feel like she can talk to me about anything.”
“Are you thinking this has something to do with the divorce? Like she’s acting out to get your attention?”
“No, I don’t think it’s that. I think it’s more like . . . like she’s lacking something and she thinks likes on Instagram are going to deliver it. The divorce left this giant hole in all of us where our family used to be, and we’re all trying to deal with it in different ways. Whitney’s trying to cover it with makeup, Keaton is trying to stuff it with junk food, and I’m . . .” I groped for words.
“Trying to fill it with a big dick?” He frowned. “Sorry, that was totally inappropriate.”
I laughed. “But not entirely inaccurate. I do think what we’re doing is helping me get over some of my issues. But I’m an adult. Whitney is still a child. And she’s in such a fragile state right now, one mean comment might destroy her. And people can be horrible on social media. I just want to protect her.”
Henry pulled me in close and held me tight. “I know. And I shouldn’t make jokes. You guys have been through so much.”
I rested my cheek on his chest and wrapped my arms around his waist, wishing I could take the warm strength of his embrace with me when I left here tonight. “Thanks for being here for me. I really appreciate it.”
“You’re welcome. You’ll figure this out. Whitney doesn’t strike me as the type to use defiance as a weapon.”
“She isn’t. She’s a good girl. I think she’s more . . . insecure than defiant.” I took a breath. “And I get that. God, do I get that.”
He rubbed my back but didn’t say anything.