I blinked until the meaning hit me and then I definitely turned red because my face felt like it was on fire. “You know they don’t, right? My hair is actually bright, fiery red but I put dark auburn lowlights in it to make it darker because I hate it.”
“You dye your hair?” He reached out for a strand, curling it around his fingers. “I’d like to see the natural color.”
I shook my head. “I hate it. Not happening.”
“Okay. Your hair, your choice.” He used his thumb to stroke one of my nipples. “Second thing I wanted to talk about—ass play. I know you were a little uncomfortable, so let’s table that until you’re ready. I want you to enjoy our time together, not worry about whether or not I’m going to try something you’re not prepared for.”
I was so tired of blushing, but equally grateful he was vocalizing all these things that stressed me out. “Thank you,” I whispered. “I’m definitely not experienced like you.” I paused. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Anything.”
“What did you mean by ‘we’re not sharing this one’ when you said that to Ford at breakfast?”
“Well.” He seemed to be thinking about how to word what he was going to say. “Look, I don’t want you to feel weird, but I’ve been a touring rock musician with a shitload of success for over a decade. I’ve done a lot of crazy shit with both girlfriends and groupies. This last tour, Ford and I started…sharing. We’d find one or two women who wanted to be with us, and we both did her. Or them. Sometimes at the same time, and sometimes if there were two of them, we’d switch out. We did not do each other, though. In case you were wondering.”
I nodded. “So, uh, when you did them together…does that mean…” I met his gaze. “I mean, did you…”
“Yeah, one of us in the front, one in the back. Hence my love of anal. But not all the time. Frankly, there’s a lot of friction when you do it that way, and it gets me off pretty quick, which I don’t like. I want the woman I’m with to get off first so if we get to a point where you want to try anal, we’ll work up to it, okay? It’s pretty far down on my list of things I like in bed.”
“What, uh, what’s number one?” I asked, lifting my chin.
“Oral. Duh.”
“Giving or receiving?”
He smiled. “Both.”
“But if you had to number them, your favorite and next favorite.”
“Receiving. I mean, come on? Who doesn’t want to receive?”
“I’ve never done it,” I whispered.
14
Bash
* * *
“You’ve never given a blow job?” That didn’t surprise me at all.
“No.” She shook her head. “I mean, yes, I have. What I meant was, I’ve never been on the receiving end.”
I stared. “No one’s ever gone down on you?”
“Most of the guys in my life have been pretty tame and…now that I know better, selfish.”
“Well, honey, that ends now.”
“I have to be at the restaurant at four.”
I laughed. “That’s not for four more hours. I can go down on you more than once between now and when you have to leave.”
“I should shower first. I worked last night and got really sweaty.”
“I don’t mind sweaty, but we can shower together. And then I have a fabulous idea for after we’re all squeaky clean.”
She yelped when I scooped her up in my arms and carried her into the master bathroom. The tiled shower was ten square feet and had eight showerheads on three walls. The water pressure was spectacular and there were times I stayed in here for thirty or forty minutes.
“This is wonderful,” she said, stepping under the spray after we’d shed our clothes.
“One of my favorite rooms in the whole place.”
“I’ve never been in a two-story condo,” she said, letting the water run over her hair.
I reached out to palm her ass, drawing her against me. “I haven’t even shown you around yet. I have a soundproof studio downstairs so I can write, record, and play drums without disturbing the neighbors.”
“Really? That sounds awesome.” She looked around. “But do you have shampoo and conditioner?”
“I do.” I handed her a bottle. “Here. Let me.”
I washed her hair and watched goose bumps break out on her skin. I massaged her scalp with my fingers and she sighed with what I was pretty sure was pleasure. She leaned up against me as I rinsed out the shampoo, giving me a wonderful view of the swell of her breasts. I’d fucked her half a dozen times already, but it felt like the first time all over again. Those other times had somehow been practice, a prelude to the real thing.
She put conditioner in her hair and I nudged her toward the built-in bench along one wall. “Sit,” I told her. “And spread your legs for me.”
Her eyes widened as I kneeled between her thighs.
“Declan…” Her voice was breathy as I leaned in.
“Don’t think,” I said. “Just feel.”
I reached out to touch her, my fingers separating her soft, pink folds. I knew what they felt like around my cock, but not what they tasted like, and I lowered my head, nibbling softly. I started with the crease along the inside of her hip and ran my tongue along the inside of her thigh. I’d heard about guys who didn’t like giving oral, but it was mind-boggling to me. I loved how women tasted, sliding my tongue inside of them and watching them squirm. Hell, I hadn’t gotten that far yet and Bri was already squirming, her thighs tightening around the outside of my shoulders. I had no doubt she was going to love this and I used the tip of my tongue to slip between her folds, flicking gently around the outside of her clit.
“Oh god…” Her voice was rich and husky, and one hand dug into my hair.
I kissed and nibbled further down, sucking on the tender skin between her legs before licking a trail from her clit to her ass. She gasped and arched right into my face so I caught her by the ass to make sure she didn’t fall off the bench, and started tongue-fucking her.
“Declan!” Her shriek and the way her thighs tightened even harder told me she was close, and I closed my lips around her clit.
I bit down gently and slowly increased pressure until she screamed. Her entire body went rigid as her chest arched and her grip tightened in my hair. It was fucking beautiful. She was fucking beautiful and I really liked having her in my shower, my bed, my life. Now if I could just convince her of that.
“Holy fuck, that was…” She was panting. “I don’t know if there are words for what that was.”
“And it’s only going to get better.” I got up and held out my hands to her.
“What does that mean?” she asked.
“Let’s finish doing our hair and then I’ll show you.” She was going to love sixty-nine. I felt it in my bones.
She rinsed the conditioner from her hair while I washed my own, and then we rinsed off together before getting out. I wrapped a big, fluffy towel around her and towel-dried my hair while she combed out the tangles in hers.