“I know.” Tennessee sat up straighter in bed. “Trust me, my parents and sister would kill me a hundred times over if they find out I touched a hair on your golden head. Plus, I’m super damaged. There’s no way I could handle a relationship. I have a lot to lose, too.”
“And then there’s Rob,” I added, dropping the towel and advancing toward the bed, my junk safely covered by the briefs.
There was no way I was letting Gussman think I’d been pining for his ex-girlfriend for decades. That a small, awful part of me had been glad that he’d screwed off the way he had, because that meant she’d never take him back.
And now he was back and what the fuck did that mean for all of this?
“Yeah. Some friend you are.” Tennessee let out a throaty, sexy laugh. “Don’t worry, I’ll never tell your buddy you’ve sampled my goods.”
She thought I was doing it out of loyalty to him. Well, the real reason—my fragile ego—wasn’t going to win me any personality points, so I decided to keep it to myself.
“Right,” I said, sliding under the covers.
A fresh rush of desire ran through my veins as my body found hers under the blanket. She looked so young without all the makeup and hairspray, I could almost imagine us as teenagers.
My cock, which had absolutely zero business getting up again not even ten minutes after I masturbated, already poked at her stomach between us, lazily swinging itself from side to side as it tried to catch her attention like an eager puppy.
“Holy cheat-balls. That thing’s huge.”
She touched my crown with the tip of her finger through my briefs, before jerking her hand away, like it was going to clamp its jaws on her.
“Seriously, you can put it on a leash and take it for a walk downtown.”
“Don’t you dare make another Weiner joke,” I warned, playing with the hem of her shirt for no reason at all other than the obvious—I had fondling privileges today.
“That thing has a mind of its own.” She lifted a speculative eyebrow, looking down between us. “Can I touch it again?”
You can take it home, put it in an aquarium, and call it Sally if it makes you happy.
“Absolutely. You can pet it, too. Squeeze. Lick. Suck. Fondle. It doesn’t bite, but it does occasionally spit. I’ll give you a heads-up before it does.”
She looked up at me excitedly, her eyes zinging with exhilaration. “There was a pun there, Dr. Cruz. Good job.”
She just talked to me like I was her preschool student.
…and I just plastered a goofy smile on, also like a preschool student.
Her long, pointy fingernails ran down my six-pack to my briefs, making my skin prickle deliciously. She slipped her hand into the fly, jerking my erect cock out like it was a chicken that was about to become her lunch.
I didn’t comment on the lack of finesse. Didn’t want to make her feel self-conscious.
She stroked it gently, mesmerized by it.
She was so fucking beautiful I didn’t know what to do with myself. Having her touch my dick after fourteen years of imagining it happening, did weird things to my chest.
“Is it good for you?” she murmured.
“It was good about three minutes ago, when you were sitting on the bed, simply existing. Now that you’re touching my dick, we are deep into divine territory, spiraling onward.”
I watched her intently.
She flipped the covers off of us so she could take a better look at my dick. She shifted and sat up straight as she played with it, her yellow hair falling across her face like glittering sunrays.
My cock grew more engorged and heavy in her hand. That bastard had its own pulse at this point.
“I’m going to lick it now.”
“Please,” I grumbled, my voice breaking mid-word.
I didn’t even care.
The things I was willing to do in that moment to get her mouth to touch my dick worried me, frankly. Let’s just say Mrs. Warren wasn’t safe from a violent and quick death if Tennessee said the word.
Speaking of the wonderful state, the girl who was named after it lowered her head, holding my cock still as she gave the crown a quick lick.
Stars burst across my vision. I caressed her hair as gently as humanly possible to encourage her. She lowered herself again, her tongue swirling around the crown.
“I’m doing it wrong.” She looked up at me, biting on the side of her lip.
“Sweetheart, even if you danced around it to try to make it rain, it’d still be perfect.”
“I know what I’m supposed to do. I’ve seen enough porn. I just…it’s so big.”
“You don’t have to take the entire thing in. Cover the base with your hand.”
I shepherded her by the wrist, draping her small fist around the root of my shaft. This was so high school, and I was so into it I seriously suspected I’d just unveiled an unexpected kink of mine.
Things had become so boring in bed recently, the Gabriellas and Karens of the world blurring together in a mix of wannabe-porn stars who sought to prove to me that they were the chosen ones, the woman I couldn’t do without.
It never occurred to me that the one I was actually fantasizing about was a woman not acting her way into looking like a pro. A woman who was engrossed in the moment, fully present for the pleasure of it instead of faking it to turn me on.
Refreshing.
Tennessee leaned down, taking some of my cock into her mouth. She gave it a thorough suck before bobbing her head hesitantly to perform oral sex.
As far as giving head went, she had a long way to go, but just the sight of her doing it threw me close to the edge. I was about to come, sitting on this strange bed, watching her suck me off.
Also, I couldn’t stop stroking her hair.
My cock jerked in her mouth, and it was becoming more and more clear I was about to blow my load after three seconds.
“Sweetheart, let me make it good for you, too.” My voice was so thick, it sounded like I’d swallowed a football.
She looked up, a little perplexed.
“It’s not good for you, is it?”
“No. No. It’s great.”
“Then what’s the problem?” She was still holding my dick—hostage, some would say—which wasn’t the best way a man wanted to negotiate his position.
“No problem. You can continue doing what you’re doing.”
“No, tell me.”
“Fine. If you don’t stop sucking my cock, I’m going to come all over that nice oversized shirt of yours, and since it’s new, and since I’m over thirteen, I would very much like it to not happen.”
“Oh.”
“You asked me to tell you.”
“I did. So what else can we do? Now that I’ve learned how to give head.”
She didn’t really know how to give head, but I wasn’t going to correct her. For one thing, it was rude and disheartening. For another, I was already setting up the guy who’d come after me for an awkward conversation, if not complete failure.
I hoped she’d dump him.
Actually, I hoped he’d die before he had the chance to meet her.
I obviously needed therapy.
“There’s a lot we can explore,” I murmured, pushing her backward.
Her head fell on the pillow. I laced my fingers through hers from both sides, pinning her down to the bed, my lips fluttering over her neck.