Deeper (Caroline & West #1)(87)

When she finally pulls her mouth away, I’m hard again, and she’s squirmy, pressing herself into me.

She starts to kiss her way down my chest.

“Let me get you off,” I say.

“I promised.”

I can only see the top of her head, and I can’t tell if she means that funny or serious.

“You don’t have to,” I remind her.

“Shh.” She takes her time getting down there, and the way she does it … Jesus. All those shy glances, somehow I got thinking she didn’t know what she was doing, but by the time she puts her tongue on my cock, one quick swirl around the head, I’m already half dead.

“Tease,” I choke out.

She grins. Sticks out that pointed pink tongue of hers. Licks me clean.

I keep my hands fisted in the blankets so I won’t put them in her hair. Caroline and me have messed around a lot, but tonight’s different, and I don’t want to f*ck it up. Traumatize her or whatever. She can do whatever she wants to me, but I’m not going to push her.

It’s f*cking hard, though. To keep still. To keep from showing her exactly what I want her to do to me. She wraps her fingers around the base of my cock, and there’s this spot where she could put pressure and doesn’t. She licks and sucks the underside where I’m so sensitive, but she flicks right over the place beneath the head that makes me insane.

I give up on the blankets and rub my hands over her shoulders, up her neck, into her hair. Not clutching at her, though it takes a monumental effort not to. Just touching her.

She cups my balls, but her fingers are so gentle, her mouth so … polite. It’s nice.

It’s good.

She lifts up her head. Crawls up until she’s a couple of inches from my face. “Hey.”

“What?”

“You don’t come with a guidebook. Tell me what you want.”

“You’re doing great.”

I jerk off the bed before I understand why. She pinched my nipple, twisted it. Not in a cute way.

“The f*ck? That hurt!”

“Tell me what you want.”

Her eyes are intent, her mouth set in this no-nonsense line. She looks like classroom Caroline, sure of herself, ticked at me for keeping her from completing this lesson to her satisfaction.

I love her like this.

“Suck me,” I say. “Hard.”

She smiles this little smile. Totally satisfied with herself. “Thank you.” Her head drops down again. “Now, keep talking to me, or I’m going to drive home and you’ll be all alone with your right hand. Or is it your left, since you’re left-handed?”

I don’t think I’m supposed to answer the question. Not when she’s crawling down my body, ass in the air. I want my hands on that ass. Get her turned around, * in my face, dripping all over me while she sucks me off.

I’ve said shit like that to her on the phone, when I was too far gone to stop myself, safe because I was a couple thousand miles from her. But it’s different to think about saying it to her face. Does she like that, or does she just put up with it? Where do girls like Caroline draw the line?

When she wraps her hand around me, I reach down, show her where to pull the skin tight. “Here.”

She takes over. Then she’s licking me again, flicking her tongue over the head, sucking me into her mouth. Sucking hard.

“Jesus f*cking Christ.”

She pops me out of her mouth long enough to say, “That’s more like it.”

There are no girls like Caroline. Just Caroline.

She’s more than enough.

She sucks me, licks me, tongues me in the spot I show her until I’m lifting off the bed, my legs stiff, my dick so hard I can’t possibly last. When she goes for my balls this time, I show her where to stroke behind them, where to press—oh, f*ck, she’s a quick study.

“Turn around,” I say, but I’m not sure she understands me. Not sure I can make words that actually come out sounding like English.

“Caroline. I—can you—gnuh.”

“Eh?” she teases.

I sit up, grab under her arms, haul her up my body. Her lips are shining, wet, and I kiss her, get my tongue inside her, get my hand in her panties and my fingers into her slickness. She’s slippery, soaking. God damn.

She moans into my mouth. “West.”

“Turn around,” I tell her.

“What?”

“Turn around. Get your hips up here”—I tug her toward my face—“and your mouth back down there.”

“That’s … Can’t we just have sex now?”

For a second I’m dumbfounded. When I manage to gather a few brain cells together, I say, “Honey, we are having sex.”

Her cheeks are already pink, but now they turn red. Which is hilarious. I mean, I’ve got my fingers inside her, she’s riding my hand, still moving in this soft up-and-down even as we’re talking, hair all loose around her shoulders, f*cking beautiful—and now she’s going to get shy on me?

“What did you think this was?” I ask.

“I know. I mean, yes, I’ve heard Quinn’s sex-doesn’t-have-to-include-a-dick lecture, too. But I meant, you know, were we going to have sex sex. Penis-in-vagina sex. Sex.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Penis-in-vagina sex?”