Long Ball(54)

And then I see it. The word Trust stands starkly in black, all alone on the left side of his ribs just below his heart. I reach up and trace it with my callused fingertips. It’s like a message to give in and do this and it’s all okay.

He grabs my wrist and brings my hand to his mouth, kissing my palm, nipping my finger with a wicked grin. “What does my bad girl want now?”

I hesitate, not sure I can say what I really want—that I want him naked. I want him inside me. “I want to see more of you,” I manage.

He slides off the bed and stands. “Then take off my pants.”

Before self-consciousness can catch up, I sit up, throwing my legs over the edge of the bed, and comply, all too aware of his body heat, of the scent of him. Musky and citrusy, and something else that makes my mouth water and my fingers clumsy in their haste to get his jeans off.

His erection makes the front of his bright red boxer briefs tent out toward me.

“I can’t decide if I want your hair loose and wild”—he reaches behind me and winds my hair around his hand and pulls—“or if I should take you from behind using this ponytail to guide you on my cock.”

My shocked inhalation leaves me in a moan. If I wasn’t wet before, that’s done it. At the same time, I’m completely wracked with nerves. I’ve given blowjobs before—twice. Once for each of the men I’ve slept with. Since neither of them ever wanted a repeat, I have a feeling I’m not that good at them. Thinking about doing it with Dylan, I’m already humiliated, and I consider telling him that I…that I what? Don’t want to? Because that’s a lie—I do want to. I want to feel the power of being able to make a man feel good with just my mouth and my tongue. I want to know that confidence.

Dylan unwinds my scarf, lifting it over my head. “Are you ready for me?”

“I….” The minute I attempt to pleasure him, he’ll know. He’ll realize how inexperienced I am. He’ll laugh. He’ll leave.

So I decide to be honest in as few words as possible. “Teach me?”

His eyes widen in surprise, and I think that maybe he assumes I’ve never done this before, which is close enough to the truth. But then they darken and his lip curls up in a wicked smile. “Yes. I’ll teach you, Rachel. I’ll teach you how to make me feel good. I’ll teach you how to be bad. Would you like that?”

I nod because I can’t speak.

“Such a naughty girl.” His tone is low and it makes my core pulse. I press my thighs together, and he shakes his head, spreading my knees again, standing in between them.

He moves my hands to the waistband of his underwear. His skin is smooth and warm on the backs of my fingers as I slide the boxer briefs down over his large penis.

Not penis.

Cock. Long, thick cock.

My heart is pounding in my chest, and

I lick my lips and bend, tentatively licking the bottom of the head.

“Good girl.” He slides the elastic from my hair and grabs a handful, but he leaves enough slack for me to stay in control. “Now, suck me in your mouth.”

His directive is such a turn-on, eclipsing my nervousness. I ease the large tip past my lips, careful not to drag my teeth, circling my tongue across the bottom of the shaft slowly at first, but faster when he moans.

God, he’s big. I’m not even sure I can fit him in my mouth.

As if reading my mind, he says, “Use your hand.”

I circle my palm around his base and look up to him for approval. When he nods, I take him deeper inside my mouth, my lips moving down him until they meet my fist. Then I release him to the point where only the head is in my mouth before sliding down again.

He moans again, and my core clenches.

Heat turns to throbbing between my legs and I suck him deeper until I almost gag, so I pull back a bit and try again. And again.

“Christ, Rachel.” His fingers tighten in my hair, and I make a yelping sound that reverberates along his shaft.

He groans, and I want to smile but my lips are busy. His other hand settles on my head and he holds me still. “Look at me, baby.” His hips take over, pumping at the pace he likes, f*cking my mouth. “Look at me, baby.”

I peer up at him. His face is flushed, brow furrowed, but his eyes could melt my panties right off my body. I’d be scared of someone wanting me this much—if I wasn’t faint with need for him as well. And I’m the one making him feel this. My chest swells with pride that rivals the ache of desire in my belly.

He continues to thrust into me as I watch him, and when I learn his rhythm, he eases his hold on my hair and lets me take over again. He seems to grow even harder under my tongue, his tip hitting the very back of my mouth on every stroke in, and just as I start to wonder if he’s close, he pulls back on my hair, stopping me.

“That’s so good, but if you keep this up, I’m going to be done. And I’m not ready to be done.”

I’m not ready to be done either. I give the hole at his tip an experimental little swirl with my tongue, tasting his saltiness, before slowly releasing him.

I’m still glowing in the warmth of his praise when he reaches around and undoes my bra with one hand. He tosses it away with the other, and, instinctually, I bring my arms up to cover myself. The lights are on, for Pete’s sake, and we’ve just met. I feel awkward and shy and I’m sure my average B-cup breasts are not what he’s accustomed too.