The First Taste(26)

He runs his hand up to my scalp, grabs a fistful of my hair, and draws back. “You want to play boss for a little bit? Fine. I’ll let you.”

“You’ll let me?” I ask, doing my best to look down at him as he holds me in a tight grip.

“Sure. It could be fun to watch.”

I grit my teeth and stop moving. I’ll show him how fun it can be to do what I say. “There’re condoms in my nightstand. Go get one.”

In one motion, he stands, lifting me with him. “Yes, boss,” he says before setting me on the bathroom counter.

As he walks into the bedroom, his towel loosens and falls off. He leaves it. His ass is tight and tanned, as if he regularly does naked squats outdoors. My mouth waters.

I hop off the counter and follow him into the bedroom, where he’s stooped over my nightstand’s open drawer. He picks out a condom and holds it up.

“Leave it for now,” I say. “You won’t need it to eat me out.”

He straightens, arching an eyebrow at me. I open my towel and drop it on the floor. He takes a step toward me, but I say, “Stop.”

“Why?”

“Just seeing if you can follow orders.”

By the way he clenches his jaw and swallows, I can tell he wants to take over. I level my gaze on him, and he stays where he is.

“I have ideas,” he says.

I hesitate. Andrew is used to getting his way. So was Reggie. A few times, toward the end of our relationship, he even intimidated me into sex. I let him. He abused his control. I need to know Andrew can stop himself, no matter how badly he wants to be in charge.

“I’ve eaten a * or two in my time,” he says. “Have you?”

“No,” I admit.

“Then consider that a special skill of mine. A good boss knows when to delegate.”

I have to admit, he can negotiate. Just the thought of him between my legs is enough to weaken my resolve. I concede. “A good boss also knows how to take suggestions.”

“Great.” He comes around the bed and sits on the edge before pulling me to him by my wrist. “I suggest you sit on my face.”

My heart thumps. I want control, but with every sentence from him, my knees quiver harder. “I think . . .”

“Yes?” he prompts, his eyes gleaming. He knows exactly what he’s doing to me.

“I think your idea is feasible.”

He quirks the corner of his mouth and scoots back to the head of the bed. I go with him, crawling down the mattress until I’m straddling his thighs. For a moment, I’m tempted to skip to the f*cking, but then he licks his lips, and my thoughts are reduced to how his mouth will feel on me.

He puts his hands on my hips—a suggestion, not an order. I feel the restraint in his grip. I inch forward, grab onto the headboard and lower myself onto his mouth. He hums, vibrating the space around me, but doesn’t lick me.

“I wonder how you’ll taste,” he says, inhaling. “Perhaps like apricot bubble bath?”

My thighs tremble. “Try me.”

“I will.”

“Now.”

He kisses me right between the lips. “Like that?”

“It’s a start.”

He licks along my slit. “Better?”

“Better,” I say. My knuckles are white from gripping the headboard. “But not quite there.”

“Mmm.” A few tense, anticipatory moments pass. “So am I hired?” he asks.

Through gritted teeth, I say, “Yes, you’re f*cking hired, now please just eat my *.”

“Yes, boss.” He grabs me by the ass cheeks, pulls me onto him, and sucks my clit into his mouth.

I throw my head back. “Oh . . . my G—”

He spreads me apart with his hands and thrusts his tongue inside me. I squirm, trying to pull back because it feels too good, but he secures me against his mouth. I dig my fingernails into the wood, undulating over him. When he reaches around to play with my clit, I arch backward, overwhelmed by the assault. “Wait,” I cry.

He slaps my ass and goes at me harder. My eyes cross. The words I try to form are barely squeaks. I want him inside me when I come, but he’s so relentless, I’m already on the verge. I do my best to distract myself to stave off my orgasm.

New York Fashion Week is only five months away. That’s twenty—I squeak—weeks!

Pantone announced two colors of the year for the first time—Rose Quartz and Serenity.

I hate the word quartz, and the word quirky—apparently, I’m not a fan of “Q”.

But I like quirky things.

Man Repeller’s Instagram feed is quirky, and I adore Leandra Medine . . .

Not as much as I adore Andrew’s tongue shoved up my—

My thighs shake so hard, if I weren’t holding myself up by the headboard, I’d drop down and suffocate him. This isn’t working. “Stop, wait,” I plead. “Don’t make me come.”

“Don’t make you come?” he asks, breathing hotly against my swollen lips.

“Not yet.”

Andrew slows, loosening his grip. If he was f*cking me with his mouth before, now he makes love to my *. When he moans, I feel it everywhere. It’s not helping. Gentle or rough, he knows how to work me.

I pull his hands away from my hips and climb off his face toward the nightstand to get the condom.