The Spiral Down (The Fall Up #2)(36)

He took a step forward, backing me toward the couch. “Everything. Repeatedly.”

I gave his hair a pointed yank and gripped his jaw so he had no choice but to look me in the eyes. “I’m serious.”

He pressed against my chest, backing me toward the couch. “So am I. Now, sit.”

Unmoving, I glared my reminder.

“Oh, right. Evan.”

I collapsed onto the couch, watching intently as his hand slowly made it down to the tent at the front of his towel. He rubbed his hidden length, and I felt it as though it were my own.

“I should warn you, Evan. My balls might be purple after the torture you’ve put me through tonight.”

The corner of my mouth twitched.

He licked his lips in response. “I f*cking love when your lips do that, but it’s only making things…harder.” With one flick of his wrist, his towel was gone. His heavy erection bobbed before he caught the shaft and gave it a quick tug.

My body thrummed and my mouth watered to taste him, but that was one rule I wasn’t okay with breaking. At least, not yet.

He jutted his chin toward the raging hard-on battling for a way out of my pants. “Your turn.”

My gaze lifted from his hand slowly sliding up his steely rod and caught the victorious glint dancing in his eyes. I was in way over my head. I could feel it in my bones. My need and desire for him made me completely out of control.

“Casual sex. Nothing more,” I said, doing my best to ignore his arm pumping in my peripheral vision.

He shrugged nonchalantly. “Works for me.”

Shit. Why does that hurt? Yet another thing I didn’t understand.

I was going to need more protection—more rules.

“You don’t f*ck me.” I moved my hands down to hover over my button, waiting for his confirmation.

He frowned. “Not even in the mouth?”

“Not at all.”

“Fine,” he huffed. “Are your rules done? Can you please just get naked and be easy for once.”

My lips twitched in response to his eagerness. Suddenly, I was in the mood to be easy too.

Pushing to my feet, I crowded his space. And then I uttered the four words I hadn’t said to a man in almost a decade.

“Get on your knees.”





I REALLY WAS a whore, because my knees hit the floor before the final syllable had cleared his lips. Just as quickly, my hands were at his zipper, and then I was pushing his pants down his thighs until his all-but-concrete dick popped free.

He hadn’t even stepped out of his jeans before I wrapped my mouth around the head.

“Fuck,” he groaned, threading his fingers into the top of my hair.

I circled my fingers around his substantial shaft and slid him from my mouth. I desperately wanted to see what I was working with. I’d been staring at the sizable bulge in his pants for most of the night. He was large. It perfectly fit his massive frame. I might have had him on length, but I paled in comparison to his girth.

I glanced up, fully expecting his eyes to be closed, as I slid him back into my mouth. Straight guys rarely turned a blowie down, but they didn’t like to watch. Not Evan though. He was staring down at me with feral intensity brewing in the depths of his blue eyes.

He wanted a show, and luckily, I loved to perform.

I released him from my mouth and jerked several fast strokes, twisting and tugging until a bead of precome appeared—f*cking perfection glistening on the tip. Then I held his gaze as I laved it with my tongue, moaning when the saltiness registered on my taste buds.

His fingers tensed in my hair, halting any further movement.

I couldn’t stop now, no matter what kind of second thoughts he was having.

“Just let me do this, Evan. I swear it—”

“Oh, I’m not trying to stop you. I’m trying to give myself a second so I don’t blow my load on stroke number three.” He smiled down at me and finished with, “Henry.”

I could have blown my load without a single touch for no other reason than he used my name.

He might have been confused and fighting it. But he was still with me. It wasn’t a woman he was imagining at his feet. It was me. And, for that reason, I was going to give him the best blow job of his life—one he would still remember as he took his last breath.

Because, with just one simple word, he’d given that to me too.

Sliding him as deep as I could, I began working him with newfound fervor. I alternated between fast and hard, fisting his cock and sucking the head to the point I was sure it toed the fine line between pain and ecstasy. When I felt his shaft swell with impending release, I let up, switching to slow and soft. My tongue circled his angry crown before tracing up the vein running from base to tip. Squeezing on each upstroke, I forced more of his arousal from his slit.

Each time, I sought his gaze before lazily licking it off.

And, each time, Evan would reward me with something different.

“Henry,” he whispered.

“Henry,” he groaned.

“Henry,” he cursed.

“Henry,” he cried.

My name filled his every emotion.

And that filled me in places I hadn’t known were empty.

When his legs began to shake, I slowly inched him back toward the couch then lowered my attention to the sensitive flesh just under his heavy sac—flicking it with my tongue. His knees buckled on contact, sending him crashing down. I gave him exactly zero seconds to recover before resuming my assault.