Reluctantly Yours(68)

Barrett’s eyes are lit with something else now. He looks like the cat who ate the canary, or in this case, the man who is going to eat me.

“Wait,” I say, even though Barrett hasn’t moved an inch. I feel like the kid on the diving board who is about to get pushed off but wants to stand there just a little bit longer to overanalyze and freak themselves out. I hated that part of swimming lessons. I get why I needed to learn to swim, but if I found myself randomly on the end of a diving board, I could simply walk back to the ladder. I didn’t have to learn to dive.

“Chloe, I’m about to drill a hole through my pants just thinking about tasting you. I want it that bad.”

My gaze drops to Barrett’s lap. He’s not lying. Beneath the denim fabric, I can see the large bulge there.

“Yeah?”

He nods.

“Stand up, Chloe.”

In the past an order like that from Barrett would warrant a mouthy comeback and an eyeroll, but right now I like bossy Barrett. His authority on this particular matter is comforting, and it gives me the courage to stand, albeit on shaky legs. Barrett’s hands move to my hips. The heat from his palms sear through the fabric of my leggings as he cups my ass. His thumbs stroke my hip bones and he pulls me closer to him. Those magnificent fingers of his edge into my waist band, pulling it down an inch to expose my stomach. Barrett leans forward, placing his lips on the skin above my waistband. My stomach quivers. He lifts his eyes to mine and I’m dead. Even if he were to stop right now, it would be the most satisfying sexual encounter of my life. That’s a little depressing, but the fact that he’s going to keep going, that there’s more, is beyond thrilling. My legs are jelly, I can’t move, yet I think I’m going to fall. There needs to be a warning. Do not operate heavy machinery (aka my legs) while under the influence of Barrett St. Clair’s touch. Barrett senses my distress and shifts me to stand by the couch. In one swift movement, he’s slipping my leggings and underwear off yet he also manages to lay me on the couch. Or I might have collapsed. Either way I’m better now that I’m horizontal. Except Barrett is staring between my legs and it makes me feel naked. Because I am, but also, I’m feeling vulnerable.

“I’m going to collect my winnings now.” He says it so enthusiastically, like eating me out is going to be the highlight of his day.

Barrett’s dropping between my thighs and I’m that kid on the diving board again, nervous to take that leap. I’m about to take the chicken exit—back to the ladder I go—when Barrett’s hot mouth descends on me. Maybe he knew anymore lead up would only make me more jittery, or maybe he’s just fucking starving, but I don’t have time to analyze because the moment his mouth is on me my hips jerk and my core clamps down tight.

I can’t see his mouth but if I had to clock its movements it would go something like this.

Swirl.

Lick.

Suck.

Teeth graze.

Suck harder.

Repeat.

With that punishing rhythm it’s not going to take long for me to come.

Another sensation I had no idea would feel this good…Barrett’s late day stubble scraping along my inner thigh. His hands are pressing my legs open, but I have the urge to wrap my legs around his head and ride his face. Why had I been so intimidated by this before? The lack of enthusiasm from guys I’ve dated in the past was a major factor, but with every gratifying lick, Barrett is quickly putting my insecurity to rest.

“Do you know how gorgeous your pussy is?” he asks, as he uses his fingers to spread me open. Oh, Jesus.

“Hmm?” I’m barely lucid.

“I’m the only man who has tasted it.” It’s a fact that Barrett seems to take great pride in as he worships me with his tongue.

He licks the length of me.

“And it’s so fucking sweet.” He looks up from between my thighs and our eyes connect. His lips glistening with my arousal. Just when I think I can’t possibly be more turned on, he grins like the devil and says, “It’s mine now.”

He’s a kid with an ice cream cone that refuses to share. Barrett’s possessive talk only coils the tension in my belly tighter. I can feel my orgasm climbing. A rollercoaster climbing to the top. He slides one long finger inside me and I’m done.

“Oh, God. Barrett. Yes,” I say breathless. “I’m coming.”

I cry out as my hips jerk off the couch and my legs clamp around Barrett’s head. He’s going to die, I’m going to strangle him with my legs, but I can’t stop. It’s too good.

When I can breathe again and my heart isn’t going to leave my chest, I open my eyes to find Barrett still between my legs, gently prying them open.

“Oh, no. Did I suffocate you?”

“I’m fine. But it wouldn’t have been a bad way to go.” He grins.

He emphasizes this by sucking his finger into his mouth. The one that was inside me and is now covered in my juices. Sweet Jesus.

I want to be embarrassed, but Barrett’s unabashed desire to taste me and the aftereffects of my orgasm leave me craving more. That and I can see his erection pressing against the zipper of his pants.

“Take this off.” I claw with my nails at his shirt. The post orgasmic brain-altering chemicals floating around my body have taken over. “I want you naked. I want your cock in my mouth.” Who am I right now?