The Boy and His Ribbon (The Ribbon Duet, #1)(65)

Wrapping my arms around her, I backed her into the tack room wall, pressing her tight and daring to wedge the length of my frame against hers.

She moaned into our kiss, her fingers slipping through my hair as she tugged me closer. Our heads tilted as we deepened the kiss, breathing hard, tasting, and licking—quickly losing propriety in favour of clutching hands and clawing need.

Her hands left my hair, slipping over my shoulders and running down my chest.

I gasped as her touch disappeared up the hem of my t-shirt and fingernails ran along my belly. She tugged the waistband of my shorts, murmuring, “Can I give you a birthday present?”

I could barely speak intelligently when I was of sound body and mind; asking me a question while blood pounded between my legs and my heart acted as if it was in a death metal band made me utterly unable to talk.

“I take your silence as a yes.” Slowly, she dropped to her knees. Her eyes glistened, mouth gleamed, tongue flickered over her bottom lip.

The air prickled around us, full of forbidden danger and illicit taboo. I was playing with fire. I was touching the boss’s daughter, yet really, she was the one touching me.

I trembled as she pulled my shorts and boxers down in one go, freeing me, sending a flush of embarrassment through my blood, and leaving the tight elastic of my underwear clinging to my upper thighs.

Her fingers traced the raised scar tissue from the Mclary brand that I’d never be able to remove. She looked up, eyes full of questions. Questions I would refuse to answer.

She bit her lip, deliberating.

I stopped breathing, waiting.

Then her touch moved away from the mark, slipping to cup around my length.

I jolted with mind-numbing awareness as her fingers pulsed, and her voice trickled into my ears, “Have you had a blowjob before, Ren?”

I gulped, shaking my head like an idiot. I’d always known Cassie was forward and far more worldlier than I was. I’d seen her kiss different boys if she got dropped off from school in muscle cars or dinged up 4WDs. I’d heard her father yell at her not to be so loose, and her mother to scold her on her friendship choices.

Although, nothing seemed to stop her from searching for something, trying new things, and sampling experiences she probably wasn’t ready for.

She’d even told me that I kissed differently to an old boyfriend she’d dated for two weeks a year ago. She made me feel terribly young and stupidly inexperienced.

I didn’t want to be taught these things. I wanted to be able to participate and blow her mind just like she blew mine. But despite her forwardness, she remained sweet and kind, making me worried that one day, she’d be taken advantage of.

She also worried me around Della.

Della was still too young to know what painful passion felt like, brewing constantly in your veins. She believed kisses on the mouth were for unconditional love between anyone—friend, parent, or anyone else who deserved it. She already had older views on body image thanks to Cassie in her bikinis, and I didn’t want her growing up too fast that sleeping in the same bed suddenly went from comforting to downright unpermitted.

She was a kid.

My kid.

And I wanted to keep her that way for as long as possible.

Funny, when I pictured her kissing a boy like I was kissing Cassie, red anger hazed my vision. I’d kill any boy who touched her and didn’t quite know how I’d deal with her when she entered her teenage years.

A flutter of hot breath on my upper thighs was the only warning I had.

My mind shot blank as a tongue met my hard flesh, and my knees threatened to buckle. I slammed one hand against the wall, my other landed in her hair. A grunt escaped me as her tongue came again. My head swam, and I felt nauseous and invincible and fragile and immortal all at the same time.

“I take it this is your first time?” she whispered around my length.

My fingernails dug into the wood and clenched around her hair, holding her tight, not knowing if I was allowed to pull her closer and stop her torture by making her do what she promised.

I managed some sort of non-cohesive reply before her head bent again and that intoxicating puff of air stroked my body.

“Happy Birthday, Ren Wild.” Her voice licked around me just as her mouth sealed hot and tight everywhere.

My head flopped forward.

My oxygen rushed out.

And my body jerked in bliss.

I thought of nothing but the sensation of wet heat and the pulling deep in my belly.

I’d grown wiser than I’d been a few years ago when puberty first started making my life a living nightmare. I’d learned how to shave without bleeding and how to combat unwelcome erections—most of the time.

But I’d never been comfortable making myself orgasm.

Either I was working and didn’t feel right while being paid, or I was in bed beside Della.

Animals didn’t self-pleasure, even if those dirty magazines said men did. The thought of jerking off, touching myself, and searching for that ever-wanted release didn’t seem ethical.

But right here, right now, with a girl sucking me and every single worry deleted, I didn’t care.

I was entirely in her hands.

I was her student, and I would take whatever she taught me.

Her fingers wrapped tighter around me, squeezing as her mouth slid deeper.

The pulling in my belly evolved to an outright pain, travelling in quaking lightning bolts up my thighs into my spine and crackling between my legs.