The Wreckage of Us(57)

She looked at me and nodded. “I know, Ian,” she softly said, as if she could read my thoughts and my messy mind. “Me too.”

Her head fell back to my shoulder, and we swayed for the remainder of the evening. Then I took her to her bedroom and held her one last time.

As we lay in bed, I began to close my eyes but stopped once I felt a hand slightly stroking against my boxers. If there was anything that would wake a tired man up, it was a hand moving against his cock.

I tilted my head to look her way, wondering if the slight touch was a sleepy mistake, but her stare was fully focused on me as she did the act. She fingered the band of my boxers before pulling it away from my skin, making enough room for her to slide her hand inside. As she gripped my cock, she began stroking it up and down slowly, keeping full eye contact with me as she did so. Then she added a small bit of pressure to her strokes, making me moan in pleasure from the slight sensation she delivered me.

She pulled her hand out of the boxers for a second and licked the palm, then sucked on each of her fingers, getting her hand completely lubricated, before sliding it back in and making her strokes a tad bit faster. My cock grew in her hand as she turned me on, gliding her hand over my head and moving it down to the shaft. Every time she stroked it, my mind wanted to explode.

“Haze . . . just like . . . that,” I sighed, unable to keep my eyes open as the sensation of desire overtook me.

She sat up in the bed and began pulling my boxers down my legs. She tossed them to the side of the room and lowered herself so she was kneeling on the floor, right in front of the bed.

“Rotate your body,” she ordered. “Come closer to me.”

I did as she said, my heart pattering like I was a fucking child on Christmas morning as she kept her strokes going strong. She moved her mouth closer to my dick, and her hot breaths brushed against my inner thighs as she kissed my skin lightly. Her tongue slid out of her mouth, and she circled the tip, making chills race down my spine.

Fuuuuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Then she took me all into her mouth, sucking my cock long and hard, allowing her hand to glide up and down along with her mouth. Her tongue made fucking figure eights against the base, and fuck me sideways, I had to cover my face with my hands to keep from shouting out in pleasure. She kept up the pace and swallowed me whole, allowing the intensity of the blow job to overtake me. She placed her free hand right below my stomach and lightly pushed down against me, and fuck, I was going to come in Hazel Stone’s mouth if she didn’t stop any second. My feet started tapping against the floor as my body began to lift off the mattress from being so close to getting off.

“Stop, stop, stop,” I ordered, pulling her away.

She looked up at me with confusion in her stare. “I’m sorry. Did you not like . . .”

“Shit, Haze,” I murmured, shaking my head. “I fucking loved it. But I want to taste you first.” I pulled her up from the ground and laid her down against the bed. “I want to taste every single piece of you.”

“Oh . . . ?” she asked as her cheeks reddened in an instant. “So what do you need me to do?”

“That’s easy. I need you to take off your pants.”





22

HAZEL

I’d never had a guy go down on me. All Garrett and I had ever done was make out, and I’d give him hand jobs and blow jobs every now and again, but he’d never do anything to me. He said it grossed him out a lot, and he didn’t like being down there.

I never thought about it too much, because I didn’t care. If I wanted to get myself off, there were plenty of ways to do it without a stupid boy who was too much of a child to please a woman.

But with Ian that night? There was no problem in the world. Ian pulled off my pajama pants and panties with such calmness. He stared at my body in a way that Garrett never had—as if he worshipped every crease and every curve.

He pulled my shirt over my head, and I sat there in my bra, almost completely naked in front of the first ever man to have full control over my heartbeats. Then he proceeded to run his lips across every single piece of me. All the parts I loved and the ones that brought about jaded insecurities. His tongue danced down my neck, across the curves of my chest, against the folds of my stomach, across my hip bones, against my inner thighs.

A pool of heat fell against my core as Ian spread my legs apart. He breathed against my sex as I lay back, anticipation making my inhalations and exhalations harder and harder to achieve. Then he took two of his fingers against my core and spread me open, creating a V with his fingers. And right between the V, he placed his tongue, licking me up and down, sucking against my clit as I cried out in pleasure.

Oh my gosh . . .

How did he do that with his tongue? How did he move it fast and slow, up and down, deep and deeper.

Oh my gosh, Ian was burying himself in me as my juices released from his wants, his needs, and his desires. He slid two fingers inside of me and made a hook motion against my core, bringing me closer and closer to an orgasm. I wasn’t sure how much longer I could hold it in. I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to control myself from fully letting go.

“All of you,” he whispered, looking up to stare me in the eyes. He slid another finger in with the other two and worked them around like a magician, filling me with his mystical powers. “I want to taste all of you. Let go, Haze. Let go,” he ordered before he returned his tongue to my sex and once again began fucking me hard and deep with his tongue. My fingers tangled up in the sheets as my hips pushed up from the bed and toward his mouth. My legs began quivering as he quickened his pace. In and out, in and out, long wet strokes of his tongue.