Arranged(49)

“Probably,” I breathed back.

“Luckily I have just the trick.” He nuzzled gently into me, prodding me lightly with his tongue.

He pulled back. “How does that feel? Too much?”

I answered by gripping his hair with both hands and pushing his face back into me. He didn’t ask again. He ate me out tenderly, leisurely. His hands stayed busy elsewhere, one plucking and kneading at my breasts, the other finding its way to my mouth. His thumb rubbed back and forth across my lips, teasing.

I watched us in the mirror, the sight of what he was doing to me bringing me close to the edge every bit as much as the sensations themselves.

His fingers prodded at my mouth, and I opened for him. I sucked his fingers in and out as his lips sucked at my slit.

The act was so tender and leisurely that my orgasm caught me completely by surprise. It hit me in a gentle unfurling. My head fell back. My toes curled. I managed not to cry out his name, but it was a close thing.

After he rose up from between my legs, wiping his mouth. I was still trying to catch my breath.

He moved away.

I closed my eyes. They snapped open again when I heard something soft plop onto the marble floor. I glanced down. He’d set a pillow at his feet. Our eyes clashed. He grinned. I blushed. He pulled out his cock, fisting it.

“You want me to . . .” I began.

“If you don’t mind too terribly much.” The way he said it was excruciatingly polite and utterly irresistible. Especially with his dick in his hand.

“You didn’t seem to like it the last time,” I pointed out. “I assumed I was a hopeless cause.”

It was his turn to flush, his gaze flitting away like he couldn’t face mine all of a sudden. “The truth is, I—” he began, then paused as though choosing his next words carefully. “I didn’t mean what I said after. I was just being a shit.” He paused again. “I think about it all the time . . . your mouth on me.”

Well, well, well. The words and the way he said them were something akin to an apology. Without a doubt they were conciliatory, and they hadn’t been easy for him, I could tell, but he’d still managed to get them out. It was something. Some sort of a turning point for us, though I couldn’t have said what all it really meant just yet.

I hopped off the counter and lowered myself to the pillow he’d laid out for me. His eyes ran over my body, and he kept stroking himself.

I gazed up at him, licking my lips. I wanted him to move closer, but I loved the sight of him touching himself too much, so I waited.

“I’ll try not to make a mess this time,” I said, trying at playful.

His voice was a groan. “Don’t bother. I want to leave a mess on you.”

I don’t know why that turned me on so. I felt heat rush through me, flushing my skin and pooling in my loins. He moved closer and I grabbed him with both hands.

He made a rough, delicious noise when my mouth surrounded his tip. His gripped his hands in my hair and eased his thick length into my mouth.

“Touch yourself,” he instructed, “Rub your clit.”

I kept one hand on him, jerking off his base as I sucked his tip and fingered myself.

I got us both off at the same time. There was something so heady about that, having the power to pleasure both of us at once while all he could do was moan and pull my hair. I felt it when his body tensed to come, everything going stiff, his balls drawing up tight. The very air changed in that moment. It was utterly intoxicating, and it brought on my own release.

I couldn’t help it, I cried out as I came, and my mouth released him with a wet little pop.

One of his hands stayed in my hair, the other reaching down to cover my hand on him. He jerked his cum out into the air. It hit my lips, my chin, my collarbone, and lower. He spent extra time spurting onto my tits.

“I meant to swallow it, I really did,” I said when I caught my breath.

He laughed, a breathless, surprised rumble out of his throat, and pushed himself back between my lips. I licked his tip and was surprised when I felt his cock jerk another little stream of cum into my throat. It just kept going.

“There’s always next time,” he said, voice low and hoarse.

Next time, indeed.

He pulled out and away, tucking himself back into his pants. Why not? He was good to go, I’d licked him clean, meanwhile I was a complete mess. From the way his eyes lingered on me, I could tell he loved the sight.

“Rub it into you tits,” he groaned. I looked down at myself, rubbing his sticky cum into my flesh, massaging the firm, perky globes of my breasts. I kneaded at myself, getting it everywhere.

He moaned, rubbing at his crotch like we might just go another round.

I twisted my nipples between my fingers. I wanted him to suck on them, cum and all. I was disappointed when he told me, “Enough,” in a hoarse, heavy voice.

He helped me up, then gave me his back, going to wash his hands.

That was when I noticed his tattoo. I’d never seen his naked back in the light before. I moved toward him, studying it. It was a small rose rendered in lovely intricate detail on his shoulder blade. I wanted to trace it with my fingers. “What does it mean?” I asked him.

His head turned until I was looking at his profile. His mouth twisted. “It means that you can never really know another person. Not their mind and not their heart. It means that you should never trust a gold digger.”