Blindsided (Fake Boyfriend #4)(53)

“Nghhrl.”

“Is that English?”

“Yes, it’s English for you’re a big fucking tease, and I think you might kill me.”

“No one’s ever died from having an orgasm before. Unless, I dunno, if they’re eighty or whatever.”

I make quick work of his pants and pull them off along with his boxer briefs.

The cock I have memorized, the gorgeous, cut, long, and thin cock, lies against Talon’s stomach. Its angry and swollen head begs for attention, and that’s the exact reason I ignore it.

Lifting the hem of his shirt, I lean over him and kiss my way up his torso. Talon throws his head back, and I love the sounds he makes as I take a nipple into my mouth. My hands move down his sides, gripping his hip and trailing over his heated skin with light, feathery touches, but I refuse to touch his cock.

“I know if I complain, you’re only going to hold out longer,” he says through gritted teeth, “but could we maybe move this along a little faster before I lose my load?”

I chuckle and stand up straight. “Sure thing.” I lose my clothes and then go back to what I was doing, this time slowly moving my mouth closer and closer until Talon’s cock drags along my rough cheek.

It’s been so long since I’ve done this to someone I’m probably gonna be a little rusty, but I don’t care. I’ve been thinking about doing this for so fucking long.

I start small and lick my way over the tip. “Mmm.”

Talon’s hips jackknife off the bed, and he gasps before releasing a string of curses that makes me laugh.

“What? You’re acting like you’ve never had a guy’s mouth on your dick before.”

“Funny, smartass. Less talking. More sucking.”

“Now who’s the bossy one?” I bury my head between Talon’s legs instead of giving him what he wants, and my tongue laps at one of his balls.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Talon whispers.

“Name’s Miller, actually. But I can be your god anytime.”

Talon snorts. “You’re as lame in bed with guys as you are with girls, and I still don’t know how that line works, but it does. I will gladly worship you for the rest of my life if you keep doing what you’re doing.”

When I’m done teasing his sac, I run my tongue up his hard shaft and flatten it against the pulsing vein.

“God, I love the feel of your stubble.”

He’s gonna love it even more in a second. I engulf his whole cock in my mouth, dusting off the deep-throating skills I learned years ago.

Talon’s breathing becomes shallow. “I don’t want to think about how you’re so good at that.”

A pang of regret hits me, because part of me wishes we could’ve had this back then if I’d only ever gotten the courage to say something. But we were both young, and I can guarantee we wouldn’t be here today doing this had I mentioned years ago that I’ve dreamed of this moment.

They say when fantasies become realities, they’re always a letdown, because nothing is ever as good as what your imagination can conjure. But when you want something so desperately, the surreal experience of getting it won’t let you be disappointed.

Ever since Talon arrived on my doorstep, I’ve been riding a wave of I have to make the most of it and holy fuck, this can’t be real.

Talon lifts his hips, almost making me gag, but fuck, if it doesn’t feel like the best sex I’ve ever had, even though he’s the one getting to have all the fun right now.

He moves in and out of my mouth, and I tell myself to memorize his velvety tight skin and the sound he makes every time the tip of his cock hits the back of my throat.

“Do you want me to fuck you or come in your mouth?” Talon asks. “Because I’m close.”

I’m tempted to let him come—he has the stamina to go again later—but I want this too much, and I want it now.

Reluctantly, I pull off his cock, and Talon’s breathing slowly evens out.

I go to the bedside drawer where Talon pulled out the lube we used last night and smile when I find a box of condoms too. “You really did come prepared.”

“Are you kidding me? I was prepared the night of the Super Bowl, and then I went and got too drunk.”

“Thought I’d let you have a go at my ass that night?” I totally would have, but I’m not gonna say that aloud.

I place the supplies on the bed and then lie down next to him on my side.

Talon pulls me in close and presses his mouth to mine. The air between us goes from playful to serious as he reaches for the lube.

His tongue distracts me while he gets his fingers coated.

“Roll over onto your other side,” Talon whispers against my skin.

I do as he says, putting my back to him, and he moves my good leg so it’s bent but keeps my stupid leg straight.

A finger runs over my surgical scar. “Does it hurt?”

“Bottoming? I guess we’ll find out.”

Talon laughs. “Your scar, dumbass.”

Oh. Self-consciousness makes me want to cover it up, but I don’t know why. I’ve seen the scar in the mirror, and I know it’s ugly, but it’s not like I’m looking at it constantly. I forget it’s even there.

“It doesn’t hurt,” I say. “It feels weird when you touch it—almost like I have like a Band-Aid or something covering part of my skin. Doctor said I could lose some sensitivity there.”