Eighteen (18)(25)

He smiles. “If you want it, come get it.”

I huff out some air. But after a second of thought, I walk over to him. If I ask a question now, he’ll give me that frown again. And then he’ll probably go on and on and on about some bullshit lesson I need to learn or blah, blah, blah. All I really want is a connection. Just something to make me feel wanted today.

So I take the hem of his t-shirt in my fingertips and begin to lift it. He prickles with goosebumps and I pause to look up into his eyes and realize he’s excited. “Keep going,” he says in a low growl.

I press my palms against the flat planes of his stomach and drag the fabric upward. He’s a lot taller than me, so when I get to his chest, he reaches down and whips the shirt over his head.

He’s got tattoos on his chest. Every kind of star you can imagine, all arranged in patterns. I gently touch one, tracing the faint line that connects it to another, and his skin prickles again. “I like these,” I say, looking up into his green eyes.

“I like you,” he says.

I blush, and look down to hide my smile.

But his fingers lift my chin back up and he says it again. “I like you. Keep going.”

I take a deep breath and slip my fingertips inside the waistband of his jeans. I can feel his cock growing under the denim and my body floods with warmth. I slide them against his tanned skin until I get to the buckle. It jingles as I work it free, and then the brown leather falls to either side of his growing bulge.

His hand slips under my hair and he pulls it aside. I look up at him again, and he nods.

Keep going.

I unbutton his jeans and slide the zipper down, and before I even give myself time to think, I reach in and pull him out. He’s fully hard now and I know what he wants. But I get the feeling he doesn’t want to have to ask for it. So I bend down and settle on my knees in front of him and look up.

He’s got a fistful of my hair now, but he doesn’t urge me on. He wants to me initiate everything today.

I open my mouth and kiss his tip, my tongue darting out to lick small swirling patterns around his thick head. His hand in my hair gives the slightest push and I have a feeling he can’t help that. He’s a disciplined guy, I’m realizing. And if he wants me to initiate, then that small urge is a weakness on his part.

I gain a little confidence and open wider so he can slip inside me an inch or so. I let my tongue explore his tight skin, my hand coming up automatically to wrap around his shaft.

“Fuck, yeah,” he moans.

I tighten the seal of my lips and suck him in. This gets me a sigh and a tighter grip on my hair. “Mmmmm,” I hum.

His hips respond to that by rocking forward an inch or two, and I have to open wider to accommodate the new girth. I ease forward and allow him to penetrate me another inch. My mouth is small, so there is no way I’m taking him all in, but I want to make him sigh and moan some more. So I start bobbing on his cock, taking him in as far as I can, then withdrawing and letting my tongue caress him as I pull away.

“I don’t usually like it so slow, Shannon.” I look up at him and find his eyes at half-mast like he’s enjoying this. “But you can do it any way you want. It doesn’t matter.”

I keep my eyes trained on his as I continue pushing forward and drawing back. I do go slow. I like it slow and I’m not in a hurry.

“Touch yourself,” he says. It’s not harsh and I like that too. Slow and soft Mateo is someone I don’t know yet, but I’d like to see more of that part of him.

I reach down between my legs and find the pool of wetness. I’m almost embarrassed by how wet I am for him, and he hasn’t even touched me yet.

“I want you to come,” he says. “I want you to come with my cock in your mouth and your fingers in your *.”

I take in a deep breath through my nose and start playing with my clit. Small, slow circles at first. I don’t think I can come the way he wants, but I’ll do anything he asks right now. I concentrate on his dick—licking it, sucking it, and waiting for that grip on my hair that says I’m doing it right.

“Make yourself come,” he reminds me.

I reach down farther and insert a finger inside me, probing deeper and deeper each time I take his cock inside me farther.

He moans.

I gush.

“Fuck,” he growls.

I swallow, feeling the tip of his cock in the back of my throat, and this time I get another hand gripping my hair.

“Mmmm,” I hum again, only now I’m doing it because I’m turned on and not because I’m satisfying him.

He moves my head now, forward and back, a little harder, a little more forcefully with each pass. I f*ck myself with my fingers with more enthusiasm too, unable to stop the momentum we’re building.

My hands go to his hips to steady myself and then they are tugging his jeans down farther. I let them drop to his knees and stroke the muscles along the back of his thighs.

“I love that,” he says.

My hands slide upward, my mouth still f*cking him in long strokes. Saliva pools in my cheeks and then drips out over my lips.

He moans again and thrusts his hips forward.

I almost gag, my hands tighten on the curves of his ass, but he pulls back at just the right moment and long strands of saliva dangle until they drop onto my bare legs.

“Come, Shannon,” he whispers.