Junk Mail(30)

“Is this okay?” she asks, pulling back from our kiss.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” I can’t help but smile. “I mean, there’s not much here that you haven’t already seen.”

A wicked flame lights up Peyton’s eyes. “Oh, I remember,” she coos, wetting her lips. “But I’ve been dying to know if pictures do you justice.”

Next thing I know, that gorgeous, honey mouth I was tasting moments ago is trailing kisses down my abs until her lips are pressed against the button of my jeans. She carefully pops the button open as she sinks to her knees, pulling my pants and boxers to the floor and freeing my erection.

She’s quiet for a moment, sizing me up and admiring her prize. Well, she looks at it like it’s a prize, but I’m the one who feels like the biggest goddamned winner in the world. I’ve never had a woman just admire me like this before, and it’s making me harder by the second.

Finally, she breaks her silence with one little syllable. “Yep,” she whispers as she runs her palm along my shaft. “Verified to be way better in person.”

And without another word, she parts her lips and claims me.

Jesus fucking Christ. Her mouth feels like heaven.

“Fuck, Peyton. That’s so good.” I can hardly get the words out between groans. Damn, this girl is good. Better than good. Un-fucking-believable.

She looks up at me with those big blue eyes and I’m gone, totally lost in her.

I rock my hips in time with her rhythm and she takes me deeper, swallowing my whole length down her throat. Just as I feel myself building to a climax, she slows down and takes me out of her mouth to work me over with her tongue, tasting every inch, all the way to the sensitive tip.

A groan rumbles in my chest as I shudder against her tongue, and just when I don’t think I can take another second, she takes me in her mouth again, sending me hurtling toward the edge.

“Fuck. Gonna come now.”

I grip her ponytail in my fist, a last-ditch effort to hang on for another second, but it’s no use. I moan and free-fall over the edge, pouring into her until I’m left drained and spent and awestruck.

“Holy shit, Peyton.” I cup her chin in my hand as she smiles up at me. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know,” she says mischievously as I help her to her feet. “But I wanted to.”

Once my boxers and pants have been returned to their rightful place on my hips, I pull Peyton flush against me and press a gentle, thankful kiss against her mouth.

“I really, really appreciate it. You’re amazing. Just know that normally I don’t let a woman make me come until I’ve given her at least one solid orgasm.”

Peyton laughs. “But you have given me at least one solid orgasm,” she says, then kisses my cheek. “You just gave me mine a week in advance. And I have to admit you’ve inspired a few more in the privacy of my bedroom, compliments of my vibrator and that picture you sent me.”

Damn, that’s a sexy thought. “Then let me offer you at least one more.”

I grip her hips and pull her in closer for a kiss. It was meant to be a chaste kiss, a kiss to feel out where she wants to take things next, but before I know it, Peyton is the one deepening our connection. As her tongue slides against mine, her hips rock against my pelvis and my cock begins to harden again.

“You’re too much,” I murmur between kisses. I tug down her leggings that have taunted me all day and find her silky core is already wet for me.

Shit.

And now I’m fully hard again.

We haven’t even made it to the bed. We’re still standing at the edge of it, both of us half dressed.

I stroke my fingers over her, and Peyton moans. Somehow I know she’s not going to last long, and I love the idea that it’s me she’s losing control for—that I’m the one who’s going to be holding her tonight.

One thing at a time, Hanson.

First, I have a favor to return. Remembering all the things that drove her crazy the first time, I thumb her sensitive clit while sinking two fingers inside her.

She shudders and groans out my name.

Wrapping one arm securely around her waist, I walk us backward toward the bed.

“Where are we going?” she asks, breathless.

“Let’s get you onto the bed where you can be more comfortable.”

But rather than move onto the bed like I imagined, Peyton freezes, her leggings around her thighs. She inhales sharply, holding it for a moment like she’s trying to decide on the best call. When she finally exhales, she shakes her head and tugs up her panties and leggings.

“God, I want that so bad, Josh. But I know where that leads. And we can’t sleep together. We both know that.”

Fucking hell. She’s probably right. But that doesn’t make me want her any less.

“I can’t just leave you hanging,” I say, meeting her eyes and touching her cheek softly.

She shakes her head. “You’re not. It’s my choice. Tomorrow is quite possibly the biggest day of my career. I don’t want to lose focus.”

She sounds pretty damn certain, and a hollow ache forms in my chest at the thought of not touching her again.

“Well,” I say, “just know it’s redeemable at any time. An IOU, if you will.”