Proving Paul's Promise(45)

“Okay,” she says quietly. She yawns, and I feel her warm breath on the inside of my elbow. Within seconds, the woman I love is asleep in my arms. And my dick is so hard it’ll probably never go soft again.





Friday

I wake up sweating, stuck against a man. I haven’t been stuck like this to a member of the opposite sex in years, and it feels kind of foreign. Then the thoughts of yesterday seep back into my brain.

He painted my naked body.

He got all intimate with my nipples.

He supported my art project with lustful eyes.

He let me jump into his arms and pretty much promised me he was going to do amazing things to me last night.

He didn’t kiss me back when I threw my arms around his neck.

He told me he didn’t want to sleep with me.

He went to bed.

But he didn’t go to bed.

He listened outside my door and heard my vibrator.

Then he took it from me and f*cking made me come.

He told me he loved me.

Then he went to sleep.

In my bed.

With me in it.

Wrapped around me like he wanted to be with me for the rest of his life.

Did he mention marriage?

Oh, holy hell. He did mention marriage.

I roll over slowly, trying not to wake him. He’s sleeping on his side, facing me, but his blond eyelashes flutter. I freeze, my nose a mere inch from his, and try to will him back to sleep. I want to look at him. I want to study his crooked nose up close. I think he got that hump when he broke it fighting with someone in the shop. They said something crude to Pete and Paul went after them. Not him. Them. He didn’t think twice. He protects his family with everything he has.

He has blond beard stubble on his cheeks. I wonder if he shaves every day. He’s always so fresh faced. His lip is pierced and so is his eyebrow. I look down and study the barbells that are in his nipples. Each one has a bulky bead on the end of it. One is an R and one is an H. Probably for Reed and Hayley? I’m not sure, and I don’t know him well enough to ask.

Yes, I’ve known him for four years, but I had to set myself apart from them a little because no matter how much I wanted to be, I wasn’t part of their family. I was just an employee. I couldn’t get too comfortable because when I get comfortable, people leave. They let me down, every single time.

I lift my knee and brush against Paul’s erection. Whoa. He was hard when I went to sleep last night. I know he was because I could feel it. He’s wearing only boxers right now. He must have gotten up during the night to take his jeans and shirt off because I distinctly remember the feel of his clothing against my inner thighs when he was down there.

Still trying not to wake him, I pull the elastic of his boxers away from his stomach and look down.

Damn.

That man is way bigger than I would have even imagined. At the head, he has a piercing with a jewel in the center. It’s a Prince Albert piercing. It makes me wonder who did it for him because I know I didn’t. I don’t like the idea of anyone else getting intimate with his dick. Hopefully, it was a guy who pierced him. But I highly doubt it.

His hips arch toward my hand. My eyes jerk back up to his face, and I see that he’s still asleep.

I wrap my hand around him and give him a gentle squeeze. His dick pulses like it likes being petted. The purple tip calls to me so I scoot down in the bed and touch my tongue to the bead of pre-come that has beaded on the slit. I pull back. He tastes salty and clean.

I want more.

I bend lower and grab his dick at the base, then take the head into my mouth and close my lips around it. A flash of salty spray hits the back of my tongue as he pulses delicately. A breath escapes his lips, and I look up to find his mouth open and his eyes squeezed shut.

I take a little more of him, and he rolls to his back. His eyes fly open, and he lifts his head to look down at me, but I close my eyes and take him all the way to the back of my throat.

“Friday,” he says softly, his voice rough, his tone nasally from sleep. “Stop.”

I shake my head, and his dick moves back and forth in my mouth. He groans and threads his fingers in my hair. I suck harder. His dick is so hard I can barely pull it back from his stomach, so I get closer and take him deeper, shuttling my hand up the base. There’s way too much of him for me to take him completely into my mouth.

“Friday, please stop,” he says. He sounds like he’s struggling, and I look up to find that he’s watching me. “If you don’t stop, I’m going to come in your mouth.” He tugs on my hair, and I wince, but I don’t stop. “Friday,” he says a little louder. “Pull back.”

I shake my head again and lock my mouth around his dick. I’m not popping off. I don’t care if he gets up and moves; I’m going with him.

But he’s not moving. He stays. He stares down at me. His blue eyes are intense and so f*cking hot that I never want him to look away from me. “Please pull back,” he whispers.

I say “no,” but it comes out more as a mumble because I don’t want to break suction. I can taste more of him now, and his salty essence tickles my tongue.

“Take it, then,” he finally growls. Then he holds my head in place with his fingers tangled in my hair and pushes into my mouth. He groans, and his dick pulses, and he comes so much that it runs out the corners of my mouth because I can’t swallow fast enough. “Take it,” he says again, and he thrusts over and over, until he’s done. “Take all of it,” he whispers. I do. I suck him clean, and finally, he jerks away. “Enough,” he says quietly. “Too sensitive.”