Through A Glass, Darkly (The Assassins of Youth MC #1)(72)

Allred had wanted me for another wife. What was stopping Verlan Turley or whoever took over Cornucopia’s reins from doing in Gideon? We would have to be on the watch forever.

He slanted his mouth against mine, murmuring, “Let’s do it up against this Doobie Brothers poster.” I could feel his smile against mine. Yosemite Sam’s feeble attempts at interior decoration were admirable.

“No. Wait,” I said.

I dropped to my knees like an elevator.

Gumming Gideon’s prick from outside his jeans, my fingers unwove the puzzle that was his big pewter belt buckle. He fell against the wall with a thud, slightly tearing the concert poster.

“Oh. God. Good God.”

I’d never blown him before. It wasn’t in my repertoire of sexual tricks. Admittedly, that box of tricks was fairly tiny. I’d only executed the movements of a blowjob under duress before. Doing it of my own free will was going to be a fresh, new experience, so I’d read up on it. I wanted it to be an unrelated act to what had gone before—like something learned from the internet.

Gideon’s blazingly hot penis nearly slapped against my cheek. It almost seemed to burn my palm as I rubbed my face drily all over it. I lifted his ball sac and did the same, spicing up my caresses with tiny licks from a hard, fast tongue. His balls were hot and tangy—the scent of sex.

When he grabbed my shoulders and arched his hips toward me, I lost it. His commanding, sinewy grace was too much for me, and his long, heavy cock pulsated in my palm with a life of its own. A flood of oxytocin rushed from my brain down my spine, causing me to jump to acts I would’ve considered unthinkable months before.

I swallowed his penis almost whole.

It was like a magic act, gulping that pole. One second he was screwing it into my palm with erotic rotations of his lean hips. The next second, it filled my throat so deeply I imagined I could feel it up against my tonsils.

I think I did it right, because his low groan reverberated against those tonsils. It almost tickled, so I gulped, and gulped again. The saliva started to flow as I sank his pole again and again down my throat. I got into a rhythm of plunging and gulping, plunging and gulping.

At first it seemed impossible, what I was doing. How could any woman swallow such a plump, long dick? But I found that if I relaxed my throat muscles and fell into a steady rhythm in a sort of Zen way, I could take more of his meat.

Then I started lapping away. At first I just covered the underside, massaging the bulging vein with my tongue-tip. Then, on a backstroke when the shiny, excited glans would slip dangerously against my palate, I tried tickling the slit with a few licks. That made him twitch and jump. I wasn’t sure if this was good until he uttered,

“God, Mahalia. Sweetness, sweetness, sweetness. Stop. I want to come inside you.”

This made my heart soar in more ways than one. I’d told him I wanted to get off the birth control pill because I was wary of the hormones. He’d said fine, he understood, and I’d assumed it meant we’d add rubbers to our repertoire. But we’d “raw dogged” it three times since then, with no letup in sight. To my mind, it indicated a deep and enduring love. That he was willing to risk having a baby when things were so chaotic and uncertain let me know his love was sincere.

And that gladdened my heart more than anything.

Again, he slid his fat dick inside me with no preparation. He lifted me by the underarms and didn’t even sit me on top of Yosemite Sam’s rickety desk. He just brushed aside my short skirt, fingering away the strip of nylon that served me as panties these days. The few short strokes of his fingers against my clitoris were all I needed for warmup. I was already slick and primed to go.

Fucking Gideon Fortunati was like nothing else I’d ever experienced. It had never occurred to me it could be so lusty, so laden with emotion. Forgetting what came before Gideon, like my amnesia of what I’d experienced before my painful birth, was a sweet mercy. If my concentration wasn’t fixed on my current reality, I could never tolerate this earthly awareness. Like the glorious paradise I’d been cradled in before birth, a tender grace of forgetfulness separated this man from the acts of the man who had gone before.

The amnesiac veil isn’t there to harm us, to make us tear out our hair in frustration. It’s there so we can live in the here and now without bemoaning our existence every waking step of the way.

I reached an arm down so I could cup his balls. They were full and round, almost hard as he plunged into me. I squished them in my palm with precome gliding my hand. It seemed just the thing he needed to tip him over the edge and into the abyss from which there’s no return.

His groan was from a deep abyss too. “Good God in an evil…”

He never finished his beloved catch phrase. He was too busy spending inside me, swiveling his hips to jam his cockhead far up against my cervix.

I thought I could feel it gushing there. Of course, they say there’s no sensation, very few nerve endings, in the cervix. But I know I felt his tight, shiny corona burst inside me, over and over in short, forceful gushes. I met his thrusts with my own, clutching his pole with my inner muscles.

I flung my arms around his neck for dear life. Gideon, oh Gideon, master of my reality. It was almost frightening loving him so much. The extent to which one loves is also the extent to which one is plunged into agony when one loses the object of one’s affections. But it’s the age old question. Is it better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all?