criminal trespassing.” I watch as she stares up at me, tipping forward to mouth at the button on my jeans. I swallow thickly. “And because other people are here.” Her mouth moves lower, grazing closer to the obscene bulge pressing against my pants. “Because it’s not—” She presses her mouth to my cock, her hands holding my hips steady when I buck into it.
I completely forget what it’s not, because mostly all I’m thinking of are her red lips and the way my dick would look disappearing between them.
Apparently, she totally can give me head in Martha Langford’s bedroom, because when she unbuttons my fly, I don’t stop her. Couldn’t, really.
I mean, fuck.
I’m just one man with well-documented weak impulse control.
Her hand is warm and soft when it dips into the waistband of my boxers. I inhale a slow hiss at the contact, stealing a quick glance over my shoulder at the door. This is fucked. There were already about thirty ways this night could have gone wrong. Adding some impromptu head in the mix is probably way up there on my list of poor executive decisions.
She obviously wants it and god knows I want it. This just isn’t the kind of thing you ask a respectable girl—a girl like Vandy—to do. But, as she pulls me out of my shorts and looks at my cock, her red tongue slowly peeking out to wet her lips, I’m not asking her to do a damn thing. Her choice.
All this thought is moot, because if I thought I couldn’t get any harder than when she pressed her mouth to it over my jeans, then I didn’t fully actualize the feel of her hand around me, the sight of her mouth right fucking there. I’m throbbing.
She sinks her teeth into her lip, thumb coming up to caress the tattoo on my hip. She licks the mark and my hips jerk forward. God damn. Her eyes flick up to mine, and I know what this expression means now. Glazed. Heavy. Horny. “I’ve never done this before, so tell me if I do something stupid, okay?”
Little late for that, but, “Just…” Hurry, I want to say, as if that’ll be a problem—but the words get swallowed when she sinks her mouth down around the tip of my cock. My teeth click shut, jaw grinding at the sensation of her soft, wet mouth. God, how many times have I thought about this? Too many to be acceptable.
My breath feels like it’s being yanked from my lungs when she pushes forward, her tongue slicking the way. I try to find something to do with my clenching hands, settling one loosely on her shoulder while the other ducks beneath her hair, gently cupping her neck. Her heavy eyes raise up to mine and there’s a question in them—a need for criticism or praise.
All I can offer is a surprised, “Oh, fuck,” as the blood rushes from my brain. She’s looking up at me so sweetly, but what’s happening with her mouth is anything but. She sets an unhurried rhythm that feels more about being indecisive than trying to draw it out. If we were somewhere else, I’d let her hear all the tortured noises I’m trapping in the back of my throat. Since we’re not, I just rub her neck, hoping that’s enough encouragement.
It’s not long before I begin feeling the telltale tug of my orgasm approaching. The room is filled with my hard breaths and the sucking, wet sounds that make my toes curl. Vandy’s got a hand fisted into my jeans and she never lets up. Not once.
I wind my fingers into her hair, trying to ease her off. I feel her disagreement more than I hear it, high and desperate-sounding in the back of her throat, and I know it’d be better to just let her swallow. Less mess. No fuss. But I need her to know, so I manage to grind out a low, “Baby, I’m gonna...”
She pushes back down, taking me all the way in.
It’s that determination that’s always drawn me to her, and I know better than to fight her. Not that I want to, because the coil in my balls unwinds and rushes through me like a tidal wave. I gasp and let it go, hitching out a strained, “Ahhh,” as I pulse hard and hot between her slick lips. My hand grips a tight fistful of her sweater, twisting it up. “Jesus, V.”