her jaw and slid me inside. There was no preamble, no licking my head and swirling her tongue around my crown, the way most women seemed to like to do—which was nice and all, but totally unnecessary when a man is raring to go already. I wasn’t sure if I should appreciate that Ireland seemed to know that, or if it should bother me that she did, but as she started to bob her head, I couldn’t even remember what I’d been considering debating.
Once my cock was inside her beautiful mouth, she lowered her jaw a little more and shocked the crap out of me by swallowing.
Fuck me. She can deep throat. I’m done.
Just as fast as I was down her throat, she pulled back and let her flattened tongue glide along the underside of my dick as it slid almost all the way back out. Her eyelashes batted, and as she looked up at me, I could see the mirth in her gaze.
“Jesus Christ, Ireland.”
She slid back down and again took me all the way into her throat. I had to look up at the ceiling to keep myself from being a two-pump chump who finished before she’d really started. Watching her on her knees, swallowing my cock, was too much to handle. I groaned and reached down to tangle my fingers in her hair.
I tried not to look down, or watch her head as it bobbed up and down each time my cock went in and out of her throat, but I couldn’t fucking help myself. The sight was just too incredible to miss. Ireland took me deep a few more times and then switched from long, deep sucks to short, fast pumps with her mouth and hand.
It was seriously the most brilliant thing I’d ever felt. It was like I’d died and gone to porn star heaven.
I tried to hold back, but she made it damn near impossible. Especially when she reached up and urged my hands into her hair to guide the rhythm. She’d basically given me license to fuck her face. As much as I would have liked to stand here and do that all day long, I only made it three pumps more. The urge to finish was too strong, no matter how hard I tried.
I’d told her I wanted to come down her throat, and I did, more than anything, but I also wasn’t an asshole. She might deep throat like a porn star, but she was a woman I respected. So I had to warn her.
“Ireland…baby. Fuck. I’m gonna…come.”
But she didn’t move away. I was just about to warn her again, just in case she hadn’t heard me. When I looked down, Ireland’s eyes were shut, but sensing me, she opened them and looked up.
“Babe, I’m gonna come.”
She responded by sucking me in so deep, I thought I might never come out—not that I wanted to. Ireland Saint James’s throat was my nirvana, and I never wanted to leave. But she’d heard me loud and clear that time, and she made sure I knew it. She wanted me to come down her throat, and I was fucking thrilled to oblige. With the groan of her name and one more thrust, I stopped moving my hips and let go, filling her throat with a never-ending stream.
I barely had the strength to pull her to her feet when she was done.
“Jesus Christ, Ireland. How the hell did you learn to do that?” I shook my head, still lightheaded from my release. “Forget it. I don’t want to know.”
Ireland giggled. “I told you I liked to watch men being pleasured. Might have picked up a thing or two.”
I looked up at the ceiling. Thank you, Lord. Any answer other than her learning it by watching a video would have been totally unacceptable.
I smiled. “You couldn’t be more perfect if I’d made you myself.”
“By the way, I’m on the pill.”
It was going to be one hell of a long night.
Chapter 24
* * *
Ireland
I once read an article that said the average time spent on foreplay was fourteen minutes. Obviously in the beginning things usually went a little longer for a couple, but I’d never spent two hours fooling around with a man without getting to sex—even when foreplay was all that was going to happen.
But Grant took his time, and I really, really liked that. After I went down on him, he repaid the favor by giving me two orgasms with his mouth. Then we talked