A Guy Walks Into My Bar - Lauren Blakely Page 0,77

as I go, taking him farther.

“Fuck, that’s good,” he mutters as he slides to the back of my throat.

And that’s where Dean wants to be, judging from the sounds he makes. “Show me how much you love sucking my cock,” he says, and my dick throbs in my jeans at his dirty words.

I do love sucking his cock.

So damn much.

And I show him. Sucking him hard and deep and ravenously. Letting him grab my head, pull me down on his dick, and rock his hips up against me. Letting him fuck my mouth, my face, my throat.

I suck him hard and deep because it feels so good, because it drives him wild, and because I want to let him know what I’ll do for him. That if I have to, I’ll get on my knees for him.

No. Not just because I have to. Because I want to.

Because this guy—my God, this guy is mine, and I want Dean to feel every second of pleasure in the world from me.

As I devour his length, he bucks against me, dirty words falling from his lips. “Yes, fucking yes. I fucking love that.” Then just a long, choked out, “Coming.”

He shoots into my throat, salty and intoxicating, and I savor every drop of him.

When I let go of his dick, I look up to see a very satisfied man.

He’s supremely content, his lips parted, his breath coming fast. He reaches a hand to my face, runs a thumb along my jaw, then says, “Take your cock out. I want to watch you get yourself off.”

Fire roars across my skin. I rise and strip off my jeans in seconds flat as he lies back on the couch, parking his hands behind his head, and I straddle him.

My dick is aching for relief, heavy in my hand as I grip myself. I’m close to the edge already from having him in my mouth, from him coming on my tongue.

The second I slide my hand down my length, I shudder.

I’ve never enjoyed jacking myself off more than right now, never more than when I’m looking at Dean, my hand shuttling at a fevered pace up and down my length.

His eyes are locked on my dick. He stares as I stroke myself, as pleasure crackles in my veins, as it spreads relentlessly across my whole body.

“You better come on my chest,” he instructs. “Shoot all over me.”

“Yes, God yes. I want my come all over you.”

My orgasm rattles down my spine as my balls tighten, and I jerk faster, harder, until I’m coming so damn hard on his chest.

Then, as I’m panting and groaning, he reaches up to me, both arms tugging me close, pulling me against him. My release smears between our bodies, and neither one of us cares.

All I want is to get close to him. And that’s what I do as he wraps his arms around me, pulls me to his chest, and kisses me.

Soft. Tender. Gentle.

I’m forgiven.

When he breaks the kiss, he whispers, “Thank you for coming back to me.”

“I’m so glad I did,” I say. Then I rise and grab his hand. “Let’s clean up.”

He pulls up his jeans, and we head to the bathroom, where he grabs a washcloth and wipes off my chest, and I do the same to him.

I walk into his bedroom, flop onto his bed, and beckon him to me.

“You’re ready to go again?” he asks as he climbs over me.

“Soon,” I say as I pull him on top of me and wrap my legs around the back of his thighs. “I told you so.”

“Insatiable,” he says, shaking his head.

“And you love it,” I add.

“I do love it,” he says.

I curl my hands around his neck as I hook my legs tighter around him, loving the contact after being intimate with him.

“But mostly, I just want to make out with you for a little bit.”

“Like this?” he asks, bending closer and brushing his lips to mine, sending a wave of tingles through me.

Tingles. Jesus. I get tingles from the way he kisses me. I am so far gone it’s unreal.

“Yes,” I say on a moan, as I draw him closer.

As I bring my lips to his, I try to tell him everything that I’m dying to say.

Everything I learned today.

I tell him in the soft but urgent way I kiss him that I want him again and again.

As I tighten my legs around his body, I try to tell him without words that I’m in love with