my crotch against his and pulsing more in my pussy than I have in a long time.
Gage is kneading my ass and flips me around, pressing me up against his front door to get a better grind on.
“Oh my God,” I moan, crashing my lips with his again.
His hips really know how to move.
Fuck!
Wow!
I break free from the kiss, drop my legs, and go for his zipper while Gage chews on my neck, groaning, “You smell good, Cherry.”
I reach into his pants, and gasp as my fingers wrap around the widest girth they ever have.
Gage looks down.
He locks eyes with me.
“Too much?”
“I…I…we’ll see!”
Brushing his lips against mine so softly they send a shiver, he rasps, “Yes we will…”
Chapter Six
LEXI
I haven’t been with a ton of guys. My number is over five…and under ten.
Not one this big.
Gage closes his eyes, enjoying as I give his trunk a slow, stunned stroke, fingertips unable to touch each other. I’ve got small hands, but this is crazy.
And yet…
My legs feel limber.
More inclined to open.
Knees definitely weak.
Willing to spread.
In fact, my cautious pussy is becoming by every passing second one incredible throb of need.
She’s wondering why I’m hesitating. It’s because I have a brain and I’m good at math.
This cock equals ouch!
“Feels good,” he rasps, and he’s right. It does. It’s not incredibly long, which my cervix just whispered she’s grateful for. It’s the width that has my brain arguing with my crotch, Are you sure about this? You can back out now!
Brain, are you serious? Wait, you’re always serious. Not me, babe, I wanna see what happens when we climb this!
Sensing my hesitation, Gage claims me in a kiss, our bodies bent so that I can still touch his enormous cock in amazement. But his tongue is skillful, and soon I’m lost in hungry kisses that inspire heat warming my abdomen. As a result, my hand moves faster, grip tightening around his base even if my fingers can’t touch each other. As he groans, “That feels good, Cherry,” we lock eyes.
I almost laugh that it’s the perfect nickname since he’s about to make me feel like I’ve still got one.
With a slow kiss, he removes my hand, and zips up his pants.
“What’re you doing?!” I cry out, “No!”
Gage grabs and lifts me up, “You want it that bad, huh?” wrapping my legs around his hips again.
“No, that’s not it. I just…” want it that bad. “…wasn’t sure what you were doing, is all.”
He chuckles, carrying me into the kitchen, “You said you were thirsty,” where he sits me on his clean countertop by a super-sized, silver fridge.
Rather than say what my pussy wants me to — I’m not thirsty anymore. I wanna experience what that cock feels like — I nibble my bottom lip.
Must act cool.
Unaffected.
Aloof.
I’ve already slipped up. Accidentally shown eagerness. Never my style. Quite the opposite. Brad and I excel at game playing.
I’m a master!
His star pupil.
In so many ways.
Just thinking of that asshole dims my arousal, greediness now a manageable hum. I even feel my gaze sharpening again.
Wisening.
Gage digs in the refrigerator and produces a couple Guinnesses. “Perfect. Irish beer for the redhead. Put your head back.”
“Excuse me?”
“Put your head back and close your eyes.”
“No way.”
His left hand slides between my thighs and flips over to hold my crotch over jeans I suddenly wish were on the floor. “Mmm, you’re hot down here.” He rubs up me once, and moves slowly back down, applying more pressure and giving the tiniest, shortest, wiggle. “Can’t tell through this denim but I’d bet my truck you’re dripping wet.”
I frown at him.
He gives me this sexy I-can’t-wait grin, eyelashes dropping to watch his palm and fingers rub me more. I’m trying not to let Gage see how aroused I’m getting, how good he is at this.
Aloof.
Aloof.
Aloof!
That doesn’t even sound like a word anymore. A moan betrays me.
“Put your head back.”
I breathe, “Okay.”
“Close your eyes and keep ‘em closed.” His hand abandons me. I bite my lip rather than beg for its return.
There’s that delicious, unmistakable sound of a beer bottle cap flying, the distinct fizz as oxygen meets liquid.
Against instinct I squeeze my eyes tight, hearing him take a long swig.
Suddenly there’s an ice-cold, wet bottle rim touching my bottom lip, tracing it left, then right. I tilt my head a little for a sip and he says, “No,” so I bend it back again. “Open your lips for me… That’s right.”
Cold and chocolatey Guinness drenches my tongue and stops just before I choke.
“Keep ‘em