the bed. I climb out too, dropping to my knees in front of him. “Violet?” he says, but his voice sounds choked.
I look up at him through my lashes. “Back then, I imagined it was me under the bleachers, your cock in my mouth and your hands in my hair, guiding and taking me. I imagined you losing control because of little old me. Back then, I was nervous and figured I could spit it out discretely so it wouldn’t be weird. But now, when you come, I want to swallow you. I want it all . . . all of you.”
“Fuck, Violet,’ he says, nodding, though I don’t think he even realizes he’s doing it.
I lay a sweet kiss, soft as a butterfly’s kiss, to his crown, and he hisses as his hips surge forward. I lick a swirl of a loop around the mushroom head and murmur appreciatively, “I can’t believe I got all this inside me. Finally, Ross Andrews fucked me, Violet Russo.” It may have happened within the last week, hell, within the last days, but I’m talking about who we used to be. Back then, I don’t think either of us would’ve ever predicted this degree of chemistry between us. Maybe in high school, we wouldn’t have even had chemistry, too young and not ready for whatever this is.
I’m still not sure of what label to slap on this because we’ve moved well beyond fuck buddies and no strings attached, and I know there’s something bigger growing in my heart, but I’m not sure Ross is feeling that at all. And with everything on the line, I won’t risk asking. But this right here, the fireworks that ignite between us, doesn’t feel like a gamble at all because this part, at least, is a certainty.
Ross chuckles a bit at my disbelieving brag at being one of his conquests, but it turns into a gaspy moan of pleasure as I swallow him inch by inch. I wrap my fist around the base of his shaft, pumping him with my hand as I suck his cock in and out of my mouth, worshipping him but also controlling this sexy man with my power.
He slides his hands into my hair, gripping but not forcing me. No, he lets me take him, drive him wild, and I delight in the way he loses control, his hips starting to thrust gently, helping me work him.
“Mmm . . . that’s it, honey. Your mouth feels so good. Reach down. Play with yourself for me. I want to see you on your knees, coming apart as you suck me down.” His voice is gravelly, the image he paints powerful.
I whimper around him in answer, spreading my knees and sliding my middle finger through my folds to gather the wetness there. I hold my hand up for him, and he leans forward to suck my finger clean, his tongue swirling over my finger mimicking what I’m doing to his cock.
My fingers and my mouth move together as I bob up and down on Ross’s cock and stroke between my lips and over my clit.
“I can’t,” he groans. His fingers tighten in my hair, holding me still as he takes over and starts to fuck my mouth. He thrusts deeper and deeper, edging into my throat as I slide first one, then two fingers in my molten pussy. He’s powerful but restrained, our eyes locked on each other the whole time.
I moan around him as a mini-orgasm, a precursor of what’s to come, sweeps through me, and he groans at the vibration, gifting my tongue with a sweet dollop of his precum.
“You sure?” he grits out, and I suck harder, my fingers a blur across my pussy.
He plunges hard into me, and any thoughts, doubts, or words I have are obliterated as he shatters me. I gasp and spasm around him, my whole body quivering as I rise up to get more and more of him.
He freezes deep in my throat, and I feel the hot jets as he comes with a bellow. I swallow reflexively, not wanting to lose a drop, but there’s no risk of that because Ross holds me there, filled with him to the point I can’t even breathe.
But for this quick moment, at least, it feels like he’s all I need. Oxygen be damned. The wedding be fucked. Our families and past are meaningless. It all washes away, and all I can feel is . . . Ross.
I wanted