and just . . . feel.”
To my surprise, he obeyed, his eyelids drifting shut. I turned my attention to unzipping his pants the rest of the way. The boxer briefs he wore beneath didn’t do much to hide the bulge of his cock, and I stroked him over the tight material, watching with a slight smile as he hardened and lengthened under my touch.
“God,” he breathed. “It’s been so long.”
I smothered a snort. “You have no idea,” I murmured under my breath. Images were flashing in my mind, memories of that first night, of what Eli didn’t remember and I couldn’t forget.
Swallowing hard, I eased his jeans and boxers further down. I needed room to work. He didn’t realize it, of course, but right now, I was challenging myself to give him the best blow job in the history of oral sex. I imagined it was something like a former apprentice eager to show his master how much he’d improved. Eli had coached me through the first time I’d gone down on a guy, but I’d had loads of practice since. I liked to think I’d refined my technique.
He was bigger, if that was possible. Maybe it was just how I remembered that night, but as I curved my fingers around him, I was sure he was longer and thicker. Tightening my grip, I drew it up and down a few times, appreciating the feeling of satin-covered steel, the odd juxtaposition of smooth and hard.
When I brought my hand to the top the third time, I paused, swiping my thumb over the head. Smirking to myself, I could hear my own voice, three years younger.
“The slit? Oh . . . you mean the opening.”
Rubbing the pad of my thumb just there, I smoothed the bead of liquid down his length, pausing to cup his balls and give them a little squeeze. Keeping one hand there, I bent over him, and out of a sense of private nostalgia, I pressed a kiss to the shaft just below the head. Eli drew in a rapid breath, but before he could react more than that, I took him deep into my mouth, relaxing my jaw and moving down until his turgid cock nudged the back of my throat.
“Jesus Christ,” Eli croaked, and I felt his hand groping to cover the back of my head. “Oh, my God.”
I gave a little hum in response, knowing the vibration would add to his pleasure. Holding him still within my mouth, I used my tongue to tease a little before I tucked my teeth under my lips and drew upward, my cheeks hollowing out as I sucked.
For the next several moments, I licked, kissed and sucked his cock, pumping my hand up and down, increasing the intensity and the pressure. I could tell Eli was getting close to the edge; his breath sped up and his neck arched.
“Fuck, Zelda.” He ground out my name through a clenched jaw. “I’m going to come.”
“I know.” I pressed a wet, opened mouth kiss to the base of his erection. “I’m counting on it.” Between my legs, a throbbing ache built, but I ignored it. With any other guy, with any other situation, I would’ve added the increased visual stimulation of getting myself off at the same time, but the idea made me uncomfortable just now. I wasn’t sure if it was because I wanted what I was doing to be all about Eli—or if I was afraid involving my own pleasure might make this more like . . . true sex, something that benefitted both of us, a shared experience, instead of simply a gesture I was making.
A low, deep groan came from Eli’s chest, and I replaced my jerking hand with my mouth just in time to feel him spurt long and hard down my throat. His hand had returned to my neck, holding me in place, as if I had any intention of moving away before he was finished.
I continued to suck him, gentling my mouth now, letting him come down slowly and gradually. When I heard him blow out a long, deep breath, I straightened, running my fingers over the top of his thigh before I remembered that he couldn’t feel that touch.
His eyes stayed closed as I tugged his underwear and pants back into place. Crawling to the top of the bed, where his head rested on the pillows, I laid one hand alongside his cheek and murmured into his ear.
“Eli, you’re not a monk. It’s