Until We Crash - Michele G Miller Page 0,61

most of all," I say, raising my arms as she jerks my undershirt over my head and tosses it to the floor. "I can't breathe when I'm with you," I admit, bracing my arms on either side of her head.

Her fingers flip my shorts’ button, and she dives in, pulling at my boxes and dragging them over my hips and ass, before ducking under my arm and circling behind me. Cupping me, her mouth closes over my shoulder. The flat of her tongue gives a little suction as she applies pressure between my legs.

Fuck. My vision blurs from the need pulsating in my veins.

"Turn around." Her husky whisper skims my ear before she traces the shell with her mouth. "I’m ready to satisfy my curiosity."

I spin, and she sinks to her knees. Capturing her thick hair, I twist the strands around my fist and hold it back, my fingertips finding her scalp and massaging.

"You don't—"

Mother. Fucking. Hell.

I jerk as she takes hold of my dick and runs her tongue underneath the full length.

She peeps up through dark lashes. "Wanna hear my list?" she asks, swirling the crown of my head with the tip of her tongue. I groan my answer, attempting a head bob.

"I can't stop thinking about what you feel like when you're moving in me." Her grip tightens at the base of my dick. "And I can't stop wondering what you taste like." She reclines on her heels and pumps, then laps the bead of pre-cum at my tip. Licking her lips, her free hand wraps around and digs into my ass.

"I can't stop wondering why my draw to you is so intense," she says, and I close my eyes as her mouth takes me fully. Her cheeks hollow, and I'm losing touch with reality. Whatever she does, I'm a fucking mess as she works herself into a frenzy pleasuring me. My balls tighten, and sensations tickle down my shaft and through my lower stomach.

"Ah, fuck." My murmurs are incoherent, and I cup the side of her head with my free hand and force my eyes open, seeking to meet hers. The vision of my dick gliding in and out of her mouth destroys me. "Jess? Shit, I'm close." I tighten my grip in her hair and press my ass into the wall for space.

Her eyes meet mine, and she accepts me deeper. "I can't…" My legs tense and holy fuck, I pull her hair enough to yank her mouth from dick before I release, my cum painting over her chest and onto the floor. Thank fuck for wood flooring.

She glances at her chest and a chunk of her hair—the hair I released when I cupped my dick to stop my ejaculation to no avail—falls over her shoulder and obscures part of her face. Her brow wrinkles as she wets her lips. "The worst part, though," she says so low I wish I had the space to kneel beside her so I can hear better. "Is how I can't stop wondering how hard I'll crash when this is over."

Fuck. That twists my gut. I haven't considered it … haven't thought about how I'll feel the morning I wake up, and she's back in College Station. There's nothing I can do about that reality, but we have eight weeks until we're there.

Removing her hand from my thigh, I tug her up, kicking off my shorts and boxers. I eye the sticky mess I created once she's on her feet. "Take a shower with me?" Looking down, she smirks, and I grin like a proud kid showing off his art project. "Yeah, sorry about that." Mentally I'm pounding my chest, saying, 'fuck yeah, look at what I did!'

"Mm-hmm. You look real sorry, Picasso."

I steal a kiss and lead her to the bathroom. Her thumbs edge her panties as I turn on the shower, and I stop her.

"Turnabout is fair play, Little Aggie." Testing the water temperature with my hand, I knock my head toward the shower. "In."

She doesn't ask before squeezing between the glass door and me with her panties on. I hop in, and my chest bumps against her backside as the mist of water spraying around her body sends goosebumps over my skin. My hands grip her hips and push her further under the stream for shared warmth.

"I knew I smelled tea tree on you," she says with a light laugh. She reaches forward, and I peer over her shoulder as she pops the top from my body

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