Page 43 of He Falls First

Look at those abs. Does he Photoshop them on every morning or what? And those biceps could have their own Instagram following.

Then he drops his underwear, and I’m pretty sure my eyeballs are about to register for unemployment because they’ve seen everything they need to see in life. Is that even… What the… How is that going to…

“Jesus, Hendrix, do you carry a weapon permit for that thing?”

“Only if you consider making you scream my name a crime,” he retorts, a rare flash of humor gleaming in his eyes.

I’m all out of jokes as he grabs me by the hips and his hands set fire to my skin. I’m nothing but a whirlwind of sensation and need. This man, this infuriatingly complicated man, is about to be all mine—for tonight, at least. And I am so ready to let him in.

Hendrix steps closer, all heat and desire, and I brace myself. His mouth descends, and I’m a bundle of nerves wrapped in a thin layer of oh-my-god-this-is-happening. He moves down to my neck and his tongue paints strokes of pleasure across my skin. I can’t help but squirm. Every little touch leaves me desperate for the next.

I’m sprawled across the bed, a tangle of nerves and raw desire as Hendrix moves down my body. He’s between my thighs, lips hovering just above where I need him most.

Suddenly I’m feeling shy—ridiculous, I know, considering that I pretty much just marched in here and demanded this. My hands flutter down, an attempt to push him away, but he catches my wrists gently yet firmly.

“Don’t do that,” he rumbles, voice low and laced with unabashed hunger. “When a man is this eager to taste you, Lizzy, you don’t shy away. You take your pleasure from him. You deserve to be worshiped.”

I swallow hard. The commanding timber of his words melts me. So I let go, clasping my hands above my head and reclining back into the pillows.

And then Hendrix Monroe dives into me.

“Oh!”

His tongue is thick and wide like his fingers, but this is a whole new experience. He plunges it into my pussy and pulls it out with a long, slow curve, his throat rumbling like he’s tasting something even more delectable than tonight’s chocolate mousse. Then he adds his fingers, like he’s choreographed a whole dance of touch and taste just for my pleasure alone.

And when his tongue finds my clit, I yell out again—“Oh!”—because there’s nothing I can do to hold it back with that pulsing, wet pleasure taking over me.

I hate to think of those losers from my past at a time like this, but come on. Some of them flat-out refused to perform oral sex. Of the ones who did, I’m just now realizing that they didn’t even try to make it worthwhile.

But Hendrix? He’s giving me all his effort, and more. His tongue is a whole revelation. The room blurs, narrowing down to the point of contact where his mouth meets my flesh, and I know it’s coming. An orgasm bigger than I ever knew possible.

The feeling crescendos, rippling through me. Hendrix has to hold me still to keep me in place, and he makes sure he does, muscles flexing as he grabs hold of my thighs and keeps me right where his tongue keeps lapping at me.

“Hendrix!” I’m crying out his name like he’s leading me through a damn exorcism.

And maybe he is. This climax isn’t just a physical release—it’s like pushing out every self-doubt I’ve ever had, warding it all away with my own juices instead of holy water. Pleasure cascades through me, so intense it borders on pain, and I’m pretty sure my toes are never going to uncurl again.

Now I’m floating back down from the high, flushed and panting, and you’d think I’d be spent, but I’m so ready for more. I can’t believe it.

“Hendrix, I- I’ve never felt this eager,” I confess. “With other guys, it was like... I don’t know, a chore? But with you, I’m practically begging you to—”

“Get the fuck inside you?” he finishes for me, looking up at me with a searing gaze.

“Exactly,” I say with a shy grin. “I’ve never been so ready for anything in my life.”

“Good,” he says. “Because I plan on making you feel even better.”

“Promises, promises,” I tease, though my heart is pounding like a jackhammer. “But you should know, I’m not usually this, um, forward.”

“Only with me, then?” Hendrix asks, a wicked gleam in his eye as he positions himself between my thighs.

“Must be your dazzling personality,” I shoot back.

“Or maybe it’s because you know I’ll take care of you,” he says. There’s something more than lust in his voice—something tender that makes my chest ache.

“Don’t make me wait, Mr. Monroe. I mean, we have a contract and everything, right?”

“Right,” he says, his lips twitching in amusement. “The contract. Which, by the way, stipulates birth control and clear STD tests. So, protection isn’t an issue, unless you’ve been hiding something from me?”

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