Page 44 of Chasing Storm

He jerks back as if I slapped him. “Have you talked about my dick?”

Behind him, Erin projects, “No!” Without moving the rest of his body, he turns his head in her direction. “I mean, yes, we talk about guys, but she’s never said anything about yours.” When he angles back to me, she adds, “It’s not like I didn’t ask though.”

I can’t hold it in anymore and burst out laughing.

Joey returns behind the counter, plating our food, as he says, “We’re not done with this conversation.”

Erin mouths anI’m sorry. Joey leaves for a bit and returns, putting our plates in front of us.

It’s quiet for a while. Erin and I peek up at each other and then at Joey. I’m upset with myself for hurting him. Erin and I should have talked in private. I know guys talk about women, but Joey has one friend, and that’s Sean. Knowing that Sean’s gay, I doubt there was much sex banter between them.

I place my hand over his and say, “This is great, Love.” He nods without looking at me. From my periphery, Erin’s sawing at her lip with her teeth. “Joey?” He lets out a weakyes. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked Erin that question about Elijah, especially not in front of you.” Joey doesn’t acknowledge my apology. “I love you more than anal sex.” He drops his fork, and slowly turns toward me with his mouth agape. I nudge him and snicker. “Listen, Mr. Hotty. I think you’ve forgotten you’re my everything.” When he doesn’t change his demeanor, I add, “And I’m yours.” He’s still staring at me, so I push my lower lip out into a pout. “Please don’t be mad. I’ll make it up to you later if you forgive me.”

This gets his attention. He pulls me in for a deep kiss, and whispers against my lips that I’m forgiven. I wink at Erin, and we finish our lunch with small talk.

In the evening, tucked into our rooms, I gaze at my man, reading in bed. It’s our last night here, and I want to make up for my earlier behavior. Joey’s in boxer briefs, immersed in his sci-fi book, so I slip into the washroom to prepare. Under the sink, where I put a bucket of ice earlier, I pop an ice cube into my mouth. Unfortunately, I got my period, so I’m wearing a large T-shirt and underwear. The focus is on him tonight. Pleasuring him and talking dirty, even though I’ve never done it before. Joey let it slip in the past how the thought of me talking dirty gets him hard. I laugh as I say dirty words and phrases in the mirror. Maybe we’ll laugh at my attempt. I suck on another ice cube and retrieve some massage oil.

Joey’s still reading when I enter the room, and he doesn’t acknowledge my presence. Good. It will be more of a surprise. I light a couple of candles, come around to his side of the bed, and stand next to him. Now I have his attention.

“What are you doing?”

Picking up his bookmark from the bedside table, I place it between the open pages, close the book, and put it aside. I toss the oil on the bed, straddle his waist, and slink forward until we’re face-to-face, locking eye contact. My tongue skirts out, outlines his lips, while I gently circle my hips around his cock. His spiked breathing gives me the incentive to continue.

Breaking eye contact, I run the tip of my tongue along the shell of his ear, and whisper, “I want the swell of your cock...” I nibble his earlobe, blow a puff of air into his ear, continuing, “…in my mouth.”

Joey rests his hands on my hips, panting. Through his boxer briefs, I rock my hips downward and up, nestling the tip of his cock against my clit. This makes us both moan.

“Did you know I think about you when I masturbate?” I kiss across his jawline, eyes reconnecting with his, and continue the movement of my hips. “My pussy is soaking wet just thinking about you.”

He sucks in a breath fast. I sit up, eyes on his, pour oil into my hand, and rub them together to warm it. My butt lifts, feeling the absence of his cock. With my oiled hands, I coat his skin, massaging from the shoulders, down his arms, and over his chest and abs. Oh, these abs. Pillars of his physique. I slide my hands from abs to shoulders, massaging, and sailing back down.

Joey’s silent. His eyelids drooping, and he tilts his pelvis up to connect with my pussy. I kneel to avoid contact and waggle my finger at him.

“Soon.” My hands continue to massage his upper body. “Your dirty little bitch is going to make you come.” His eyes widen, breath hitches, and then he lets it out slowly. I press my finger against his lips when he attempts to talk. “Your cock belongs to me.”

The tops of my fingers slip inside his boxer briefs, guiding them down his legs as I move with them. I toss them to the floor and snuggle between his legs on my stomach. In the washroom, I covered the stitches, so I don’t snag them on anything.

Joey hasn’t broken eye contact once. Every move I make, he follows, and his pupils dilate from my dirty talk. I’m the one giving him pleasure, but watching him and his arousal just breaks whatever dam is inside me, soaking my core. Because my dirty talk gets him excited, I keep at it.

“My pussy is soaked.”

My oiled hand cups his balls, and my nose runs the length of his cock, breathing in his scent. Joey’s sweaty, primal, masculine scent mixed with his shower gel makes my mouth water. This dampens my tongue, tracing the thick vein underneath his cock. Up and down, slipping the head in, soaking it, popping it out of my mouth, hand moving in unison, and repeat. As I lick around his cock, the other hand massaging his balls, my pussy swells at his half-lidded eyes. He curls his fingers in my hair, thrusting up. I abandon his cock and balls, massaging his inner thighs.

Joey’s whispering words I can’t understand, but they’re words spoken in agony. A desire to find a release. But there’s no rush. Anticipation is as great as the buildup. More oil drips into my hand. Wrapping my hands around his cock and intertwining my fingers, I stroke his shaft, twisting the head, keeping a rhythm. He’s jutting into my hands. This isn’t the end. Not for me. I stop my strokes, lift his cock, and suck on one of his balls, fingers massaging his inner thighs and the crease of the joint. He’s heaving so much it can blow a tree down with his chest rising and falling. A shiver travels through his limbs.

His ball slips from my lips, and I say, “I’m going to drain your balls tonight.”

I take the other one in my mouth, drawing it in slowly and sucking. Fingers still oiled, I circle my finger over his butthole, and he clenches his butt cheeks. Releasing his ball, I return to his cock, my finger still massaging his starfish and the perineum. Soft, circular motions.

Before bobbing my head up and down his cock, I say, “Give me every last drop.” As my mouth encases his erection, forcing it further down my throat, tongue pressed against his shaft, I add more pressure to his perineum. It’s not long before thick warmth shoots down my throat. My mouth and tongue clean him while he recovers from his orgasm.

He grabs me underneath the arms, gliding me over his body.

Joey fists my hair to bring it back enough so we’re looking at each other, and he says, “I gave you every last drop.”

I lick my lips and say, “And I swallowed it all.”

His eyes dart between mine. “Never pegged you as the dirty talking type.”

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