Page 19 of Mistle-Ho

“I don’t know what sort of magic you’ve got in that hand of yours, Al, but I’ve never gotten off from a handjob until you.”

I’ve always felt a little behind when it comes to sexual experience. Yes, I’ve done it, but it was never much more than a couple minutes of lackluster thrusting that did less than nothing for me. As a result, just like oral, I didn’t really get what all the excitement was about.

But the way Gavin’s lips part and his eyes glaze as he watches my hand move over him makes me realize I formed an opinionusing incomplete information. Because this? This is freaking hot as hell.

One of his big hands moves to grip my hip, holding me in place as his body crowds mine. The position we’re in is almost exactly how we’d be if we were fucking. Even the movement of his body is similar as he flexes his thighs, tunneling into my grip.

Again, I’m regretting the parameters I put out, because I’m clenching at the thought of those strokes filling me, and it has my need building at record speed.

Gavin’s fingers sink into the softness of my hip as he groans, spearing into my hand one more time as heat splashes across my belly.

Last time this happened it was a surprise. I was more shocked than anything. But tonight, I knew exactly what I was in for. I still don’t know that I love being covered in jizz, but at least none of my clothes were in the line of fire.

Now that he’s done, I’m a little uncertain what to do next. I lie very still because I don’t want anything sliding off my body and onto my couch. The only sex I’ve had was always a quick missionary ride with a condom. Definitely nothing that involved cleanup of this caliber.

Gavin’s hooded gaze skims over my belly and the glistening lines across it. I could almost swear I hear a hint of that earlier rumble, but it disappears before I’m fully able to identify the sound. Gavin blinks a couple times before finally tearing his gaze from my body. He leans to retrieve his T-shirt, then uses the soft cotton to clean me up.

The tenderness in his movements would be easy to read into, and it has me reminding myself what this is. “I guess now we’re even. We both had clothing get victimized.” I’m trying to tease him, but teasing isn’t my strong suit, so it comes out a little dry. A little sarcastic.

Gavin’s gaze lifts to mine and it doesn’t carry an ounce of amusement. Guess I should leave the teasing up to him.

He leans closer, tossing his soiled shirt away as the weight of his body presses me into the sofa. When his lips are less than an inch from mine and our noses are nearly touching, he stops and looks me straight in the eye. “Actually, I don’t think we’re even at all.” His hands slide up my thighs, lifting them higher on his hips. “The score is two to one now, Al. I’m still behind.”

I rub my lips together, because with his face so close, I’m struggling to think of anything besides the fact that we haven’t actually kissed. “That is true.”

“What if,” he leans to one side, the warmth of his lips brushing along the line of my jaw, “we take a little break and watch one of those movies you like? See where we end up?”

I offer a breathy, “Okay.” It’s an easy agreement to make. He did say he owed me one, right? I might as well let him stick around until I get it.

The hard lines of Gavin’s big body seem to relax a little, and when he leans back, there’s a hint of a smile teasing his lips as he reaches to collect my clothes. Grabbing my T-shirt, he gathers it up around the neckline. “Sit up.”

My eyes jump to where my bra is sitting, ignored. “I think you’re forgetting something.”

Gavin’s eyes drop down my chest, resting squarely on my boobs. “I’ll put it on if you really want, but I’m going to be trying to take it back off in under five minutes, so I figured I’d save us both a little time.”

I frown, even though his plan sounds pretty appealing. “It’s uncomfortable when they’re not supported.”

I like my boobs. Love them, even. But the bitches are high maintenance. They eliminate lots of shirt options, need special bras, and make it impossible to sleep on my stomach. I stillwouldn’t change them for the world, but sitting on the couch with them going every which way doesn’t sound like a fun night.

“I didn’t say they were going to be unsupported.” Gavin doesn’t wait for a response, just tugs my shirt over my head and starts pulling it into place. “I promise I’ll take good care of them.”

I roll my eyes even though I kind of believe him. And I can’t say I hate the thought of Gavin’s hands on my tits all night. But the main reason I stop arguing, is because Gavin is taking care of more than just his mess and my boobs.

His touch is careful as he settles my shirt over my upper half then retrieves my panties and pants, carefully skimming them back into place before pulling on his own underwear. He ignores his jeans, leaving them where they lie before turning to head for my kitchen. “You want something to drink?”

“Sure?” I’m back to being thrown off again. My parents have a great marriage. One I’ve always based my hopes for the future on. But their relationship leans a little to the traditional side, so my mom is always the one collecting drinks while my dad sits on the couch.

I watch—still a little shocked—as Gavin opens my fridge and scans the contents. “Water or Coke Zero?”

Normally I’m just as protective of my private space as I am my personal space, but seeing Gavin’s hulking form in my kitchen is so bizarre, I struggle to come up with a coherent answer. “Coke, I guess?”

He grabs a can and a bottle of water, holding the latter up. “I’m taking one of these too.”

“Good idea.” I swallow hard as he twists the cap free and tips it back, guzzling down half in one go. “You should probably hydrate.”

He flashes me a grin, lips still wet and glistening. “That sounds promising, Al.”

Was that how I meant it? A suggestion of what was to come? Sadly, no.

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