Page 62 of The Sinner's Sanctuary

“No.”

“Then what? You’re making me nervous.”

“You shouldn’t be so nosy. The answer might freak you out.”

“How is that not flirting?”

He gives me half a grin. “I was just thinking of ways to keep you from kissing me.”

“Besides the body language?” I ask, waving my hand to remind him he’s got me effectively blocked. “What’d you come up with?”

“It’s probably too much,” he says.

I give him my best deadpan look. “Have you seen what I do for a living?”

“You know,” he says, his tone broadening as he sets his empty glass on the ottoman. “I don’t have a ton of experience with men, either. I wouldn’t say I’m bi in name only, but I’ve never had sex with a man, for example.”

“No?”

“I’m pretty inexperienced, but I have an adventurous mindset.”

I nod carefully. “I’m willing to hear you out.”

He moves, his long legs unfolding as he stands to tower over me. I open my legs, and he steps between them before kneeling on the floor. I watch his face and the intense look in his eyes on his way down. My dick stiffens at the sight of him there, broad shoulders crowded between my thighs.

“Okay, that’s hot,” I say in a strangled whisper. My heart is pounding so hard it’s going to crack a rib. My cock seems to rise more with each beat.

“Just this once,” he says.

I nod, repeating the words exactly. “Just this once.”

19

CHRISTIAN

Name me one good decision anyone’s ever made after gulping six ounces of tequila. A clever workaround, maybe, but not smart.

Still. He’s had me hot since the elevator, and what better way to get to know a man than by learning to suck his cock? He can tell me everything I need to know about him while I’m a captive audience.

He wastes no time unbuckling his belt, unhooking his slacks and tugging down the zipper. His bulge is noteworthy, and I wet my lips in anticipation. “You can keep talking,” I say. “Tell me about yourself.”

“I think all my brain cells are in my dick.”

I tip my chin toward it. “Show me.”

“Fuck,” he growls, rubbing his bulge but not pulling it out. “Is this who I am?”

I don’t feel like that question is directed my way, so I just watch his bulge get bigger, wondering if he’ll be one of the rare men in a basement alone with another man who can resist this. I bet those numbers are minimal; I don’t care how straight you are.A blow job is a blow job, and he knows I’m discreet. It’s in the job description.

“I’m so fucking tempted,” he goes on, trying to talk himself into or out of it.

I keep my hands off him, even though I’d kill to run my hands up those thick thighs. His hand moves over his dick again and again, gripping it through his boxer briefs.

“Are you sure you want this?” he asks.

“Yeah.” It’s not even a question. The set up is great—it’s both of our first times. I mean, I’m sure he’s had his dick sucked plenty, but not by a guy. And if it’s anything like my first time with the bartender, the novelty factor alone was ninety percent of the turn-on. I’m not nervous enough to tell him any of this, though. My enthusiasm is off the charts, mouth already watering in anticipation.

He decides his internal battle, and his hand shifts, reaching behind the elastic and drawing out a cock that shouldn’t surprise me but still manages to. He’s taller than me. Bigger than me. Makes sense he’s hung like a goddamn stallion.

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