Page 147 of Snowed In

“I know. You told me.”

“I might really be bad at it.”

“Trust me. You won’t be,” I say as I fist the sheets and bite down on my bottom lip.

His hand reaches out tentatively and he strokes it. My cock jumps in his grip and he wets his lips.

“You have a nice penis,” he says and then runs his thumb over the tip of me, fiddling with the barbell through my cockhead. “I like the piercing.”

“Thanks,” I wheeze when he smears precum across my dick. I honestly may come just from this. He may never get a chance to stick his mouth on me.

Honestly, I’d be fine either way. The fact he’s touching me at all is making me hornier than I have any right to be. I’ve been with so many people—men and women—but for some reason, all other experiences pale when compared to this.

Why is this so good?

Because it’s him.

I shake that thought away and then gasp when his fist tightens onme. I spread my legs a little wider and his other hand moves to my balls, rolling them in his palm and making my eyes cross.

“I’m gonna try it now,” he says, shifting down a little closer to my dick. I let out a small, ugly whimper. Pathetic is what I am, but the minute his breath hits my cock, I bite back a cry.

Oh fuck. Ohfuuuuuck.

The tip of his tongue swipes across my cockhead, and I arch up, seeking more, and he gives it to me. He presses his lips to the weeping tip and sucks gently.

“Fuck. Fuck,” I hiss and then bite my tongue to shut up. Don’t seem so pathetic, don’t act so fucking stupid. But it’s hard when his mouth moves slowly down and his tongue fiddles with my piercing.

“How am I doing?” he asks, his words sliding across my cock like a sweet caress.

“Good. Really good. A plus.”

He grins and then gets back to it, taking more of me. Slowly. Murdering me with how long this is taking. It’s the sweetest torture.

He hums happily as he takes more of me, testing out how far back into his throat he’s comfortable taking me. He’s actually taking me really fucking far, so far in fact that I bottom out in the back of his throat and lose the ability to breathe entirely.

“Christian. What the fuck!”

He pulls off me, my dick straining toward him, wanting more of whatever that was, and he grins at me. “I don’t have a gag reflex.”

“Holy shit,” I reply, my eyes wide.

“I didn’t know it would come in handy, but I think I’m really good at this.”

He says it almost shyly before leaning down and taking me into the back of his throat again. I can’t help it anymore, can’t take it. My hands slide into his hair and hold on for dear life as he starts bobbing his head, swallowing around me, and then pulling off, only to do it again. For someone who’s never sucked dick, this is fucking good.

This is the best blow job I’ve ever had.

And I’ve had a lot.

Nothing compares.

I’m writhing beneath him, and I can tell I’m close. I’m so close to fucking release.

I tug on his hair, trying to warn him, but he just gently removes my hands, entwining his fingers with mine and I can’t hold back, can’t stop the rush moving up my thighs and through my cock. My orgasm comes with a roar, my vision whiting out, my ears ringing. I swear I almost pass out, and still, he doesn’t stop. His throat works around me as he groans and hums, swallowing it all and I come again, another burst that makes me see stars, the galaxy, the fucking universe.

When he finally pulls off, he swipes at his swollen lips and grins shyly at me.

“You screamed my name,” he says softly and I huff, rubbing at my eyes and trying like hell to deny it. But honestly, I probably did. Right now, the entirety of me, in this moment, begins and ends with him.

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