Page 41 of Gunner

“Take off your pants. I want to see what I’m working with here.”

He unzips his jeans, kicks off his heavy biker boots, and pulls everything down. His cock springs free, thick and more than impressive.

I slap both hands over my mouth. “Seriously? That’s a tree trunk. Why didn’t you warn me that you have a porn star dick?”

He automatically bends and reaches for his jeans, but I scramble off the bed and stop him. I wrap my hand around the base of his monster dick and add the other. He has to be ten inches at least.

It was a mistake getting naked. No matter how many orgasms we give each other, it’s never going to feel as good as taking him inside of me.

I can’t let him see me hesitate again.

I take him to the bed and let him spread out. He doesn’t protest like the night he did when he was sick and hurt. My mind goes back to what he looked like in my bed that night, how I shamelessly stayed up watching him. I mean, watchingoverhim.

“For the record, I didn’t know if you were on birth control or not. You can learn a lot if you just stay silent long enough.”

My head snaps up. His eyes are actually sparkling, but that might just be the lamplight.

“That’s not fair.”

“I don’t play nicely.”

I kneel over his legs, which spreads my own out wide. He tenses up again. I get that this is hard for him. He might be twice my size, but he’s on his back, naked, about to do something incredibly vulnerable. No matter how much he wants this, I’m willing to bet everything that Gunner has never known any real intimacy. He’s probably never done light kissing or kissing just for the sake of it. Has he ever cuddled with anyone or been held?

It hurts too much to think about him as a kid having to fend for himself, dreaming of nothing but survival, digging and clawing his way to the top for a roof over his head and food to eat, but thinking about him later, when he could take care of himself, when his aura probably drew women to him, nearly cuts off my airway with jealousy.

I surge up, grasp his shoulders, and kiss him. I start rough and desperate, just like the kisses we shared in the kitchen, but slow down. I savor the taste and the warmth of him. He’s a good kisser. His lips are soft and perfect, but his stubble makes just enough of a burning scrape on my skin.

I run my tongue along his lower lip. He tenses up again, his muscles going rock hard beneath me, but then tentatively, he does the same to me. He’s a fast learner and soon my head is spinning and he’s making animal noises of pleasure against my mouth. I kiss him back with everything I have, holding onto him like I’m never going to let him go.

He’s the one who breaks the contact, but he closes his eyes and curls his hand around the back of my neck. He presses our foreheads together, letting us just breathe.

I need more.

I guide his cock and sit back, making him slick with my arousal. I do it again, teasing along his length without putting him inside of me. I rise up again, the head of his cock jamming against my clit so that I curse I Italian under my breath.

I torture him like that for a few more passes until I’m so tortured too that it’s either reposition myself or take him inside of me so that I don’t die a thousand deaths right here for wanting him.

I slip backwards, sleek as a cat, with far more grace than I’ve managed all evening. Now that I’m positioned above him, one hand on the base of his cock, staring down at him, I can see how beautiful he is. All over.

I bow my head, taking just the tip of him into my mouth.

He jerks beneath me, a muscle twitch, but from the sheer pleasure. I understand. I felt the same way the second his hot mouth landed on me, ruining me for anyone else.

I suck his head, rolling my tongue over all of him, tasting and exploring. Even this much of him makes me jaw ache. I have to pull back several times to swallow and breathe, but I don’tmake it obvious. I lick his tip, lap up the precum leaking from him, roll my tongue over the underside and trace a few of the veins lower.

I take him into my mouth again, cautiously and carefully, wrapping my hand around as much of his shaft as I can so that this is good for him even though I’m only going to be able to take about half of him at best. He’s so big that his cock could break a person, no matter where it’s going.

I jack him with my hand, sliding it up and down the warm, satiny skin as I do my best to lick and suck him.

Now he’s the one who swears in Italian, and it ignites something in me, the knowledge that I’ve managed to break through his cover to the man beneath.

He doesn’t grasp my hair or guide my head. He’s not going to ram his cock down my throat, even though his hips do thrust slightly. I don’t think he can stop them anymore than I can stop myself from leaking down my thighs as I’m crouched here.

I take my free left hand and snake it between my legs.

I moan around his dick as I make contact with my still far too sensitive clit. Touching myself only makes me more desperate to pick up the pace for him.

As I slip three fingers into my entrance, I move my mouth back and forth faster, sucking harder, using my tongue like I’ve been possessed by a demon. He thrusts harder and faster too, fucking up into my face, helping me. I keep a firm grip on the base of him. This is so intimate. He’s trusting me with this. Trusting himself. I can feel how close he is to letting his control slip. He let it slip that night in the yard and I’m not sure if he’s fully regained it since. I can’t imagine what that must feellike. Probably like a car barreling straight towards a guardrail, knowing it will never hold.

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