Page 72 of From Maybe to Baby

As my mouth slides back to his purple head, I lick the drop of fluid that rests there before swirling my tongue around the tip. I squeeze his shaft and go deep once again, pulling back, my eyes peeking up at him, watching him, watching me.

He grabs his cock and lays me back again, dragging his tongue, and dipping lower toward my pussy. Once again, he drags a finger through my folds and I stroke my fingers through his unruly hair.

“My God, Jonas?—"

My legs are trembling. My entire body is shaking.

“Oh, I’m not done with you yet, baby. Face the wall and bend at the waist,” he tells me, extending a hand to help me off the bed.

I do as he says, placing my palms against the wall and thrust my ass toward him. He comes up behind me and presses his fingers into my hips, positioning himself at my entrance. Then, in one slow thrust, he enters me roughly.

I brace myself against the wall and press back against him. His fingers dig into my flesh as he strokes long and hard.

I press back against him and with a holler, he comes.

Still shaking, Jonas leads us to the bed and lowers us. With my arms wrapped around his neck, I press my head against his chest and marvel over… everything.

"This is... different."Ryan's voice, coming through my phone speaker, sounds surprised. Maybe concerned. Definitely suspicious. "Where's your usual snark?"

I glance at my laptop screen, at the article I finally finished at three a.m. when I couldn’t sleep, after Jonas scooted back to his suite. Ryan wasted no time reviewing it.

"It's still snarky," I defend. "Just... different snarky."

"Alexa, you wrote an entire paragraph about watching a child's first surf lesson."

"That's snarky. You know, the part about how they look like drunk seals flopping around."

"Lovingly. You mentioned it lovingly."

I wince. He's not wrong. Somewhere between "professional distance" and "totally compromised," my writing voice copped... feelings.

I’m in so much trouble. I can’t even write the way I usually do.

Fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck.

"It's just a different angle," I try. "Speaking of angles..."

"Oh no," he groans

"What if?—"

"Alexa."

"Hypothetically—"

"Here it comes."

"What if I did a piece on San Francisco?"

Silence.

"Family-friendly San Francisco," I clarify, like that makes it better. "You know, parks and museums and..."

"Hockey games, Alexa?"

"That's not what I mean?—"

"Because it's interesting timing, considering the Aftershocks' season starts next month," Ryan says.

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