Page 67 of So Close

“Do it.”

He was in the process of lifting his hand to his own mouth when he thought better of it and lowered it to hers. Her tongue came out, flat, wet, rasping against every fingerprint and groove, sending sensation thrilling up his arm. He brought it back to his cock, the strokes slicker now, more like her—and she knew it; a flush was rising in her face.

She did something and the hum of the device working between her legs edged up a notch.

“Did you just turn it up?”

She nodded, wordless.

“Does it feel good?”

“So good.”

“God, Auburn.”

“Not as good as when you lick me, though,” she said, almost conversationally, and he almost lost it.

“But I can’t watch you like this when I do that,” he said.

“No, you can’t.”

Her nipples were sharp points. He reached out his spare hand and stroked one, then the other.

“If you keep doing that I’m going to come,” she said.

“Yeah,” he said. “That’s what I want.”

“You, too,” she said.

“Yeah. Me too.”

He was. He was so close that each stroke felt dangerous in the best possible way.

He stopped stroking himself long enough to reach between her legs. She was swollen and soaking, and he covered his fingers in it and brought them back to his cock. He was close, his balls drawn up, his cock so big it felt like it was splitting the skin. Her eyes were riveted on the shiny skin over the head, on the drops of pre-cum forming there.

He hit the point of no return suddenly, the orgasm shooting up his spine, the pressure in his balls and tension in his limbs all releasing at once with white-hot pleasure. He came hard, all over her soft belly, and she watched the first thick white strand fall on her skin.

That was enough for her, apparently.

“Oh!” she said breathlessly, and her head thrashed from side to side on the pillow, her body bucking, as she came. She was unbelievably beautiful like that, all pleasure and abandon, his cum all over her stomach.

He cleaned them both up with a warm washcloth and lay down beside her, drawing her close against him. Breathing in lavender and the sea-scent of sex.

“Good little device you’ve got there.”

“I don’t remember it working that fast or making me come that hard the last time I used it.”

He chuckled and kissed her forehead. She snuggled closer.

And that was the last thing he remembered until morning.

33

Trey Xavier was eating pancakes.

And not just eating them, but consuming them with gusto, alternating bites of syrup-drenched hotcake with crispy bacon and fresh local berries.Andhis phone was nowhere to be seen.

She’d awakened around one a.m. with his arm thrown over her. In sleep, in the moonlight streaming in through the window, he’d looked as vulnerable as a little boy. His lashes trembled against his cheeks and his face was relaxed and guileless. He looked nothing like the man she’d first seen in Bob’s Tavern, and she’d been overwhelmed by tenderness. She’d curled against him and fallen back asleep.

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