Page 26 of Mensa's Match

“That’s obvious. Turn on the light before I do it.”

He leaned down and buried his face in my neck. Then I felt him playfully bite me there… and suck on my neck.

“Mensa!”

He sucked harder.

I gasped.

“Oh my God, you have to stop. I can’t have—”

He increased the pressure and I moaned while my traitorous hips bucked.

Suddenly he let me go and exhaled against me. “You can’t have a hickey? Too fuckin’ bad. You mouth off to me, I’m sucking on your sweet skin. Any-damned-where I please. Now, I’m turning on the light, and you’re gonna stay still.”

“Who made you the boss?”

“Not who, but what, baby. I got at least seventy pounds on you, and I’m damned sure gonna use them for the rest of the night.”

He leaned to the side and yellow-ish light flooded the room from the nightstand lamp.

I’d been trained to adjust to bright light, and in seconds, I saw the outline of his erection against his brick-red boxer-briefs. Instantly, I wanted his cock in my mouth.

He was quite right. I was bossy. I knew it, and I didn’t give damn. Even when others expressed their disdain (or disapproval) of my assertiveness, I didn’t back off. The bedroom wasn’t any different for me.

I shoved his boxer briefs down and his cock sprang free. Hair lined his crotch, but it was well-maintained. That wasn’t something I encountered most of the time, and I definitely liked it.

Dammit. I couldn’t think about the many things I appreciated about him.

No, I had to enjoy this night and that was it.

It had to be.

“Fuck,” Mensa groaned. “Woman, I told you—”

His words trailed off as though his train of thought broke. Likely because I shimmied my way down the bed under his frame until I was in position. If I wouldn’t feel bad about tearing them, I’d totally have ripped his underwear down the center… but that shit was harder than it looked with cotton boxer-briefs. Still, his hard cock was in my face, and I wasted no time licking up the shaft and guiding him into my mouth.

“Oh… goddammit,” he hissed.

My eyes crinkled with what would have been a grin, but my mouth was otherwise engaged. And did I ever engage. Mensa was thick, he had length, and he tasted damned good. After four bobs on his dick, he let out a frustrated growl and hauled himself away from me.

“Goddammit, Whitney. You’re not sucking me off right now.”

It might have been playing with fire, but I couldn’t keep myself from asking in a playful tone, “Not right now? So definitely later. You’re sure?”

He pushed forward and I fell to my back. His hands had gone up and under my sleep shirt; he found my panties, and heyanked them down. “Damn sure. Time to get my first taste of you.”

Using my legs, I helped him get my underwear off.

His eyes blazed at me. “Sleepshirt. Now. Or else, I tear it off.”

A huge part of me wanted to see him tear my clothes from me, but this wasn’t the time. With a short, excited exhale, I arched my back, pulled up the over-sized shirt until it bunched around my armpits, then leaned up, tore it over my head, and tossed it aside.

His eyes lit with fire now that I was naked. He brought his hands up my inner thighs, along my hipbones, to the outside of my torso and up, until both hands cupped my breasts.

“Oh… shit,” he breathed.

I chuckled. “That doesn’t sound good.”

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