Page 88 of Exes and O's

I can’t find the words to express my gratitude, so I slip out from underneath him, shifting my weight on top of him. For the firsttime, he relinquishes control. He lets me hold him down, a smile tugging at his lips as I retrace all the artwork adorning his chest with my lips. I’m taking my sweet time, savoring the moment, moving over each line of his abs, one by one, like he’s a gourmet feast.

By the time I finally take his length in my hand, he shudders, letting out an unexpected groan that does something to my insides in the best way. It’s oddly gratifying to have such an impact on him without really doing anything at all.

“You don’t have to do this,” he says, lifting my chin with a single finger.

“I want to.” There’s nothing I want more than to hear how he sounds when I take him in my mouth. I want to see what he looks like when he comes undone.

“I can’t believe you’re right in front of me like this.” His words quiver with raw emotion, letting his hand roam down my back.

“How much have you thought about me doing this to you?”

“More than you want to know,” he admits.

I squeeze him a little harder, feeling the pulse of his blood pumping. “Tell me exactly.”

“Since the day you moved in, I wanted you,” he manages. “I’ve never wanted someone so bad in my entire life. You’ve wrecked me.”

When I give him a teasing lick, he lets out a string of breathy curses. “Holy fuck.”

I release him for a split second. “Is that good?”

“I—I can’t speak right now,” he says, breathless, which tells me all I need to know. He lets his head fall to the pillow as I settle into what I can tell is the perfect speed. Even submitting, he’s stilldominating, threading his fingers through my hair, holding me in place, how he wants it.

I watch his hand twist the sheets for grip as my pace picks up. Given the earth-shattering orgasm he just gave me, I’m eager to pull out all the stops. Apparently, he’s found the strength to speak again. And judging from all the filthy things coming out of his mouth—how much he loves my mouth, how wet he imagines I am, all things that could make even the most seasoned romance readers blush—I’m confident in my abilities.

When he’s done, he pulls me upward by the biceps and folds me over him. We lay like that for a few moments, skin to skin, chests heaving in unison.

“Can I ask you something?” I blurt out.

“No,” he chuckles, running his fingers up and down my spine.

I ask anyway. “Was it okay?”

“Was what okay?”

I give him a sideways glare. “You know.”

I can tell by the devilish smirk on his face that he knows exactly what I’m talking about. “You’re bad at a lot of things.” He lets that statement linger in the air for a few beats too long. “But believe me, blow jobs aren’t one of them.”

I nuzzle into his chest and peek up at him.

“You never listen to me,” he says, his lips curled into a boyish grin. “I thought I told you never to let me kiss you again.”

A bubble of laughter escapes me as he traces the pad of his finger over my shoulder. “That’syour idea of kissing?”

He squeezes me tighter against him. “Was it as bad as you claimed the first time?”

“Wow, I really bruised your ego, didn’t I?” I swing him a side eye, contemplating letting him out of his misery.

“I mean, yeah. You said I was the worst kiss you’d ever had.”

I run my hand over his cheek, curving at his jaw. “Metcalfe, you were a perfectly fine kisser. I couldn’t let your head explode,” I tell him. “Listen, I’m not a good judge, because for me, it’s less about the mechanics. It’s all about—”

“The emotion,” he cuts in knowingly.

“Exactly. So, while your kiss that day was fine, I thought there wasn’t anything behind it. No deeper feelings or anything.”

“Well, now you know that wasn’t true.”

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