Page 80 of Unforgettable

Moving closer, Oz stands in between my widespread legs and takes the glass cup out of my hand. “My sister will kill me if we’re late because we were too busy dicking down before her wedding, but if you’re quick with your breakfast, I’ll gladly suck you off.”

I tug at the waistband of his sweatpants. “I think it’s my turn, and I’ll happily switch out breakfast to have you in my mouth.”

“You don’t have to,” he protests weakly. His voice gruff, his body already responding to the idea. “But if you want to, I’m never going to say no to your mouth around my cock.”

I drag myself to the edge of the mattress and pull Oz’s pants down.

His thick cock slaps his stomach. “I can’t believe you’re already hard,” I say.

“It takes nothing to be hard around you.”

Knowing we’re short on time, and not finding any reason to wait, I wrap my fingers around the base of his shaft and cover his crown with my mouth. There’s no lead up or slow tease like usual, my only purpose being getting him off in record time.

Oz’s hand lands on the back of my head, guiding me up and down his length, pushing himself to hit the back of my throat.

Slowly, I drag myself off with a loud pop and then lower my mouth to his sac. Sucking on each of his balls while jacking him off.

“Open your mouth,” he orders hoarsely.

And I do.

My eyes lock on Oz, entranced by the way pleasure transforms his face. He lets his head fall back, eyes closed, the column of his throat on full display, as his Adam’s apple bobs in anticipation.

I open my mouth while continuing to stroke him to the finish line.

“Ah fuuuck,” he groans, lowering his head, his gaze stopping at my awaiting mouth as ropes of his come spurt out and land exactly where he wants them to.

Oz grips my chin, keeping me in place as his body shudders with his release. Before I can swallow his taste off my tongue, he presses his lips to mine, slipping his own tongue between the seam of my mouth, invading every corner, desperate to taste himself.

“How was breakfast?” He smirks, rearing his head slowly.

I chase his lips, kissing him again quickly. “Filling.”

* * *

Despite all the unknowns between Oz and me, I feel privileged to be witnessing the love shared between Oz and his family.

It’s not just because it’s Dixie’s wedding, or that I just watched all of them cry as Dixie and Archer exchanged their vows.

Even when I’ve been at their house for weekly dinners, there’s an effortless connection between all of them that emanates in the way they talk and laugh and love.

And today I feel part of it.

“Reeve,” Dixie calls out. “Come and get in the pictures. I need one with all of us, and you’re going to want one of just you and Oz. You both look so freaking cute today.”

My eyes find Oz, taking in the way his suit clings to his powerful frame. The blazer hugs him almost indecently, showing off the breadth of his shoulders, the width of his biceps, and the sinful way it tapers at his waist where he buttoned it up.

I didn’t argue with Dixie, even if every cell in my body told me not to be in the photos that would hang on their walls and last longer than Oz and I ever would.

Walking toward the photographer, I slide my hand into my pocket, drag out my cell, and offer it to him. “Do you think you can take a few photos on my phone too?” I ask. “Please. I’d love to have my own copy.”

The young man doesn’t balk at my request, just takes the cell and nods at me ever so slightly.

It might be stupid, but even heartbroken, I know I’m going to want a way to commemorate Oz and this day.

When I reach him and his sisters, he extends his arm out for me and pulls me in for a relaxed, comfortable kiss.

“Which photos do you want first?” the photographer shouts while adjusting his camera.

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