Page 141 of Pucking Strong

The command in his tone sends a shiver through me. Taking his hand, I lead him deeper into the back of the apartment. Call me paranoid, but this would be the perfect moment for our niece to wake up and come rolling into the damn living room on her new puppy scooter.

Henrik looks around as we walk into the bedroom. “I thought you said no bed?”

“Just come with me.” Feeling confident in my drunken mobility, I turn, walking backwards through the bathroom and into the closet. The lights blink on, illuminating Henrik’s gorgeous rows of designer suits. Other lights glow in the cubbies for his shoes, dress shirts, denim, and sweaters. “You started something earlier in here,” I tease, backing until I press myself up against the shelf of sweaters. “Come finish it.”

Wasting no time, Henrik boxes me in. One hand grips the shelf by my head while the other cups my face as he kisses me, parting my lips with his tongue. I sigh into the kiss. Fuck, he’s so good at this. He may not have had much practice, but he’s a quick study. His kisses are soft and firm at the same time. Deliberate. He likes to change his approach, learning my reactions when he nips at my lips or flicks with his tongue.

Desperate for more, I slip my hands under his shirt. It’s a short-sleeve linen button-down. The top of the collar is open, showing just a hint of that chest hair he was teasing me with earlier. He groans as my hands brush over the warm skin of his stomach. He’s like afurnace. I’ve noticed that when we sleep too. His metabolism is so high, always working in overdrive. He’s like my own personal sun.

Not for the first time, I accept that I’m the Icarus in this relationship. I don’t know when, and I don’t know how, but I’m going to fall. Harder than I’ve already fallen for him. In this moment, there’s only one thing I want: I want to fall to my knees. Brushing my lips to his, I push him gently away. “Do you want more?”

He opens his eyes, panting for breath. “Vad?”

I smile against his mouth, wrapping my hands around to stroke the small of his back. “Do you want more, baby? Do you want me to make you feel good?”

“Teddy.” He says my name like a plea.

I drop my hands to the top of his pants, making my intentions clear. “I wanna make you feel so fucking good. Do you trust me?”

Holding my gaze, he nods.

We keep our eyes locked on each other as I undo his belt. “Say stop, and it stops, okay?”

He nods again.

“Teach me in Swedish.” I press a kiss to his lips. “Teach me, baby. Say ‘stop.’”

With one hand, he cups my face. “Sluta.”

My drunken brain tattoos it to my memory. “Easy enough. Say it in English or Swedish, and it all stops.”

He kisses me again. “Don’t stop.” As if to prove his eagerness, he drops his hands to my shoulders and pushes gently, guiding me down to my knees.

My senses are going haywire. I’m on my knees in Henrik Karlsson’s closet, and I’m unbuttoning his pants. I’m about to suck his dick. Gazing up at him, I slowly work his zipper, opening his fly. Then my fingers hook into the top of his khakis, and I pull them down around his muscled thighs.

His hardness is right there, waiting for me. Henrik is hard for me. Hewantsme. I can’t wait another second for what I want. I press my face to his crotch over his briefs, breathing him in. The scent of his raw, masculine energy has me dripping in my pants. Fuck, he smells so good.

Grabbing his hips tight with both hands, I nuzzle his crotch, letting my parted lips brush over his shaft through the fabric of his briefs. He groans, sinking back against the closet shelf. “Teddy … tell me what to do.”

I smile up at him, cupping him with my hand over his briefs. He twitches with eagerness. I can see it in his eyes. I feel it in his touch. He wants more. Knowing it has me flying. “You don’t have to do a thing. Just feel it all, baby. And enjoy.”

Hooking my fingers into the top of his briefs, I slowly pull them down, freeing his cock. It hangs in my face, uncut and ready. Fuck, it’s so beautiful. I’ve waited for this for so long, and here it is, hard and aching, already dripping for me. I just know that getting him off is gonna get me off harder than I’ve ever come in my life.

But this isn’t about my pleasure. This moment is all about pleasing Henrik, showing him how this can feel. Holding to his hips, I do the thing I’ve been dreaming of doing for six long years. Eyes closed in bliss, I lick along his cut V-line from above his hip, down to his crotch. Pressing my face into the soft thatch of his pubic hair, I breathe him in again.

Henrik groans, one hand dropping down to fist my hair tightly. “Sluta inte.”

“What?”

“Don’t stop.”

Ican’t breathe. Can’t think. Teddy’s face is pressed against my crotch, his warm breath is fanning over my hard cock, and it feels so good. My legs feel like they’re made of jelly as I hold tight to his hair. “Don’t stop,” I say again. Who knows if I’m speaking English or Swedish?

This is good. Whatever he’s doing, this feels good. He peppers warm, open-mouthed kisses across my hip bones and over my thighs, his hands soft and caressing. He hasn’t even touched my cock yet.

“Please,” I whisper.

Surely, he knows what he’s doing, right? As much as it makes me irrationally upset to think of him with other men, it must be a virtue in this moment. Teddy knows what he’s doing. I can trust him. Nothing he’s done so far has made me feel uncomfortable.

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