Page 77 of Chips & Checks
I kneel between his legs, heart hammering. I’ve seen a lot of things in a medical context. I’ve studied human anatomy front to back. But nothing prepared me for the devastating visual of Bowen Murphy, flushed and hard, his pierced cock resting against his abs, twitching with anticipation.
“Touch me,” he rasps. “Show me you want it. That you’re just not doing it to placate me.”
I wrap one hand around the base of his length, marveling at the smooth, heated skin. “You’re so beautiful like this.”
He hisses through his teeth. “Like that, baby. That’s so good.”
The praise hits me like a jolt of lightning, so I take my time.
My fingers wrap around the base of his cock as I study him—really study him. The weight. The heat. The heavy pulse against my palm. I press a kiss to the crown, then another, the kind of slow, reverent touch I’d give to something sacred. And maybe that’s what this is. Not just him. Not just us. But this—the choosing, the letting go, the power in pleasure.
“Bowen,” I murmur, my breath brushing his tip. “Tell me what you like.”
His head tips back against the couch. “You. I like you. Doing whatever you want to me.”
I laugh softly, nerves curling into something headier. I lean in and drag my tongue from base to tip, savoring every inch. He lets out a wrecked sound, hips twitching just once before he reins it in. I do it again, slower this time, paying special attention to that little silver hoop at the head. He jolts.
“Shit, baby,” he groans, voice rasped and reverent. “That piercing’s for you. You feel every inch of me like that, don’t you?”
“Mmhmm.” I flick my tongue along the underside of the ring, and his whole body goes tight.
“Holy fuck, Violet.” His hand hovers in my hair, like he wants to guide but doesn’t dare. “You don’t have to go fast. You don’t have to do anything but what feels good to you.”
It does feel good. Empowering. I’m the one in control. I’m the one unraveling him.
I flatten my tongue along his shaft again, adding a little suction this time. His thighs twitch beneath me. A deep growl rumbles in his chest. I wrap my lips around the head and draw him in, just an inch at first, then more.
“That’s it,” he whispers. “Take your time. Just like that. You’re fucking perfect.”
His words pour over me like warm honey, soothing and filthy all at once. My fingers tighten at his base as I bob my head slowly, finding a rhythm. Every moan he makes shoots straight to my core. I didn’t know giving could feel like this—like I’m being worshipped while doing the worshipping.
He’s so vocal. So undone. He keeps whispering things like, “That mouth was made for me,” and “Fuck, look at you. My girl. Taking me so good.”
I hum around him, just to feel the way it makes him shudder. He fists the couch cushions now, knuckles white. His other hand finally sinks into my hair—gentle, encouraging. Letting me know it’s okay. That he’s right there with me.
I suck a little harder, then relax again, trying out everything I read, everything I fantasized about. I swirl my tongue, vary the pressure, and tease that ring with the tip of my tongue. He’s panting now, wrecked and glorious.
“Vi,” he warns. “You keep that up, I’m gonna come.”
I pull back just enough to murmur, “I know. I want to taste all of you.”
That breaks him. His eyes fly open, stunned. “Jesus, baby. You’re gonna ruin me.”
Good. That’s exactly what I want.
When he finally comes, it’s with a cry of my name, like a prayer. I don’t stop until I’ve swallowed every drop, until he’s trembling and breathless and completely mine.
He reaches for me, hauls me into his lap with trembling arms. “You’re incredible,” he whispers. “You just destroyed me.”
I smile against his neck, feeling radiant. Powerful. Wanted.
“I’ve got more where that came from,” I tease. “I can only get better at it.”
Bowen just groans, burying his face in my hair. “Fuck, Violet. I’m never letting you go.”
Then his hands cradle my face like I’m holy. “How do you feel?”
“Empowered. A little high. Also very smug.”
