Page 52 of Contingently Yours
I watch him stare at my lips as he swallows. He takes a step back as though he has to fight giving in to the urge my mouth presents. Did not need to see that right now. Fortunately, the wall blocks his retreat.
Inching forward, I place my palm on the drywall next to his head. “Please,” I add, testing the foreign word out on my lips.
His gaze flicks up to mine in surprise. Yeah, yeah, let’s not make it a habit, my snarky internal voice wants to say. I hold back, though, and wait.
“You’re…good looking,” he stammers.
I’ve actually heard that before, plenty of times, so it shouldn’t surprise me. I’ve never heard it from Lucas, though. It makes me grateful for my face for the first time in my life. Bringing my hand up, I stroke his beard with my thumb, wondering if he knows how much I don’t hate his face anymore.
“And…” I press, greedy for more confessions.
“And you work for your uncle because you want to do something you weren’t forced to do…but you’d be good at anything you tried.”
It feels like time is interrupted as I gape at him. Reaching down, I grip his hip to steady myself and remember to breathe.
“Like playing the piano,” he adds, “but you can’t enjoy it because they made you.”
Something is squeezing my throat. The pressure feels a lot like it starts around my heart. I lean in and rest my forehead against his shoulder, inhaling his scent against the burning in my lungs. Can he just shut up already?
“And…you don’t even know just how good you are.”
Swallowing against the thickness, I tilt my head and taste the cord in his neck. “What else?” I rasp, a glutton for his punishment.
His head falls back into the wall with a thump, and he grips my elbow. “You know…”
“No, I don’t.” I kiss his neck. “Tell me.”
“You know,” he repeats, “just how to touch me. Just what to say…like you know more about me than I know about myself.”
Finally, a compliment that doesn’t gut me. Shifting my hips forward, I press them into his, smiling when his hardness meets mine. I move my mouth to his ear and whisper, “I’m listening.”
His voice comes out breathy. “You’re bossy and yet somehow…sensual in a way that…that makes it hard to breathe. And…you always know what to do or say, so I…so that I…”
“So you don’t have to?”
Turning his head, he blinks at me. The surprise on his face is the redemption my battered pride needed. I nip his lower lip. “So you don’t have to fucking take care of someone for a change?” I wager.
You’d think I just doused him with a bucket of water. Two fists grab handfuls of my shirt and yank me forward. His mouth slams against mine. Whining like he’s in pain, he reaches around and grips my back until there isn’t an inch separating us. He’s carnivorous with want. It makes me question if I’ve ever actually witnessed desire.
I give back as good as he’s giving, keeping up with each sweep of his tongue. It’s like drowning on dry land. I don’t know the playbook for this, but I know I want him naked, so I tug at his shirt, dragging it over his head. His fingers fumble with mine. I lift my arms to let him get the same experience. When it passes over my head, the vision before me is too much to bear.
I grip the back of his neck and tug him to me. Tracing his reddened lips, I tremble at the feel of his chest rising and falling against mine.
“This fucking mouth. Every time you part your lips like that, I want them around my dick.”
He drops like the floor fell out from under him before I can lean in for another kiss. What the hell is he doing?
The question dies a quick death when his fingers unfasten my shorts like there’s a fire inside them he needs to extinguish. Aw, fuck. I have no problem with how literal he took that.
The soft fabric of my shorts slides down my legs. My cock twitches behind my boxers. He reaches for the waistband, but then hesitates, glancing up like he needs permission. He had my permission ten seconds ago. Maybe even two weeks ago.
“Do it,” I croak. “Pull me out.”
The way he wets his lips makes it look like he’s anticipating something delicious. He’s fucking killing me. Lowering my waistband, his fingers wrap around my cock and draw it above the elastic. His wet lips enclose my tip and then draw back like he’s kissing an ice cream cone. He pauses, his hot breath ghosting my damp head, and stares at it in wonder. Glancing up at me with his lips parted, I couldn’t dream of a more enticing sight. His face says I’m officially his favorite flavor.
The next thing I know, he swallows half of my cock and starts bobbing his head, taking the wind out of me. His tongue wriggles around my circumference while he attempts to take me to my base several times, as though he’s trying to test out every technique all at once. It’s sloppy, with lots of suction noises, a few grunts, and even some gagging. A bead of slobber dribbles down my balls. It’s the worst blowjob I’ve ever received. It’s also now my favorite. Fucking hell, I want to devour him.
“Get up here,” I growl, hooking my hands under his armpits.
