Page 54 of Contingently Yours
I avert my gaze to the ceiling and shrug like it’s no big deal—because it’s not. Each of my brain cells is more focused on whether I’m going to get to experience what I hope I’m about to. A hand wraps around the base of my cock, angling it up. I look back down, but his attention is fixed on my dick again.
“Well, fuck you, Shannon,” he mutters and draws a stripe up the slit of my cockhead.
My cock does twitch now, bucking against his grip. I don’t know what his hostility toward my ex is about, but it was worthwaiting four years for that little lick. And it’s worth waiting the three seconds following until he takes my cockhead into his hot, wet mouth.
For the love of monster trucks, the sight of Andrew’s sassy mouth with my cock in it is the only thing I need to see before I die. His cheeks go concave, increasing the suction around it, making me cry out a warbled noise.
He hums as though he approves and draws off for a breath before taking me in again. His tongue swirls around my glans, teasing it. My hips buck involuntarily, making the roof of his mouth crash into my tip. Grunting, he pops off and wipes the slobber off his chin with the back of his wrist.
“This isn’t working,” he says breathlessly at the same time I murmur, “Sorry.”
My first blow job in forever, and I fucked it up. Damn it.
Glaring at my dick like it committed a crime, he mumbles, “I don’t know what I’m doing.”
The confession quashes my embarrassment and makes me sympathize with him until he adds, “But I have another idea,” and barrels off the bed.
Where is he going? I rise onto my elbows as he rummages through his discarded shorts and pulls out his phone. If he thinks taking sexy nudes is a good alternative to exchanging our first blow jobs, I’m going to have to say something.
I watch his bare ass trot to the bathroom, feeling my heart sink with each step, even as I admire the dimples in his cheeks. When he returns a second later with a bottle of lube in his other hand, I lean back, trying to pretend I wasn’t momentarily terrified he was calling it quits. Climbing back on the bed, he resumes his place between my legs, but his thumb flies over the keys on his phone. It seems like an odd time to be on the phone.
“What are you doing?”
“Calling in a lifeline.”
“A what?”
“Have you ever been with a man?”
He’s asking me that now? “No… Have you?”
“No, hence the lifeline.” Patting the outside of my thigh, he assures me, “Don’t worry. They’re professionals.”
Wait a minute. Is he…texting someone for gay sex advice?
“They? Who arethey?”
CHAPTER 19
Andrew
How far in is the prostate gland?
I wait impatiently for a response to my message in the group chat I have with Shaw and Terry. I seldom use it as I mostly just text Shaw, but this is time sensitive. I’ll take whatever help I can get.
Terry: Oh no. That poor man.
“What are you doing?” Lucas asks.
“Calling in a lifeline.”
“A what?”
“Have you ever been with a man?”
He hesitates even though I’m fairly certain of the answer. “No… Have you?”
“No, hence the lifeline.” Patting the outside of his thigh, I reassure him, “Don’t worry. They’re professionals.”
