Page 87 of Best In Class
Dinner ends with pie andjoy—the kind that I have not felt in years. Since Dom.
When we drive back, he holds my hand the whole way. I let him.
When he parks in my driveway, I say, huskily, “Walk me to my room.”
“Mama might be waiting inside with her spatula.” He strokes a finger down my cheek. “But you know what, I’ll brave it.”
“Miss Abigail is probably in bed,” I whisper, taking his hand in mine.
We sneak intomyhouse like we’re teenagers again. Giggling as we go up the stairs to my bedroom.
My bedside lights are on when we get in, as they always are.
I close the door behind us and smile widely at him. There’s excitement in his eyes. There’s also…love.
I remember this feeling.
His darkening eyes burn into mine, and I can’t help but recall the first time I did this, when we were just kids, fumbling, both of us clueless but so eager.
He stands in front of my bed, head tilted as if he’s taking his fill of me.
I walk up to him, kiss him, and as I do, I unbutton his jeans, my nails scraping against the zipper as I pull it down slowly, teasing him, making him wait.
I push his jeans and underwear down and his cock springs free. Thick. Heavy. The tip is already glistening with precum.
I lick my lips, my mouth watering. I wrap my hand around the base, feeling the heat of him, the way his pulse throbs against my palm.
“Moonbeam.” His voice is a caress, a question.
“I wanna fool around,” I tell him saucily, and go to my knees.
I lean in, my breath hot against his shaft, and I can smell his scent—musky, primal, his. It makes me dizzy.
“Remember the first time.”
“Yeah.” His breath is ragged. I love that I do this to him. That I can.
I start slow, just like I did that first time in my bedroom.
We’d had sex by then, but I’d never given a blow job. He told me that I didn’t have to. I told him Iwantedto.
My tongue flicks out, tracing the vein that runs along the underside of his cock, and he groans, his hips jerking forward.
I take the tip into my mouth, swirling my tongue around the sensitive head, tasting him—salty, sweet, perfect.
I remember how nervous I was back then, not knowing what I was doing, but now I’m older and more experienced.
“I’m going to make you lose your mind,” I warn.
“You already are.”
I take him deeper, inch by inch, my lips stretching around his girth.
My jaw aches, but I don’t care—I want all of him.
My hand works in rhythm with my mouth, stroking what I can’t fit inside.
I can feel him twitching, throbbing, like he’s about to explode.
