Page 37 of Thoroughly Innocent Intent

“Can I…I mean…will you show me?”

“You want to see my cock?” he drawls. Not arrogant exactly, intrigued.

“Yes,” I breathe.

His eyes flash with heat, which I think means he likes this request. He doesn’t move, seeming instead to consider my words.

“Tell you what, Beautiful. You come on my lips and maybe I’ll let you watch me finish.” He leans forward and swirls his tongue around me, bringing me right back to the brink of release.

I drift back to that suspended euphoria, that place where my body is weightless save for my center, where Colt’s mouth is driving me to a frenzy. And just when I think my pleasure has reached its peak, Colt wraps his lips around my clit, sucking it rhythmically. The combination of firm pressure and warm breath sends shockwaves through my body, and my hips buck upward of their own accord.

My mind screams at me to get my body under control, but it strains for all the gratification he can give me, thrusting almost violently against him. Breathy cries fill the room, and while I know they have to be mine, I’m helpless to stop them. I’m helpless to do anything but give in, letting my body writhe on the counter as it revels in the most intense orgasm I’ve ever had.

Gradually the tremors subside, leaving me dazed and boneless, gasping for air. I’m vaguely aware of soft kisses on my thighs, my hips, as Colt rises from between my legs, an awed expression on his face.

“Christ, Samantha.” He exhales. “That was…I mean, damn, Honey.” His forearm flexes, and I realize it’s because he just stroked himself. “That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

I feel myself blushing under his thick gaze, but for once my curiosity weighs heavier than my embarrassment. “My turn now?”

“Your turn?” He seems almost dazed himself. I look down to where his hand is just hidden from view by the counter.

“To see you.” I focus on his arm instead of his eyes because I don’t want to know what sort of expression he’s wearing.

“Yeah, your turn.” He exhales heavily, giving me his free hand so he can pull me to a seated position. I adjust my skirt to cover myself, but Colt shakes his head. “Leave it,” he instructs as he steps back so I can see him.

My first glimpse is sort of anti-climactic. Colt’s shirt is half covering him, and what’s visible is partially obscured by the large hand wrapped around his length. I must look disappointed, because he suddenly pulls his shirt over his head and drops it to the floor, giving me an unobstructed view of his broad chest, rippled stomach, and a long, thick penis. Free of the confines of his unzipped pants, it points straight at me.

If you count TV and movies I’ve seen a naked man before, but the one in front of me is far superior to anything I’ve seen or could imagine. Colt is big, tall, and wide, but he’s built proportionately, so he doesn’t give off that hulking feeling I sometimes get around other football players. And he’s chiseled, each muscle perfectly defined, from his chest all the way down to the V that frames his erection.

I want to run my finger along the ridges of all that muscle, including the one between his legs. I raise my hand to do just that, but drop it before making contact, unsure of how to proceed.

“You can touch,” he rasps.

I lick my lips, gasping when his stiff length bobs. He gives a little chuckle but otherwise stays silent, which tells me it’s normal for that part of him to move on its own.

Starting at his chest I run my fingertips over the valley between his pecs, tracing their outline before touching the muscle itself. His nipple hardens to a tight point, and I rub my finger over that, marveling at how firm the little nub is.

“Pinch it,” Colt grunts.

I do as he asks, grasping his nipple between my thumb and forefinger. Something between a growl and a sigh rumbles from his throat, so I do it again, tugging gently. He leans into my touch, clearly enjoying how this feels, which makes me want to keep toying with them. But the stomach muscles that rise and fall with each breath are too enticing to ignore, so I trail my fingers down his sternum to his six pack, outlining each and every muscle as I snake my way lower.

When I reach the patch of hair between his thighs, his thick length bobs again, and my eyes snap to Colt’s for consent, because I don’t know what I’m allowed to do.

“You are so fucking sweet,” he growls, cupping the back of my head and crushing our lips together. Even as his tongue swipes hungrily against mine, I can feel him holding back, trying to contain the tension coursing through him. “You don’t need permission. Touch me however you like.”

I start at the base of his penis, holding my breath as I drag my finger along his length, which lurches under my touch. Despite his rigid erection the skin under my fingertip is velvety smooth, especially at the tip. “It’s so soft,” I marvel.

“It is definitely not soft,” Colt grunts wryly.

“But it is.” I run my finger around the tip, down to the base and back, awed by how smooth it feels. “I thought everything would be hard.”

“Feel how hard,” he says with gritted teeth. “Wrap your hand around me.”

I do as he asks, closing my fist around his girth, and he exhales deeply, rocking his hips forward. It’s rigid of course, more so than I expected given how smooth the skin is.

“Oh.” I gasp. “It is firm.”

“It’s a cock, Honey. Say it.” He smirks, knowing he’s testing my limits.

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