Alpha’s Strength(43)

Moving to the top of his getting-larger-every-second cock, she wet the head with her tongue. Cyrus made a little moan, and she knew he had enjoyed it. She moved lower, exploring the ridged part of right up against his head of his cock. She licked it slowly, savoring the taste of Cyrus, the heat of him. Was there any part of him that didn’t warm her body?

She proceeded slowly. This was his first time on this part of the rodeo. She wanted him to enjoy it and didn’t want to rush the experience for him. Finally, when she felt his body jerk beneath her ministrations, she knew he was ready to be really pleasured.

Betsy opened her mouth and took him as deep inside of her throat as she could. Cyrus was huge. There was no way she was getting him all the way down, even with her considerable skill set in this department. She compensated as best she could, running her hands up and down the part of his shaft that she couldn’t quite get in her mouth. He moaned, moving in and out of her mouth with thrusts.

She reveled in the act, loving that she controlled it, loving that she could do this for him. For Betsy, this moment was powerful. She gripped him tighter, squeezing his balls with her free hand.

He called out her name, his hips moving at a rapid pace. She raised her eyes to look at him. Cyrus was lost in rapture and to witness it qualified as a moment of beauty. He came in her mouth, saying words of passion over and over, and she swallowed it down, loving every pulse.

She had given him his first blowjob, and she’d bet the farm that he had loved it.

Betsy had no sooner wiped her mouth than she found herself pulled down on top of him.

“That was…”

She grinned. Good, if he couldn’t come up with words then she’d accomplished what she set out to do. “Yes?”

Betsy checked out the clock. Half an hour had passed. Maybe he’d be ready to get some real rest in the bed and not on top of his desk.

“Amazing.”

She would have responded, but he pulled her mouth down on his. God, she loved kissing him. He pulled back to look at her. “You’re such an amazing gift to me.”

Betsy rolled her eyes. Sentimentality didn’t work for her. The television shows that she saw on where it got too gooey made her want to throw something. She had no idea how to handle it. “Sheesh, one blow job and you’re writing poetry. I’m not a gift to anyone.”

“Yes you are.” His eyes were serious. “Do we need to go back to the mirror?”

“Oh.” She smiled at the memory his words invoked. “How about we do when I’m not sore?”

“I don’t need to penetrate you to show you what a gift you are to me.”

“Cyrus…” She swung her leg over him to keep in place. Not that he couldn’t get out if he so wanted. She hoped he didn’t want to. “Let’s go to sleep.”

“I don’t know if I’m going to be able to sleep again.”

His scent said differently, but she didn’t want to point that out lest he get riled up and defeat her purpose. “Would you try with me?”

“Sure.” She’d known he wouldn’t deny her request. Only, this time she wasn’t falling asleep until he did.

They snuggled back into the bed, and she placed her head over his heart so she could hear it beating. Strong and steady.

“What time do you have to get to the office in the morning?”

“I’m usually out by six-thirty.”

Well. That wasn’t going to work. Not for today. Would the world end if he got there at nine?

“Why so early?” She kissed his arm.

“I always have so much to do.”

“Here’s the thing.” Betsy had never really figured out how to manipulate people into doing what she wanted. Or at least any attempts she made hadn’t worked. Maybe it wasn’t fair to call it manipulation when she was really trying to take care of him or to get him to take care of himself.

“Yes?” She could now hear the fatigue in his voice.

“I’m not going to be able to get up that early. I’m so tired. Do you think we could go in a little later? That is, if you want me with you…” She let her voice drift off.

“Oh. You’re with me tomorrow. That’s a given. Okay, we’ll go in later.”

“Great.” She snuggled closer. When she hadn’t been able to sleep as a child, her mother had petted her head until she’d dozed off. Given that she didn’t have any other solutions, she gave into the urge and ran her fingers through his short blond hair.

They lay in the darkness, and she deliberately avoided eye contact with him so that he wouldn’t think about anything but how warm they were together, the quiet, the dark, and the sound of the ceiling fan gently moving the air in the room.