Billionaire Romance Boxed Set 2(143)

My hand brushed against his thigh accidentally. Upwards, I pulled at his pajamas bottoms, thinking they were a part of the blanket. Nothing happened, so I pulled a little more, but was careful in case I woke him. When I realized what I had a hold of, which was definitely not the blankets, I blushed. Whoops! And then, when I realized there was something else beneath my hand, I blushed even more.

A fact of life, I knew, and nothing he could control in his sleep, but Asher was hard and ready beneath the blankets. The side of my hand pressed against his crotch and his manhood when I’d tried to pull the blankets(or his pants) away. He must have felt it, would wake up and look at me and… but no, he remained asleep. I pulled my hand away then, brought it above the blankets and put it in my lap. Bad hand, I thought to it. Don’t do bad things like that.#p#分页标题#e#

Asher continued to lay there, oblivious. On his back, with his legs spread slightly, blanket covering most of his body. The side of my thigh touched against the soles of his feet. I should go to sleep, I told myself. Yes, definitely, except I suddenly didn’t want to. I suddenly wanted to do something that I knew I should definitely not do.

Bad, awful thoughts. What happened if Asher woke up? Well, he’d be upset, obviously. If I did this, then there was no knowing what he’d do in return. We’d made amends, somewhat, and while it involved him bringing me to a rough climax with his mouth and his hands, he’d made it relatively clear that the act was not to be reciprocated. Except, why not?

The more I thought about it, the more I convinced myself that I should. Because, really, if he brought me to orgasm, then he deserved the same, right? It made sense, strictly speaking. Besides the fact that I absolutely relished the idea, and wanted to do it without a doubt, it had a certain amount of sound logic backing it. An eye for an eye, an orgasm for an orgasm? It was just the right thing to do.

I carefully moved aside the blankets. Not entirely, but enough that I could see where I was going. Sneaking across the couch, creeping carefully, I settled in between Asher’s legs. He remained sleeping the entire time, calm, shallow breathing. I propped myself up on my elbows and looked at what I had to work with.

Asher was erect, that much was obvious. And, to my good fortune, he wore a typical style of men’s pajama pants. A single button in the center of a loose, slitted opening in the middle of the pajama pants crotch area gave me all the access I needed to fulfill my task. A task, I told myself, over and over. I shouldn’t enjoy it, because it was something I should do. Like work, a job.

Except, honestly? No, I would enjoy this very much.

I stretched a finger out, prodding at the button. With barely any effort, it came loose. I slowly put my hand into his pants and pulled out his throbbing shaft, setting it free from its pajama prison. Asher’s cock greeted me with a hearty hello, looking happy to see me. I grinned at the image of that.

Still, I didn’t have a lot of room with how things were currently set up. I shifted to the side, trying to ease him into widening his legs a little more. Careful, inch by inch, I managed to give myself more room without waking him up. The cool air in the room, quite different from the warmth of his core and his pajamas, seemed to harden his shaft’s resolve. I stared at it, watching it flex and twitch inadvertently as Asher slept, blissfully unaware.

Careful, barely anything at all, I touched the sides of his cock. Immediately it twitched between my fingers, stretching upwards. I held it in my hand, feeling the wicked warmth of him, delighting in it. He felt radiant, like a blazing furnace in the middle of winter. I got a more firm grip on his shaft, holding it in place so that when he twitched I didn’t risk losing him. My hand stroked him downwards, towards his pajama pants and the center of his body, then ever so slowly upwards, to the head of his cock.

This was not enough, though. Not nearly enough. I squeezed closer still, until my head was just above his crotch. I admired his manhood as I stroked it, taking in every twitch and strain. Whenever he flexed his cock while he slept, I could see the veins pushing out. I squeezed them beneath my fingers, stroking him up and down, slow so as not to wake him.

I lowered my head and opened my mouth, engulfing his cockhead between my lips. Immediately he tensed and I thought this was it. He was going to wake up, realize what was going on, and I’d be in horrible trouble. He’d kick me out of his guest home, throw me out onto the streets, and who knew what. Except, no, he tensed, but nothing more. His breathing remained calm, though a bit more ragged than before, not as shallow.

I stroked downwards and lowered my head at the same time, taking more of him into my mouth. He tasted a little sweet, with a hint of salt, but not too much. It was nice and I liked it. Somewhat like a chocolate covered pretzel, salty and sweet. That was the best way I could think to explain it, at least.