His Plaything(20)

“Hey, it's fine. I don't want you to be unsure.” I leaned over her splayed body for another kiss, more gentle this time. Then I breathed into her ear: “The first time we do this, it'll be because you're begging to ride my dick.”

She shivered, eyes glazing over for a second. “O-okay.” Then she glanced down between our bodies at my still-hard cock. “Don't you … want to come?” she asked.

“Well, I wouldn't mind.” The joke fell a little flat; I needed to get off so bad I was dripping onto the sheets. “But don't feel like you have to do anything if you're not comfortable.”

“N-no, I'm okay.” Her gaze kept darting between my eyes and my wet, straining cock. “Maybe … I could … take care of that for you?”

I couldn't nod fast enough. Yes, dear God, please. She was so goddamn cute. So curious and horny, but still too shy to say “blow job” out loud, even when she was right about to do it.

I sat back against the headboard and Avery knelt between my legs. With eyes wide and cheeks pink, she curled her hand around my shaft and ran her tongue over the slick head. I made a guttural noise that was meant to be supportive, but came out desperate. She bobbed her head, tentatively at first, then with growing confidence, flickering her tongue across the sensitive underside and pumping her tight fist.

As far as pure technique went, it wasn't the best blowjob I'd ever gotten in my life—but I'd had no idea that the sweet little fashion princess was this good at sucking dick, and she was clearly enjoying herself. The noises she made as she panted for breath through her nose and the sight of her spit-shiny lips sliding over my cock were almost enough to make me blow my load right then and there. Soon my moans weren't just for encouragement. I could already feel the warmth in my belly coming to a boil, my muscles all tensing and loosening at once. I tried to cut myself some slack; I'd been abstinent for nine months, insanely horny for a week, and fooling around with Avery for almost an hour. Time just wasn't on my side.

“A-Avery … I'm gonna…” My words dissolved in a ragged groan as she sucked even harder. I bit my lip and came in long spurts that left my whole body tingling—and she swallowed every drop. Before either of us could catch our breath, I pulled her up my body into a deep, fiery kiss. My spent cock twitched at the taste of my cum in her mouth. Jesus, I needed to get the hell out of here, or I'd never leave. “Damn,” I panted. “That was … amazing.”

A proud, almost feline smile twitched at her lips. But it looked a little lackluster. Now that the fog of arousal had started to thin, she was quickly waking up to what she had done. I had no idea how she would end up feeling about this, and my presence probably wouldn't help her figure it out. I sure wouldn't want someone looking over my shoulder while I wrestled with personal stuff. Another reason for me to make a speedy exit.

“I've gotta get up early tomorrow to meet Logan,” I said quickly. “Otherwise I'd hang out. But I'll see you at dinner, right?”

She opened her mouth, then hesitated. Did she think I was pumping and dumping her? Was she hurt? Or just up for another round? Finally she nodded and said, “Yeah. I'll be home around five-thirty.”

She let me up and watched me while I got dressed. As I closed her bedroom door behind me, she called, “Goodnight!” Her voice was unexpectedly cheerful.

I didn't realize why until I was standing at the bathroom sink, washing my face clean of her juices. “But I'll see you at dinner, right?” As opposed to hiding from me, like she'd been doing for the past week. I paused, my face buried in a damp hand towel. I had asked Avery if she would eat with me. In a way that made it sound like I'd missed her.

And what was more … maybe I had.





Chapter 10

Avery



The next afternoon, I was sitting in a stuffy lecture hall, staring blankly at a PowerPoint presentation about late eighteenth-century fabrics. Not my favorite subject, even on a good day—and this definitely wasn't a good day. Even the era of Christian Dior and Edith Head wouldn't have held my interest right now. All I could think about was Nixon.

Intimate details from last night kept crowding into my head, so vivid it felt like I was back in my bedroom with him again. His chiseled body. His unfairly talented tongue and hands. His ice-blue eyes gone dark with desire. Warmth coiled tighter between my legs and I shifted in my hard plastic seat. Professor Worth droned on, but I didn't hear a word. I was too lost in my panty-creaming memories.

Nixon's cock was so incredibly long and thick. My hand had barely fit around his shaft, and my mouth … I shifted my lower jaw from side to side, feeling the slightest lingering ache. I still couldn't believe how hungrily I'd sucked him off. The one and only thought in my mind had been making him come. Who was that shameless, sensual girl, and what had she done with Avery Palmer? The sheer concentration of pheromones in the air must have driven me temporarily insane. That was the only explanation for everything we'd done. Everything I'd done.