So, screw it, he was going to take every bit of her that she was offering right now, before she pulled away completely.
“You know earlier?”
“Yes?”
“When you wanted to go down on me and I said later?”
She stared at him. Was she holding her breath? Her eyes were wide, and she licked her lips—unconsciously, he thought.
“It’s later.”
She knelt but he pulled her upright again.
“No. In the bedroom. I want to show you something.”
He half herded her into the bedroom, and the look she shot him told him she liked him taking charge as much as he got off on it. He untied her robe and pushed it off her shoulders so it dropped to the floor.
“Lie down. Facedown at the edge of the bed. Right at the edge.”
She lay crosswise on the bed, naked, chin close to the side, ass tipped up slightly, which made him want to abandon plan A to climb on top of her and plunge in, instead. But he restrained himself, undoing his jeans but staying put.
“Commando,” she observed.
“Yup.”
“That’s hot.” She gazed up at him through thick lashes, which fed some fantasy he hadn’t even known he had—her prostrate, helplessly adoring.
Man, maybe he was as much of an asshole as the world thought. “My image consultant wouldn’t approve.” He took himself in hand and made a show of it, a slow, sensuous slide up and down his length, his thumb smoothing a drop of pre-cum over the head.
“Your image consultant could not approve more.”
“My image consultant needs to convey her approval, then.” He shed his jeans and came close, so his thighs pressed against the edge of the bed.
He had all manner of images in mind, but what she did surprised him completely. Which was to say, it was unlike the Haven he’d thought he’d known and so much like the Haven he seemed to have invoked from sheer desire. She rubbed her nose into the fold of his thigh, scenting him. “You smell so good,” she said.
“That’s hot,” he said.
In answer, she licked him. His thigh, then his balls, then the length of his cock, which jerked its endorsement. She caught his head between her lips and popped it out again, sending a shock of pleasure he felt all the way to the root and as far off as his skull. She did it again, and then she took him deep. He felt the hot, wet satin of the back of her throat, firm against his sensitive tip. She pressed him deeper.
“Jesus.”
There was the physical pleasure itself, which was massive, heat and slide and pressure and pull, the suction as her cheeks hollowed, the play of her tongue along his length and under the ridge of his head. And then there was the rest of it, the fact that she was letting him so deep, that she wasn’t guarding herself against him with her hands or restricting his movement, just trusting him not to hurt her.
She slid her palm under his balls, the other around to his ass, urging him deeper still.
“You sure?”
In answer, she hummed in her throat.