The fact that a gorgeous, experienced, been-around-the-block-and-then-some man can still find me sexy and attractive is doing wonders for my confidence, but there is still so much to learn, a fact made abundantly clear as Justin lays me down on the couch, kneeling between my legs as he tugs off his sweater and undershirt and starts working open the close on his jeans.
“Here?” My eyes widen as I glance past him at the floor-to-ceiling windows and the city of Portland stretching away toward the river and the hills beyond.
“Here.” He holds my gaze as he draws his zipper down, the buzz as the teeth separate enough to make my nipples pucker even tighter.
“But you don’t have any blinds,” I say, torn between anxiety and arousal as he steps out of his jeans, revealing a pair of tight black boxer briefs that leave nothing about his anatomy to the imagination.
“It’s all right. There aren’t any other buildings around here tall enough for anyone to see inside. The only one who’s going to see you naked and coming on my mouth is me.” He hooks his hands behind my knees, drawing me closer, until he’s looming over me like a god descended from Mount Olympus.
God, he’s beautiful. And terrifying. The perfection of his body—broad shoulders, powerful chest, and an eight-pack chiseled into his abdomen—is intimidating enough, considering my own workouts consist mostly of long walks in the woods and riding my bike to the farmer’s market on the weekends. But it’s the seven, eight, maybe even nine inches straining the fabric of his boxers that make my pulse speed and my throat threaten to close up with panic.
Surely there’s something wrong with him. It’s not supposed to be that big.
Is it?
“Something wrong?” His hands skim gently up and down my thighs in a way that would be soothing if my heart weren’t slamming against my ribs from a combination of fear and arousal.
“According to everything I’ve read, the average size of an erect penis in the United States is five point eight inches.”
His lips curve. “Is that right? You do a lot of reading about penises, Libs?”
“I’ve done enough.” I cast a meaningful glance south of his border. “So what’s up with that?”
Amusement makes his eyes twinkle as his hands move to my waist, circling it with his fingers. “What’s up with what?”
“You know what. You know exactly what. As much as you get around, you must have realized by now that that’s not normal.”
He laughs, the bastard, but before I can tell him to shut up and take me seriously, he says, “Don’t worry. It’s perfectly normal, and if we decide to go that far, there won’t be any problems. I promise.”
I swallow hard. “I don’t like broken promises.”
“I know you don’t,” he says, his smile fading. “I wouldn’t lie to you, Libby. I promise, if you decide you want me inside you, I’m only going to make you feel good. But today, you don’t have to worry about it. My abnormal cock and I have other plans for your pussy.”
“I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings,” I say as he lengthens himself on top of me.
“You didn’t.” He cups my breast, teasing my nipple through my bra, making things low in my body pulse. “Being called a freak is the best thing to happen to my cock all day. He’s super proud of himself.”
“Well, that’s nice, but there’s really nothing to be proud of. It’s just genetics.”
“Shhhh, your logic won’t work here, Collins. Cocks are notoriously immune to logic. Cocks only hear what they want to hear, and right now mine is sure that he’s the biggest, sexiest bastard on the block.”
I nod as my brows lift. “Do you always talk about your cock in third person?”
“Not always. Sometimes I stick a hat on him, do my best cock voice, and put on a puppet show to build morale. Maybe if you’re really lucky, I’ll do one for you later.”
I smile against Justin’s lips as he kisses me, making our teeth bump together through our skin when he smiles back. “Are you this goofy in bed with all your women?”
“I don’t want to think about other women,” he says, reaching beneath me to pop the clasp on my bra. “I just want to think about you, and your beautiful body, and how many times I can make you scream my name before I have to take a break to feed you dinner.”
He draws my bra down my arms and tosses it on the floor, cupping my breasts in his hands and pressing them closer together, the heat in his eyes as he lowers his mouth to my tight nipples making me burn. And then his tongue sweeps across one tight, aching tip, and I catch fire.