“Oh.”
“I’ve been thinking about you all damn day. I kept fucking things up, couldn’t concentrate for shit. Amazing we got anything done.” He pushed his fingers through his long hair, pulling it back from his face. His hands stayed on top of his head, stretching out his lean, muscular torso. The bruise on his ribs from the bar fight last night was a dark gray smudge, marring perfection. I leaned in, kissing it. His gaze never left me because my bare breasts were still most definitely a part of me. My eyes, my mouth, my breasts: he couldn’t seem to decide what fascinated him the most.
Carefully, I lowered the zipper over his erection. No underwear. At least I didn’t jump this time when his hard-on made its sudden appearance. With two hands I pushed down his jeans, freeing his cock. It stood tall and proud. Just like this morning I pressed my hand against the underside, feeling the heat of the silken skin. Funny, the idea of the male appendage had never particularly moved me before. But now I felt moved, as my clenched thighs attested.
Moved and more than a little proprietary.
“You’re mine,” I whispered, my thumb rubbing around the edge of the head, feeling out the ridge and the dip in the middle. Learning him.
“Yeah.”
The sweet spot sat below that little tuck. Over the years, I’d read enough magazines and listened to enough of Lauren’s tales of sexcapades to know as much. She did love her details. I made a mental note to thank her, take her out to dinner somewhere nice.
I moved my hand around so that I gripped him and massaged the area with the pad of my thumb, waiting to see what happened. Much easier to see what was going on without the soap bubbles in the way. It didn’t take long. Especially not once I tightened my hold on him a little and pumped slightly. His stomach muscles flinched and danced, the same as they had this morning in the shower. My fingers moved the soft, smooth skin, massaging the hard flesh beneath, pumping once, twice. A bead of milky fluid leaked from the small slit in the top.
“That means you’re fucking killing me,” my husband supplied helpfully, his voice guttural. “Just in case you were wondering.”
I grinned.
He swore.
“I swear it gets bigger every time I see it.”
His smile was lopsided. “You inspire me.”
I stroked him again and his chest heaved. “Evelyn. Please.”
Time to put him out of his misery. I knelt, the floor uncomfortably hard beneath me. If you were going to kneel in front of someone, some minor discomfort seemed an obvious part of the territory. It all added to the atmosphere, the experience. The musky scent of him was stronger later in the day. I took his cock in hand and nuzzled his hip bone, breathing him in deep.
He still watched. I checked to be sure. Hell, his eyes were huge and dark and focused solely on me. Beside him, his hands gripped the counter as if he expected a tremor to hit at any time, knuckles white.
When I took him into my mouth he moaned. My inexperience and his size prevented me from taking him too deep. He didn’t seem to mind. The salty taste of his skin and the bitterness of that liquid, the warm scent of him and the feel of his hardness, merged into one unique experience. Pleasing David was a brilliant thing.
He groaned and his hips jerked, pushing him further into my mouth. My throat tightened in surprise and I gagged slightly. His hand flew to my hair, patting, soothing. “Fuck, baby. Sorry.”
I resumed my ministrations, rubbing my tongue against him, drawing on him. Figuring out the best way to fit him into my mouth. Doing everything I could to make him tremble and cuss. What a glorious thing giving head was. His hand tightened in my hair, pulling some, and I loved it. All of it. Anything with the ability to reduce my world-weary husband to a stammering mess while giving him such pleasure deserved a serious time investment. His hips shifted restlessly and his cock jerked against my tongue, filling my mouth with that salty, bitter taste faster than I could swallow.
So it was messy. Never mind. My jaw hurt a little. Big deal. And I could have done with a glass of water. But his reaction …
David dropped to his knees and gathered me up in his arms, all the better to squish me against him. My ribs creaked, and his dug into me over and over as he fought for breath. I pressed my face against his shoulder and waited till he’d calmed down some to seek my acclaim.
“Was it okay?” I asked, reasonably certain of a favorable response. Which is always the best time to ask, in my opinion.
He grunted.
That was it? I sat there feeling rather proud of myself and he gave me a grunt. No, I needed more validation than that. I both wanted and deserved it. “Are you sure?”
He sat back on his heels and stared at me. Then he looked around, searching for something. The T-shirt he’d left forgotten on the floor. And then he wiped beneath my chin, cleaning me up. Nice.