I padded out into the living room to find him standing beside the couch, shirtless and barefoot. He’d turned off all the lights in the room except for the small, crystal chandelier that hung over my dining table. The prisms cast tiny rainbows across his chest.
Fucking hell, he was breathtaking. He was thick, and wide, and distinctly male. Powerful muscles stretched and corded around his frame, carving out notches and shadows, hard places beneath soft skin. I wanted to skate my tongue down his perfect chest, but he’d given me a command. I would obey it like it was the law.
I marched to him and offered the silicone toy, but he didn’t take it from me. We had to paint quite the scene—me stark naked and holding out a fake dick, him still in his jeans and the printed waistband of his underwear peeking out the top.
“Do you want me to fuck you?” he asked.
I understood how he meant, and the word rushed out of me. “Yes.”
There was a hint of a smile behind his lips as he took the toy from me and we fell deep into the scene. “Get on your knees and make my cock wet.”
I hit the floor so fast, pain shot up through my kneecaps, but it was gone and forgotten as he ringed the dildo around the base with his hand, and positioned it directly over the fly of his jeans.
I peered up at him and made a production of licking my lips. This blowjob wasn’t going to have sensation. It was all about the visual, and I didn’t want to let him down. I could still bring him pleasure; it’d just be a different kind than I was used to.
His gaze was locked on mine as I parted my lips and dragged the tip of my tongue over the head of the cock. Of his cock. Was that why he hadn’t asked me to go with him to buy it? Because he didn’t want some purple, jelly, alien-looking dildo; he wanted one that was him?
We didn’t break eye contact when I opened my mouth wider and closed my lips around the head. It didn’t taste like anything, and the silicone was nice. It had a velvety soft feel against my tongue. I hollowed out my cheeks as I sucked, and Grant’s eyes flared with lust. His shoulders lifted in an enormous breath.
Warmth bloomed in my chest. He didn’t have my mouth on him, but he could see it and imagine what it would feel like, and it clearly gave him satisfaction to watch me slide further down the length.
“Fuck, that looks so good,” he uttered.
I gave my own noise of satisfaction as I established a rhythm. There wasn’t as much give as there was when going down on the real thing, and my jaw began to ache almost immediately, but it was a small price to pay to see how he enjoyed the show. He wound his free hand in my hair and cupped the back of my head, not to push, but to guide. To show me exactly how he wanted it.
I was thrilled to have his direction.
Like it was the real deal, I pulled off and wrapped a hand around his cock, pumping my fist up and down. The muscles in his jaw flexed. He was clenching his teeth, and the realization made me smile.
I gave him a final pass in my mouth, working my way as far down to his fingers as I could get, and then I was abruptly pulled to my feet, so fast it made me dizzy. Grant plodded the half-dozen steps to the dining table and stuck the suction cup right on the closest corner.
He stood beside it, turned his gaze until it was fixed on me, and held out his hand.
-22-
Tara
Air whooshed into my body as I swallowed a thick breath.
This was an invitation I wasn’t going to refuse. I put one foot in front of the other, took Grant’s extended hand, and let him jerk me up against him.
His chest was made of granite, and his embrace was so tight, he crushed my breasts between us. But even that felt pleasurable in its own way. Skin against warm skin.
His mouth possessed mine while his hands possessed my body. They caressed and teased, slipping over my skin, kneading my ass and cupping my tits, turning me on even more than I already was. Goosebumps pebbled down my arms as his lips brushed against the shell of my ear.
He turned me slowly in his embrace until I was facing the table. The dick was poised and ready for me, its tip curving up toward the ceiling. His cello-playing fingers trailed down my stomach, drawing a line down my body, all the way until he stroked them through my soaked pussy. I flinched with pleasure at his touch, every nerve in me a live wire.
His palm was warm on my left thigh, and as he slid his hand inward, he also urged me to lift my leg so he could ease my knee up onto the tabletop. I leaned forward, just enough to put my hands down and give me the leverage I’d need.
The height wasn’t bad, and since I was at the corner, I had room for my supporting leg. As I centered myself over his cock, there was rustling behind me and a zipper rang out. Then his bare chest was warm against my back, his hands grasped my hips, and he helped lower me down.
It wasn’t as warm as he was, but the stretch felt amazing, and I welcomed the intrusion deeper inside me. A moan drifted from my throat as he pressed the rest of his body to mine, and I discovered he was naked. His dick was hard against my ass, while I descended further on his cock, and although the angles were off, and it wasn’t actually him inside me . . . it felt like he was.
It felt like we were fucking.
“Oh,” I sighed so softly, it was a ghost of a word.
His mouth latched onto the side of my neck, and one hand came up to cup a breast, the other hand staying firm on my waist. It was so he could guide me up and then ease me back down. The first gentle stroke of my body riding his cock, moving in time with him.