She slipped away, putting space between their bodies. Then she tugged down the sheet and yanked up the hem of her nightgown, giving him a glimpse of long legs and smooth skin in the faint moonlight. He waited as she hiked up the fabric, trying not to pant. Whatever she wanted, he hoped like hell he could last long enough to give it to her.
“Your mouth,” she said, grabbing his hand and sliding it between her thighs. Her wet thighs. “Put it here.”
He was dreaming. He had to be. This afternoon when he’d left, Sara hadn’t seemed interested. She’d flushed when he guided her hand to his cock, true. She’d even let out a little gasp. But he never could have fathomed the day would end like this.
“Is this the cold medicine talking?” he asked hoarsely, afraid he didn’t care.
“No. I’m thinking clearly. Mostly. But I…I’m not up for full sex. Is that a problem?”
Brad slid down the mattress so fast that she laughed. “Do you go commando all the time in bed or is this a special occasion?”
“Since I often wear thongs, I don’t like to wear anything at night.” Her tone turned flirty. “I could slip on a pair, if you have some ritual that involves taking them off with your teeth…”
Thongs? Really? Now he’d have that in his head every time he saw her. And every time he didn’t. Pretty much every day, always.
“Intriguing idea, but no. This more than works for me.” He shifted around on the bed until he could wedge his head between her thighs and suck in a breath full of Sara.
Damn, she smelled good. How many times had he fantasized about eating her out while he stroked one off in the shower? Now here she was, her hot pussy inches from his eager mouth, the erotic aroma making him lightheaded.
She reached down and wove her fingers through his hair as he started to lick, circling his tongue around her swollen clit. He could’ve spent all night doing this. She tasted as tangy and sweet as the apple they’d shared, and he pressed his face against her heat, intent on getting more of her in his mouth. Finally, he had proof of their mutual attraction, and he damn well wouldn’t waste a drop.
She tugged on his hair, sharp pulls that only encouraged his engorged cock to rear against his pajama pants. He reached down to release himself, but not because he expected her to do anything about his hard-on. Nope, he’d pretty much reconciled himself to getting reacquainted with the shower again tonight. But if he didn’t relieve some of the pressure around his dick, he’d detonate in no time. And that wouldn’t exactly make her change her mind from thinking he was too young, now would it?
“Use your fingers,” she urged as he began to do just that, sliding two in and out of her slick pussy. Her inner muscles clamped around him, her arousal making wet, noisy sounds every time he entered and exited. She thrust against his face shamelessly, using his hair to move his mouth up and down her saturated flesh until she wasn’t the only one moaning.
He reached up with his free hand for her breast, grabbing her harder than he’d meant to. She didn’t seem to mind. Her back bowed, and she pushed her tight nipple into his palm, her cries rising.
“God. Yes. Don’t stop. I’m about to…”
“Stop?” he rasped. “Not a fucking chance.”
He fought not to lose it as he redoubled his efforts. He sucked her clit hard and thrust his fingers deep, determined to experience every nuance with her even if he’d only get to feel her spasm around his flesh.
As many times as he’d fantasized about going down on her, nothing prepared him for the reality of hearing her ride out her climax or tasting the results as her release flowed over his tongue. Her nails scraped his scalp, another provocative memory he knew he’d never forget.
He nuzzled her through the aftermath, loving her as sweetly as he’d kissed her mouth. She rocked her hips and sighed, the rumble of her pleasure vibrating through her body and straight into his.
“Thank you,” she whispered as he gathered her in his arms. “I know I’ll sleep now.”
Before he could comment, she was snoring against his shoulder.
Chapter Three
Sara had never been a fan of awkward middle-of-the-night-afters. Especially when she awakened due to an unladylike coughing fit that ended with her new lover stroking her back.
“Easy. Let me get you some juice,” Brad murmured, slipping out of her bed before she could ask him why he hadn’t gone back to his.
The moment he left, she flung herself into her pillows. What the hell had she been thinking, demanding he go down on her? It had felt really good, granted, but so did getting rip-roaring drunk. The hangover was the problem.
By the time he returned, she’d composed herself. She thanked him for the juice and sipped it gratefully. The sweet liquid cooled her raw throat. At least it was still dark so she didn’t have to see his face.
Just when she thought she might escape with a shred of dignity intact, he turned on the bedside lamp and pried the glass out of her clammy hand. He tossed back the rest of her drink and set it aside, wiping his mouth in a way that should’ve reminded her of a little kid but instead made her swallow hard. The ripple of his throat shouldn’t have reignited the heat in her belly, but dear God, it so did.
“You really want to get sick too, don’t you?” she mumbled, rubbing her eyes in an effort not to meet his gaze. She could feel him staring at her and didn’t want to imagine how she must look. Who looked good while they were sniffling and hacking?
“Not worried.” He brushed her hair away from her face, his touch unbearably gentle. “You’re burning up.”
That explained why her clothes practically chafed her skin. She huffed out a breath and closed her eyes. “I’ll sleep it off.”