“You’re staring.”
“You’re just so hot.”
“You call me hot stuff right now, and I’ll . . .”
Her breath hitched. “You’ll what?”
Spank her?
“Get on with it, girl,” he grumbled.
“Anyone ever told you that you can be a bit, um, grouchy?” She hoped she didn’t insult him.
“I’ve heard it a time or two.”
Was that amusement in his voice? She wasn’t sure why. But she was tired of waiting as well by now. Moving her hands to the top of his boxers, she drew them down, revealing his thick, veined shaft.
Oh, Lord.
“Whoa,” she muttered. “He’s huge.”
She glanced up at him, then back down as he shifted his hips to pull his boxers down further, revealing his balls. Damn.
Now she was dying to taste him. Only he was moving his hand lazily up and down his cock.
“Does he have a name?” she asked.
“No, my cock doesn’t have a name,” he huffed, sounding insulted. “Jesus, who names their dick?”
“I think if I had one, I would.”
“Really, girl? And what would you name it?”
“Ding Dong Willy or Wing Dang Doodle. Or Jack.”
He just gaped at her.
“What? You don’t like Jack?” she asked.
“Better than the other two.”
“Ooh, or Widdle Diddle. That’s a good one.”
“Girl, you best never call my dick Widdle Diddle. What kind of word is widdle, anyway?”
It was a word that rhymed with diddle, obviously. She guessed she could have gone with fiddle, but that wouldn’t have been as funny. And right now, she was trying hard not to burst into laughter at the look on his face.
“Open your mouth. I need to fill it before you insult me any further and you name him limp diddle.”
She giggled.
“No giggling. There is no giggling during sex.”
He wasn’t serious, right?
She couldn’t tell. He had a great poker face. Maybe he could help her learn to lie.
Before she could ask him that though, he crooked a finger at her. “Open your lips and take my dick into your mouth.”