Page 21 of Her Airman

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The memory of the images she painted with words made his dick perk up. “That’s different,” he said.

“How?”

He provided the only answer he could think of—the truth. “Because one turns me on, and the other doesn’t.”

She planted both feet on the ground and scooted her chair closer to his. She nudged his knees apart, rested her elbows on her legs, and traced a line along his inner thigh. She didn’t brush his erection, but she came close. “If it doesn’t do anything for you, what are you right now?”

As hard as he had ever been. He couldn’t keep his gaze off her chest and the fantastic view down the front of her shirt. He drew a finger along her collarbone, eliciting a sharp gasp. “That has more to do with you than your artwork.”

“I thought you liked my drawing.”

“Your skill is borderline erotic; it’s true. The subject matter, not so much.”

Mischief danced behind her eyes, and she increased the pressure against the inside of his leg. “You’re telling me, if you’ve got a woman you’re wild about, and she wants you and another guy at the same time...”

He grimaced—not at the idea, but because he was having a hard time focusing on anything but her touch and the gorgeous curves in front of him.

“Let me finish.” Her voice was sultry and smooth. “You’re telling me you wouldn’t enjoy that at all? One of you between her legs, pounding away, and the other over her mouth, stroking himself, her tongue flicking out to caress his skin? That image doesn’t do anything for you?”

“I’m not opposed to balls touching.” It was hard to tell which visuals were doing what. All he knew was he’d need some sort of release before dinner. He was seconds from telling her exactly that, if it meant she’d help. “I’d rather be alone between your legs, eating you out.”

A flush spread over her cheeks, but she didn’t pull away. “I wasn’t talking about me, and I call bullshit.”

“Oh?” They’d had similar discussions before. Normally one of them backed down before things escalated, but his rushing blood and rock-hard erection wouldn’t let him drop the subject.

She tucked her hair behind her ear, still stroking the inside of his thigh with her thumb. “Guys who insist they like giving oral better than receiving it only say so because they’ve never gotten a good blow job.”

Fuck. What he’d give for a chance to prove her wrong. Or—hell—prove her right. “Tell me it’s not the same for you. Maybe you’ve just never had a guy who knew what he was doing.” He trailed off, half-expecting her to blow a fuse at the suggestion. When she raised her brows instead, he kept talking. “Besides, I never blame the girl. It’s just harder to get me off orally.”

“Bullshit. Again. I could so prove you wrong.”

Every inch of him roared in response. The thought of her lips wrapped around his cock was almost enough to make him come on the spot. “Too bad we’re not in a position to do that.”

“You look like you’re in the perfect position to me. You never gave me your answer the other day.”

That saved him from bringing it up. “About?” He wanted to hear her say it again. Make sure they were on the same page.

“You know what about. Call itfriends with benefits, if you want.”

It didn’t matter what they called it, as long as they kept the rules in mind. “Say I’m in.” In her. On her. “We promise it’s completely separate from our friendship?”

“Of course. We’re both okay with it, and neither of us assumes it will or won’t happen again. This is now, and every other moment is its own thing.”

Yes, goddammit. Yes.He forced his tone to remain even. “All right.”

“So the rules are simple. I bet I can get you off orally and you can’t do the same. You name the prize.”

“A screaming orgasm.”

“You’re on. Who goes first?”

He slid from his chair, done negotiating. He nudged her legs apart, scraping his fingers along the bare flesh of her inner thighs. Sharp cherry mingled with the scent of her sex, and his thoughts swam.

He kissed up the soft skin, the pain of anticipation straining against his jeans, when she moaned and arched her back. He glided his lips up one leg and down the other—from knee to knee—never moving past the edge of her shorts.

She whimpered and slid her butt forward in the seat. “You’re a tease.”

“And?” The need in her taunt made him smile.


Tags: Allyson Lindt Erotic