He reaches between my legs, strokes me softly, and a growl catches in his throat. “You’ve been thinking about me touching you like this?” he asks.
“Jonah,” I say, sexual frustration lacing my voice as he teases me, circling my clit but never quite touching.
“You might as well admit it, Quinn. Just look at your panties…look how wet they are.” He runs his finger along my length, presses into my opening, and I moan. “Don’t lie to me. I feel how wet you are.”
As I stare at him, I’m fully aware that there is no sense in denying it. I want his touch, and my wetness is a dead giveaway. “I’ve been thinking about you touching me,” I admit. I take in his dark eyes, and just hope he doesn’t ask how long I’ve been fantasying about us together like this. He doesn’t need to know that it goes back many years. Since he always overlooked me, I pretended to hate him. That was easier than rejection.
He’s not rejecting you now, Quinn.
No, he’s not. He’s looking at me with hunger, worship even. I’m certain this is a one-night thing. Come tomorrow, when we’re not overcome with lust, we’ll both come to our senses and realize this wasn’t smart. But tonight—oh, tonight, I plan on taking full advantage of our bad choices.
“The second I saw you in these boxers, I became wet,” I admit, deciding to hold nothing back.
He grins. “See, that wasn’t so hard, was it? And since you’re being honest, I will be too.” He runs a finger over my sex, and finally, finally, strokes my swollen clit, and my hips come off the counter. He sucks in a breath, a tortured look on his face, like it’s taking every ounce of strength he has to keep it together. “Earlier tonight, I almost took my cock in my hands and jacked off as I thought about burying my mouth between your legs and eating you.”
“That’s…” I begin, my body visually quaking. “That’s what you’re into?” I ask, and don’t miss the anticipation in my voice.
“Oh, yeah. That’s exactly what I’m into.”
He pulls my hips forward and puts my legs over his shoulders. A little whimper catches in my throat as he leans into me and run his tongue along my slit. I grip his hair and shamelessly rub against him.
“Jonah,” I cry out, as he expertly pleasures me with his mouth, eats at me like he’d been living on rations. My eyes slide shut, and the room closes in on me, nothing mattering but this man and the way he’s devouring me. He moans, a telltale sign that he loves what he’s doing as much as I love him doing it. He runs the long length of his tongue over me, then pushes it inside my sex. Mumbled curses reach my ear, and for a second I can’t believe Jonah is between my legs, giving me pleasuring unlike any other man ever has.
“So good!” I cry out, and wiggle. He grips my hips, holds me still, keeping me at his mercy as he feasts on me. His tongues swirls around my clit, laps at it, and then, oh God, and then he slides one finger into me—and with that first sweet touch to my G-spot, a dam burst inside my body, and a hot flood of need, many long years in the making, spills out of me.
I gasp for breath, claw at the man licking me, each clench more intense than the first, overwhelming me in ways that are a bit frightening.
“Jonah,” I say when I can finally find my voice again, my nails dragging skin as I run my hands over his back. He stays between my legs a moment longer, touching me softly, licking me gently.
I grip his shoulders, needing my mouth on him. He stands and slides his hands around my body, pulling me to him…claiming me.
“I want you on my bed, legs open.” He pulls me onto his hips, and I wrap my legs and arms around him as he carries me up the stairs like I weigh nothing. We step into his room, and he closes the door quietly behind us.
He carries me to his bed, and I slide down his body. My feet hit the floor, but I don’t stop there. I continue down and kneel in front of him, glance at his poor tortured cock trapped in his boxers.
“Quinn,” he growls. “Jesus fuck, Quinn. What are you doing?”
I stroke him through his boxers, and he’s as hard as granite. “I thought I’d show you some other things that I’m into,” I say. While it’s not entirely true, I never really enjoyed this with the few men I’ve been with, for some odd reason, I can’t wait to put Jonah’s cock in my mouth.
“You on your knees like this…I might fucking explode down your throat.” I quake at that. “But I won’t. Not this time.”
Disappointment settles in my stomach. “No?”
He grips my hair and tugs until my mouth is open, and I’m starting to understand how much he likes me like this. “Because there are so many other things I want to do to you tonight, and when I come, I want to be inside your sweet pussy.”
I gulp, wanting that too.
His hips sway, and I grab the elastic on his boxers and tug them down. His cock jerks forward, slaps my face, leaves a streak of pre-cum on my lips. I brush my tongue over my bottom lip to taste him, and the grip in my hair tightens. Jonah is losing it. That thought fills me with power. I’m doing this to him. Me, Quinn Reed, the girl he always overlooked and challenged when we were young. Damn, I like that. Maybe a bit too much.
Wanting to rattle him just a bit more, I say, “Have you been thinking about me on my knees like this, your cock so deep in my mouth it’s practically down my throat?”
His entire body trembles, and I lean forward to lap at his crown, drink in the rest of his pre-cum.
“Quinn, Jesus,” he grumbles, a warning lingering behind his words.
Deciding to put him out of his misery—I mean, after all, he’d just given me the best orgasm of my life—I widen my mouth even more and offer it up to him.
He grips his cock, strokes it a few times, then slowly slides into my mouth, feeding me an inch at a time until I choke a little. He pulls out, but I grip his ass and hold him there, wanting to take as much as I can.