Page 18 of Omega
I wrapped my free hand around the thick root of his cock and stroked him there too, hard and fast now, while moving my mouth up and down slowly, slowly. The contrast of the slow movement of my mouth versus the quick hard jacking motion of my hand drove him crazy, and he shot another thick stream of come into my mouth. I swallowed. He groaned, a low but loud rumble, and I kept the contrasting pace going, milked his orgasm for yet another spurting gush, another smaller one, and then one last dribble.
Finally done coming, he let out a sigh.
But I wasn’t done. I used my hand alone now, caressing him slowly from root to tip, coaxing more semen out of him, casting a glance at him as I licked it away. Again. And only when he was finally starting to subside and go limp did I let him go, helping him tug his underwear and pants back into place.
And at that moment, as I was tucking him back into his boxer-briefs, the privacy glass whirred and lowered,.
“Hey, we were thinking of stopping for—ohJesus! Seriously, you two?” Layla’s voice shifted from casual query to disgust and outrage within a single breath. “You’re for real blowing him right there in the back of the limo? We’re righthere!”
I glanced at Layla as I zipped, fastened, and buckled Roth. “That’s why it’s called privacy glass.”
“Yeah, but—” she faked a dramatic shudder. “Seriously did not need to see that.”
“Good thing you didn’t open the window any sooner, then,” I said, resuming my seat and smoothing my hair back.
Layla just stared at me for a long moment, and then her brows drew down. “Um. You’ve got some…right by your mouth—oh god. I’m not sure I can look at you anymore.”
I wiped at my face and grinned at her. “Oh please. Like I’ve never walked in on you before. In fact, I think I did, and you didn’t even slow down, if I remember right. You just kept on going.”
Layla looked equal parts embarrassed and angry. Roth was silent, but clearly enjoying it, and Harris? I wasn’t sure about him. He kept his eyes straight ahead, hands at ten and two on the wheel.
“Yeah, well—” Layla started. But then she laughed despite herself. “That was so damn awkward. We were in the shower and you had to use the bathroom. But he was right there so I couldn’t juststop, and you were about to wet yourself.”
I laughed even harder. “I pretended I didn’t know what was going on, and you pretended I wasn’t there. Only, there was a shower curtain between us, clear from the waist up. Thank god it wasn’t glass, but I could just see the top of your head moving…”
“You wouldn’t look at either of us for weeks after that.”
“Yeah, well, your creeptastic whatever-of-the-month didn’t have that problem. He’d look at me like ‘yeah buddy, you want some, too?’”
“He did?” Layla asked.
“Um, yeah? He stared me down all the time after that. Gave me these looks, wiggled his eyebrows. Shit, he all but pulled his junk out and offered it to me.”
Harris coughed, then, and Layla glanced at him, and I saw her expression shift from amusement to embarrassment, and from there to walls-up defensive anger. “What?” She turned to him. “Got something to say,Harry?”
He swiveled his head ever so slightly. “No, Miss Campari.”
“Oh please. ‘Miss Campari’ my ass. You know my fucking name.”
“True.”
“So what?” She tilted her head, and I could tell by the set of her shoulders that she was spoiling for a fight, Layla-style. Poor Harris. Layla in pissed-off or embarrassed mode is scary. She could flay the red off a brick with nothing but a few well-turned phrases. “You don’t like to hear about my sexual exploits…Harry? Got a problem with it?”
“Not at all.”
“Well it sure as fuck seems that way. That little cough, likeexcuse me? Sounded to me like a judgmental sort of cough, know what I mean?”
“Not at all. It isn’t my place to judge.”
“But you are, aren’t you? Bet you’re wondering how many dicks I’ve sucked in the shower, aren’t you?” She leaned close, enunciating each syllable very clearly and carefully. “Alot. Not just in the shower, either. In the car. In the bed. On the couch. Public bathrooms. Behind the bleachers. Everywhere. Iloveblowjobs, Harry. They’re my fuckingspecialty.”
Harris’s shoulders lifted and lowered as he took a long breath and let it out. His fingers flexed on the steering wheel. “Very clever play on words, Miss Campari.”
“My name isLayla.”
“I’m aware.”
She traced the shell of Harris’s ear with her finger. “Bet you want a sample of the goods, don’t you? A little test run? Right here, right now?” She leaned closer. “You want some road head, Harry?”