Page 51 of Puck

“Don’t come yet.”

“Why not?”

“Because I told you not to. I want you to wait.”

“I can’t much longer.” He tensed all over, hands fisted under his thighs, jaw clenched, breathing hard.

“A little longer. It’ll be worth it.” I kept stroking smooth, even motions from tip to root and back up.

I made him wait, slowing down enough that he started thrusting helplessly, needing the release.

“Puck,” I whispered, and his eyes flitted up to mine.

“Yeah?”

“Say ‘Please, Colbie.’”

His mouth twisted in a grin. “Please, Colbie?”

“How many more orgasms are you gonna give me if I let you take me somewhere private?”

“As many as you can handle, plus one or two more.”

“And I’m gonna pass out from it?” I slowed nearly to a stop, backing him slightly away from the edge.

“Most likely, yeah.” He was thrusting, needing touch, movement, friction.

“Say my name again, Puck.”

He laughed, a huffing grunt. “Colbie.”

I couldn’t hide the pleased smile as I leaned toward him. “Keep saying my name.”

He blinked at me, disbelieving, as I bent over him. “Colbie . . . Jesus—Colbie.”

“Mmm.” It was all I could manage, because I had him in my mouth.

I tasted him and myself. Flesh. Salt. Musk. Sex. Heat, man. My jaw was stretched, and I felt him on my tongue, sliding past my teeth sheathed behind my lips. He let out a long, groaning breath, which I realized belatedly was my name, he was groaning my name like a prayer, drawn out, as I wrapped my lips around him and gave him the heat and warmth and wetness of my mouth.

I couldn’t take much and didn’t try. I stroked him underneath my mouth, moving my hands quickly now, because I knew I couldn’t make him wait any longer. And I didn’t want him to.

He sucked a breath in, a sharp inhalation, and then his teeth clicked together. “Colbie, babe—holy shit. I can’t—I’m gonna—fuck, fuck,fuck—”

I backed away slowly, let him pop free of my mouth, my saliva connecting my lips to his cock in a string, or maybe it was saliva and his pre-come mixed together. He tensed, hips locked in a forward thrust, head pressed back against the seat.

“Now, Puck,” I whispered.

I gathered his underwear and cupped it under the broad head of his cock, shielding the tip with the stretchy black cotton. Stroked him in long, fast jerks, my hand a blur around his root. I felt his breath catch, felt his cock throb and pulse. Shifted my hand up around the top of him and kept going, hard and fast. He growled, a sound from the bottom of his throat, from his chest, muffled as he buried his face in my hair.

“Ohhhh . . . god,Colbie. . .” he breathed.

And then he came. I watched his come jet out of him, soaking into the underwear, kept stroking him as fast as I could. He murmured something unintelligible, thrusting into my hand, and come shot out of him again and again.

I couldn’t stop myself. I bent over him again, guided him into my mouth and flicked my tongue over his cock as he spurted one last little drip. I tasted his seed, thick and salty and tangy and musky, and I licked again and swallowed the little bit that leaked out of him and glided my fist around him as he gasped. I backed away, and kept going with just one hand, slow, deliberate strokes to milk every last little bit of his come out of him, white droplets beading at his tip and sliding down the underside of his cock. I licked them away and kept stroking until he hissed.

“Colbie, holy shit—Colbie.”

“Yes, Puck?”