Page 39

Rhys

I ’m so hard and ready that when she comes, I have to stop myself from thrusting against the blanket, against the ground, and following her over the edge.

What stops me is knowing that she wants me to, that she wants me to lose control, and I both want to deny her and give her exactly what she wants.

I want to do both, and I want to do them deliberately so she can wring all the pleasure from them that she can.

“God,” she says. “I can barely think.”

“Good. Then I’ve done my job.”

I roll to my side next to her, and we lie like that for a while.

She shivers, and we both reach for her clothes at the same time, kneeling and then standing, helping her back into them.

I’m sorry to see her cover up. She’s extra pretty in the moonlight, her nipples hard peaks under pink lace, the neat triangle of curls at the apex of her thighs darker than her hair but still blondish.

Some of her body’s moisture gleams on her skin, and I slick my finger through it and lick the taste of her off myself, and she shudders again, like an aftershock.

When she’s dressed, she reaches for the button of my jeans.

“You don’t have to do that. None of this is tit for tat.”

Even though I know what she wants. But I need to make her ask for it. I need to make her say the words.

“I want to,” she says.

“What do you want?” I urge.

“I want to suck you.”

Even though I was partly expecting them, her words still catch an unexpected edge of pleasure, and my cock surges so hard in my jeans that I clamp a hand to the base, holding the orgasm at bay.

“Do it,” I order.

She kneels without hesitation, and her eagerness catches me off guard, too. Everything she does is more and better than anything that’s ever happened to me.

She unfastens my jeans, pushes down the front of my briefs, and frees me. The cold takes me down a notch immediately, and that’s good. I want to last longer in her mouth, to stay as long as she’ll have me.

She slips her warm mouth over the head of my cock and works just that much of me, tongue strong and creative, fist closing around the base, holding me steady while she plays.

Licking down the shaft, she takes more of me, her tongue flattening out along my length.

She’s good at this, and I don’t want to think about the other men she’s had in her mouth or how she learned to use her tongue like that, to play with the textures inside her mouth, giving me the velvet of her cheek and the rasp of her tongue and the smooth, clenching back of her throat in turn.

I take what I’m given and let my brain go quiet and dark while pleasure palms my balls and winds around the base of my cock.

Despite the cold, despite her tight grip on my base, despite how much I want this to last, I’m edging up fast. She’s too good, every new touch a surprise that jacks me closer to release, and I know there’s only a little more of this before it’ll be over.

“Where do you want me?” I ask her. My voice is broken and raspy. “Do you want me to come down your throat or all over your pretty tits?”

She lets me go in a heartbeat, my wet cock bobbing back against my bare stomach below the hem of the T-shirt I’ve lifted to give her clearance. For a second I’m not sure what she’s doing, and then it makes sense; she’s lifting her shirt over her head, reaching behind herself to unfasten her bra.

Holy fuck, she’s gorgeous—small, round perfect breasts, nipples peaked tight by the cold. It’s impossible to tell the color in the dark, but it doesn’t matter, it just matters that they’re taut and needy when I reach my hands out to pinch them.

Eden makes a small, desperate whimper and sinks her mouth back to my cock.

I tease and roll and flick her nipples while she takes me as deep as she can, all the way to the soft, snug back of her throat, her lips and tongue tightening fiercely around my shaft, and then, when I can’t hold back and the pleasure has nowhere else to go, she knows and pulls off with a soft, wet pop, and I come in long bursts of relief, white pulses on her bare tits in the moonlight, so hard I nearly black out.