Page 44

A POPSICLE LESSON

Tyler

When I walk into the kitchen, Sabrina is standing in front of the fridge, music playing—Amelia Stone’s newest album. There’s an excited look in her eyes. I texted her that I’d be home soon.

“You’re wearing my favorite color,” I say, eyeing the sky-blue top she has on. She’s also playing one of my favorite singers, but I keep that little detail to myself for some reason. Maybe to focus on her.

“Oh, is it?” she asks.

“It sure is. It’s the color of your eyes,” I say, advancing toward her.

“You like it on me?” she teases.

“So much,” I murmur.

She waggles a little red book at me.

I furrow my brow. “What’s that?”

“A sex diary,” she says.

She just gets better and better.

“Does it say, ‘Dear Diary, Tyler Falcon fucked my brains out tonight?’”

“Yes,” she says. “And you got five stars.”

My heart does a little jig. That’s so her. And I fucking love it.

I love it so much, I close the distance between us, grab her face, and haul her in for a hot, scorching kiss that fries my brain. I kiss her deeply, savoring the sweet lip gloss taste of her mouth, the sexy sigh she makes, and the way she melts into me, her body pressed to mine.

I devour her, needing all of her as the kiss rockets through my cells. My head is a haze of orange blossoms and the woman I want.

When I let go, she steadies herself against the counter, blinking as a shudder wracks her body, like an aftershock.

“Wow,” she breathes. “That was a five-star kiss.”

“They all are with you.” I shake my head, amazed I lasted over two weeks without having her in my bed. “I deserve a fucking medal for my restraint. I missed you.”

Her smile is bright and beautiful. “But I’ve been right here the whole time.”

I close the distance between us again, threading my fingers through her soft, shiny hair. “I know. And I still missed you.”

Then I show her just how much. Kissing her again, grabbing her ass, hooking her legs around my waist.

I want to haul her up onto the counter, get down on my knees and eat her, then finger her, then fuck her.

But she said she wanted to surprise me, and she’s calling the shots.

So I let go and ask, “What’ll it be tonight?”

She spins around, yanks open the freezer, and takes out the Popsicles she asked me to buy last week. I’d be lying if I said the shape of the dessert hadn’t crossed my mind, and what that might mean. But I didn’t want to assume.

She takes one out, meets my gaze, and says, “I want you to coach me.”

My brain pops. My cock thickens to steel in my jeans.

It didn’t take a genius to figure blow jobs were on the list tonight when she grabbed the box. But I didn’t expect those words. The earnestness in her voice. The hope in her tone. The want in her eyes.

“I will. Under one condition.”

“Name it.”

I slide my hand around her waist.

“I’ll coach you. But you need to know this—I’m going to love every fucking second of it.”

She rolls her lips together like she’s holding in all her excitement. “Me too. Can I unwrap it now?”

“You’d better,” I say, my voice rough.

She unwraps the Popsicle—a long, cherry one, then sets the box back in the freezer. “What do I do now?”

Her eyes are wide. Guileless. Innocent, but also filthy at the same time. Flickering with desire. With her wish to learn.

“Part your lips just slightly,” I tell her.

She complies.

“Yeah. That’s perfect. Do you know why?”

She shakes her head. “No idea.”

I lift a hand, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Because it looks like you really want it. That’s the best part of a blow job. When she wants to give it to you.”

She shudders slightly. “I want it. I want you.”

Best words ever. “Same here, baby. Same fucking here,” I say.

Her lips remain parted as she lifts the Popsicle, waiting for my instruction. And I am an inferno, burning everywhere .

Somehow, I manage to speak. “Just the tip. Just past those gorgeous lips.”

She brings the icy treat to her mouth and I nearly lose my mind.

I grip the edge of the counter, holding tight so I don’t ruin this lesson by ending it too soon. “Now, flick your tongue around the head.”

And I watch as she swirls her tongue around it. It’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.

Then it’s even sexier when she draws half an inch of red ice into her mouth. A jolt of pleasure slams into me, barreling down my spine.

I can barely stand how good she looks right now.

“Wrap your lips around it,” I grit out, mesmerized, unable to look anywhere else.

She gasps as she sucks the tip of the Popsicle.

A sharp breath hisses out between my teeth. Fuck.

My face is on fire. My cock throbs in my jeans. I am turned on in every single cell of my body.

“Does it taste good?” I manage to ask.

She nods against the Popsicle, murmuring, “Delish.”

“Now draw a little more between those sweet lips,” I tell her.

She pulls it out of her mouth for a second. “Like this?”

Then she draws it back in.

Sucking it deeper. Moaning around it.

Holy fuck.

I don’t know how I’m gonna last through this lesson.

The icy treat slides past those pretty pink lips.

I’m mesmerized as I watch her suck, her cheeks hollowing out, her eyes fluttering closed.

She moans around it, then stops. Taking a breath, she lets it fall from her mouth, holding it just in front of her chin.

A drop of cherry juice slides down the length of the frozen treat.

I watch it go. Even the Popsicle is so turned on, it’s close.

I clench my fists. My chest is tight with anticipation.

“Does that work?” Sabrina asks.

“What?” I can barely think. I’m not sure I can speak in anything but grunts.

“Did I do it right?”

She’s such a good student, and so eager to please. And if I’m only getting one night with her every couple of weeks, I want to make the most of it. With more restraint than I’d ever thought I had, I step closer, curl a hand around her throat, and say, “Do it one more time.”

With my thumb pressing lightly against the sides of her neck—not too tight, just enough to make her breath hitch—she brings the Popsicle back to her mouth, gliding it in. She asks me with her eyes if this is okay.

“Farther,” I instruct.

She takes it deeper, and I gently rub her throat. “Remember, baby. Just relax. Just like that.”

Her muscles loosen under my palm, and I groan as the awareness hits me—she takes instructions so damn well. So well, she’s now dragging the treat all the way past her lips, so only the wooden handle is exposed.

My nostrils flare.

My eyes widen.

And I snap.

“That’s enough,” I say, letting go of her delicate throat. “Practice on me now.”

She pushes the Popsicle out of her mouth and sets it hastily on a plate on the counter. “It’s a good thing I practiced beforehand on all these Popsicles. To drive you wild.”

On that mic drop of all mic drops, she falls to her knees, yanking at my jeans in a flurry.

She’s all messy and aggressive, and that heats me up so I help her along, shoving my jeans down and freeing my cock.

She’s on me in a second, and my mind short-circuits with cracks and pops of pleasure.

Lust floods my body. I stumble backward against the counter, gripping it for balance.

“Holy fuck,” I say. Her mouth is icy, and sensations zing through me. I’ve never felt anything like this. “Your mouth is so cold.”

“Want me to stop?” she teases, dropping me from her lips.

I grab the back of her head, gripping tight. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

With a wicked smile, she drops her mouth back onto me, sucking me past her lips again.

She’s icy cold. And it’s so fucking hot. She sucks with fervor and zero finesse, and I don’t care. Because her enthusiasm is the sexiest thing ever.

She’s not artful. I’m not even sure she’s doing anything I just told her to do in that briefest of brief tutorials. And I’m entirely sure I don’t care—because I’m gripping the counter, clenching my teeth, and holding on for dear life.

Sabrina Snow is on her knees, sucking the chrome off my cock, the loudest, filthiest slurping noises I’ve ever heard echoing in my kitchen. It’s wet and messy, and I am being eaten alive by the flames inside my body.

Her hands are everywhere, like she can’t stop touching me. Her fingernails scratch up my abs, then down my legs, then inside my thighs. She sucks my dick, plays with my balls, and slides that deliciously cold mouth up and down my shaft again and again.

I feel like a pinball machine. She’s playing me, pulling levers, launching the silver ball inside me this way and that, where everything is lighting up, and I have no idea where anything is going—except it feels like she’s about to hit the high score on this machine.

And then, she draws me in deep, lips stretched wide, hand gripping the base, the head of my cock hitting the back of her throat—until she coughs.

I pull out, stroking her cheek as I meet her eyes. “You okay, baby?”

She grabs my dick and yanks it right back between her lips. “I’m all good,” she says and she takes me in, then resumes her enthusiastic, extraordinary pace, sucking with ferocity.

With the same rabid desire I feel for her.

Spit dribbles down the side of her mouth. And she doesn’t stop. She keeps going.

That’s all it takes.

I’m shaking, shuddering, gripping the back of her head, fucking her throat—until I’m spilling in her mouth. My world goes offline. Pleasure steals all my senses. This filthy bliss rattles my world as I groan and grunt for days.

When I ease out and blink open my eyes, there’s a wicked look in her baby blues. I don’t even know why—until she parts her lips.

She’s been holding my come in her mouth.

She pokes out the corner of her tongue, coated in my release, and flicks it against her red-stained lips—slow, deliberate—a red-and-white finale, a work of dirty art before she presses her lips together and makes a show of swallowing it all.

I swear, I nearly come again. “I’m giving you an A for artistry and filth,” I say, my voice as drained as I feel.