Page 41 of Unconditionally Yours

I know I’m big. It’s not something I say, it’s just a fact I have to accommodate in pretty much every aspect of life. But the way her pupils dilate, the way she makes a sound, low and delighted and utterly unhinged, as she licks her lips?

I’m gone.

“You’re so fucking pretty,” she whispers, palming me like I’m the most interesting toy she’s ever seen. “Look at you. Benji. Do you know what this is going to do to me?”

“I, what it’s gonna do to me,” I manage, voice cracking like I’m a teenager. “You sure about this?”

“Absolutely not.” She kisses the head, tongue swirling. “Which means yes.”

Then she goes down.

Or tries to.

Her mouth stretches wide, jaw working, spit already slicking me up like she knew she wasn’t going to get it all but needed to try. It’s messy. It’s obscene. And it’s the hottest thing I’ve ever survived.

“Fuck, Delilah, precious.” I grip the edge of the entryway table so hard it creaks. “You don’t have to… shit.”

She moans around me like hell yes she does, like this is sacred work and I’m the altar she’s ready to ruin.

I’ve had blowjobs before. But this? This is worship.

One hand wraps tight around my base, the other drags across my hip, nails biting in just enough to make my thighs twitch. She pulls off, gasping like she’s proud of herself.

“Gonna make you come,” she pants, eyes glassy. “Right here. Right now. Can’t stop thinking about it.”

“I’m not gonna last,” I admit, dizzy. “You’re killing me.”

“Good,” she growls, licking a stripe up the side and sinking back down, deeper this time.

I actually whimper. I didn’t even know I could make that sound.

She’s bobbing her head now, relentless, hand twisting in perfect sync.

“Delilah, I, fuck, you gotta stop or I’m gonna.”

She pulls off just long enough to breathe, “Then do it, big guy.”

My whole body locks up. My hips jerk once, sharp and helpless. I come hard, groaning like I’m being ripped open.

She doesn’t pull away. Just holds me through it, swallowing what she can, messy and perfect and grinning up at me.

I collapse back against the door, panting, chest heaving, legs barely holding me up.

She licks her lips. “Hi,” she says brightly. “So, still want me to stay for lunch?”

I laugh. Or wheeze. It might be both.

“Delilah,” I breathe. “Lunch. Dinner. Forever. Yeah.”

She’s still on her knees, licking the corner of her mouth like she just taste-tested her favorite flavor.

Mine.

I’m trying to remember how to breathe.

She climbs to her feet like she’s not done.

“You good?” she asks, eyes wild and hair a wreck and somehow the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.