Page 23 of Wicked Design
She wailed.
He stiffened, cum spurting, the world careening. Trembling uncontrollably, he sagged to his elbows, the magic taking him to the outer limits then straight back to Earth, the party over too quickly, leaving him breathless and weak.
He grinned like a loon.
She giggled. “That was epic, awesome, and legendary.” She kissed his shoulders and cheeks. “Roll over.”
Moving wasn’t in his current repertoire. Give him ten minutes and he’d be good to go. “Am I too heavy?”
“No. Please?”
Took him two tries but he finally managed to get her on top.
She draped herself over him. “How long do you usually sleep after sex?”
Her question stunned him. It was as bad as a guy questioning a woman’s IQ. “I don’t.” He would have killed for a nap but shook off his fatigue. “How long are you down after you climax?”
“How about we find out tonight? We’ll make it one of our goals. I’m hungry. You?”
If eating kept him awake, yeah. “Sure.”
She slipped over his leg, pulled off the condom, and licked his flaccid length.
Too much pleasure shrieked through him, his cock still über-sensitive. “Holy mother fuck.”
“You don’t like this?”
“Sure, once I can breathe and my heart isn’t threatening to burst.”
“Got it. How about this?” She tongued his balls.
He shot to a sitting position and eased her back. “That’s even worse. How about we eat regular food and have this for dessert?”
“I like the way you think.” She tossed his condom to the wastebasket near the table and pulled the bags onto the bed.
Sagged against the headboard, he blinked repeatedly to keep his eyes open. “Want me to help?”
“I have it. Relax—even though you don’t need to.” She winked.
His laughter spilled out before he could stop himself. “I’m fine. I refuse to nod off.”
“You may regret that later. Mind if I ask you something personal?”
“I’ve never fallen asleep during sex.”
“Wow. You’re the man. But that wasn’t what I wanted to ask.”
“I’m six two and a half.”
“I figured as much.” She stroked his cock lightly. “A woman has ways of knowing those things.”
And here he thought a guy’s hands gave away how hung he was.
“But that still doesn’t answer my question.”
“This is about me not being circumcised, isn’t it?” The foreskin covered his shriveled crown, making his length seem even shorter. “If I could have been, I would have, for no other reason than to fit in with the rest of the guys growing up. My parents wouldn’t have it.” He made a face. “They belong to this small, conservative sect that’s pretty much against anything they believe is a liberal conspiracy.”
“Like circumcision? I thought that was an ancient Jewish tradition.”
