Page 102 of The Auction
“It’s just…” My throat feels like it’s closing. “I’ve never…”
I swallow hard, forcing the rest out.
One of his large hands cups my jaw, tilting my face up until I’m trapped in the molten steel of his gaze. His thumb brushes over my lower lip, slow and deliberate. “Tell me.”
I lean into his touch, eyes fluttering closed for a second before I open them again. Deep breath.
“I’ve never seen a… penis,” I whisper, cheeks flaming, “like… up close.”
The grin that spreads over his face nearly melts my bones—and my panties.
I rush to clarify, words tumbling over themselves because we both know I’ve seen his—from across a room—withtwowomenobstructingthe view.
“I mean, you know I’ve seen… and I’ve watched porn before. On my phone. You know. But… not up close.”
He leans back, his grin turning wicked. Then he sinks lower in the chair, legs spreading wider. “You want to look at my cock, baby? Have at it.”
My breath catches.
He laces his fingers together and rests them behind his head like he’s settling in for a show and I simultaneously want to slap him and climb him like a tree.
But with a deep breath I reach for the button of his jeans, hands trembling. I glance up at him for one last second before flicking it open. The zipper slides down slow, the sound far too loud in the quiet between us.
He lifts his hips just enough to help me tug them down a few inches, and I see the unmistakable outline straining against the fabric of his boxers.
I can’t help it—I run my palm over him. Solid. Hot.
His breath escapes in a deep, satisfied sound—like my touch is something he’s been waiting for. Or maybe it’s the fact that I’m finally giving it.
My fingers trace the outline again, slower this time, feeling every ridge and curve through the thin fabric. I glance up at him, but he’s watching me through half-lidded eyes, jaw tight, a muscle ticking there like he’s fighting to stay still.
I hook my fingers over the waistband of his boxers, hesitating just long enough to feel my pulse in my ears. Then I tug them down and his cock thumps on his stomach.
“Oh,”
He’s thick. Heavy. Hard in a way that makes my mouth go dry and my heart trip over itself. My fingers hover for a second, uncertain, before I wrap one hand around him.
God, he’s so hot—literally hot—in my palm. Smooth skin stretched over steel.
He exhales through his nose, slow but sharp, like he’s trying not to give me too much. That makes me bolder. I run my hand from the base to the tip, my thumb brushing over the bead of slick at the crown.
His breath catches, and it shoots straight through me, low and electric.
I try again, a little firmer this time, and his hips shift just barely toward my hand. A small, involuntary movement, but I feel it—and I like it. I grip him a little tighter, moving in a slow rhythm.
“Yeah,” he murmurs, voice deep and rough, eyes locked on mine now. “Just like that, Cricket.”
I lick my lips without thinking, my gaze flicking between my hand and his face. His head tips back just a little, the muscles in his neck going taut, and watching him fight for control does something to me.
My thumb circles over the head again, and his breath shudders. “Fuck…”
That word, from him, makes me squeeze just a little harder, experimenting. His hips shift again, like he can’t help it, and my stomach flips. I’m turning him on. I’m making him squirm.
And I don’t want to stop.
I keep my pace slow but deliberate, my other hand bracing against his thigh. The more I touch him, the more I feel my own body heat rising, this strange ache blooming low in my belly. It’s intoxicating—the weight of him in my hand, the way he’s letting me explore, the way every reaction feels like a reward.
“Look at you,” he says, voice low and dark, his eyes dragging over my face. “First time touching a cock and you’re already killing me.”
