Page 49 of Small Town Swoo
I grimaced with frustration, as if I could actually feel her taunting me.
“When you were all worked up, I’d take you all the way in, so deep you hit the back of my throat. I’d use my hands. I’d suck you so hard.” She lowered her breathy voice to a whisper. “I can taste you.”
I groaned a little louder. Pumped my arm a little harder.
“You put your hands in my hair. You hold my head and fuck my mouth. I put my hand between my legs and touch myself while I think about how much I want to make you come.”
“Ari,” I choked out through clenched teeth. “Why are you so good at this?”
“Because I’ve thought about you like this so many times. You don’t know how badly I want to feel you throb between my lips and taste you dripping down my throat.”
“Jesus,” I whispered. Then I was grunting as the orgasm surged through me, unfurling from the base of my spine in hot, rhythmic pulses. In the dark, I felt my hand grow slick.
When the muscles in my lower body relaxed, I opened my eyes. “One sec,” I told her.
“Okay.”
In the bathroom, I took a minute to clean up, my head spinning with the knowledge that Ari had just given me the most intense orgasm I’d had in a long time, and she hadn’t even been in the damn room.
Which was unfortunate. Because I’d be ready to go again in about twenty minutes and would have given anything to have her in bed beside me.
Was that allowed? What were we doing? Where could this go?
I crawled back into bed and picked up my phone. “Hey.”
“Hi.”
“I was just wondering. Are we still friends?”
“Why wouldn’t we be?”
“I don’t usually tell my friends to get on their knees and suck my cock.”
“Sir! I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I laughed. “Never mind. I must have been mistaken.”
“I should say so. This was simply a goodnight chat between friends.”
“That was definitely my intention when I texted you.”
“Was it really?”
I paused. “No.”
“Good.” She laughed softly, and it made me want to wrap my arms around her and breathe her in, feel her skin on mine. “Well, I’m working early. I should get some sleep.”
“Maybe I’ll come in for lunch.”
“Do it. I have a new special for you to taste.”
“There’s only one thing I really want to taste.”
“Goodnight, Dash.”
“Night, Sugar.”
I woke up the next morning to an empty house and a note from my dad on the kitchen table telling me he’d decided to take his little road trip, but instead of driving, he was flying down to visit a friend in Tennessee. Laughing, I took a picture of it and sent the shot to Xander.
