Page 51 of Stroked by (Stroked)
At eye level, I take in his cock, perfectly hard, straight with a slight curve leaning toward the sky, making my mouth water. He’s shaven, not bare, but short, showing that he still is a man, if I didn’t realize that already by the giant cock sitting in front of me.
“Paisley,” he groans.
Taking that as an indication of how impatient he is, I glide my hands up his thighs and grip his balls with my left, squeezing just enough that he shifts his stance. With my right hand, I grip the base of his cock and prop it up just enough for my tongue to run along his length.
The minute I taste him, my mind goes blank and my mouth takes over. I run my tongue along the underside of his cock, from the very top to the base, where I flick his squeezed balls.
“Christ.” I glance up to see one of his hands covering his face, his control slipping—one lick at a time.
Satisfied, I continue to lick my way back up to his tip, and circle the head, once, twice, three times and then descend my entire mouth over his dick, sucking him into the back of my throat, letting his length fill me.
“Jesus. Fuck, Paisley.”
I don’t let up. I’m relentless. I match every suck of his cock with a stroke of my hand—my mouth and hand work together in tandem—pumping Reese to the brink of his orgasm. His body straightens and he tangles himself in my hair, gripping me tightly.
“I’m going to come, Paisley,” he announces, but I don’t stop. I take that as a cue to dive down harder, never letting up until he’s moaning my name, pulling on my hair and releasing himself deep in my throat. “Motherfucker,” he groans just as his fist hits the door behind me.
I wipe my mouth and stand up, still trapped between him and the door. His eyes have a heady feel, sleepy and satisfied. His entire body is relaxed, as if he just dropped a two-hundred-pound piece of luggage he’s been carrying around for months.
With a goofy grin on his face, his hand cups my cheek and brings my lips to his, and he gently kisses them, passionately twines my tongue with his, slowly and methodically making out with me, sending chills once again down my body.
Between kisses, I hear my phone start to ring, breaking the silence that rests between us. I pull away and look down at my bag. “I have to get that.”
“Are you serious?” he asks.
“Yes.” I bend down to my purse and find my phone. Without looking at the caller ID because I’m in such a daze I answer. “Hello?”
“Hey sweetness.”
“Hey Jonathan,” I say before thinking what comes out of my mouth. I glance up at Reese who now has anger in his eyes.
“Are you coming home for dinner?”
Have you ever answered your phone in front of someone else and known right then and there that the volume is too loud on your phone, and the other person can hear everything the person on the phone is saying? Yeah, that’s happening to me right now. I fumble with my phone to turn the volume down, to only turn it up.
“I made dinner for us.”
A dangerous tick in Reese’s jaw starts throbbing as he grinds his teeth, his hazel eyes so dark I can no longer see the gold flecks that speckle his irises.
“Um, yup. Just have to drop some things off, then I’ll be back. See you soon.” I hang up before Jonathan can say anything else.
I loop my arm through my purse, tuck my phone away, and stand back up. Reese now has his towel wrapped back around him and every muscle in his body has tightened with anger.
“Who the fuck was that?” he hisses at me.
“That was Jonathan—”
“Are you fucking someone else and didn’t tell me? If you have a boyfriend, Paisley, you could have mentioned that before you went and sucked me off.”
Like a slap to the face, his words insult me. Does he really think so poorly of me that I would drop down to my knees in front of him while I have a boyfriend back home, making dinner for me?
“Excuse me?”
“Fuck!” he shouts, running both of his hands through his hair, curls springing from his fingers. “Do you understand what you’re doing to me, Paisley? I can’t fucking concentrate on my swimming, as you’re all I can think about, and you didn’t even have the decency to tell me you’re in a relationship? At least I was open and honest with you.” He pauses and turns to me. “Did you at least have fun? Sucking off The Silver Stroke? Are you going to go brag about it now?”
That’s it. I don’t take much crap from people, no matter how gorgeously hot they are. Without thinking, I slap him across the face, this time meaning to hit him.
“Fuck you, Reese, and your asinine assumptions. Jonathan is my roommate; we make dinner for each other when the other is not home yet. He was just calling to see if I was going to be home, not that I have to explain any of this to you.” I grab the handle of the door and open it. Before leaving I look back at him, his hand is to his face and his eyes sorrowful. “This wasn’t what I wanted, you were the one who pushed me, so don’t blame me for your inability to get your head out of your ass and swim. It’s not my damn fault.”
