Page 48 of Black Sheep
Oh God.
I didn’t expect his penis to be just as beautiful as every other part of him, but I probably should have.
It’s got girth and is well-formed—long and thick and just slightly curved toward his belly. The head takes on a dusky reddish-purple hue, and a little pearl-sized drop of clear fluid drips from the end.
I can’t help it. I lap it up, loving the salty flavor.
Cannon shoves his pants down further and groans. “Fuck. God. Yes.”
I wrap my palm around him and squeeze, milking more from him to lap up like it’s my prize. He widens his knees and lifts upward, bringing his cock to my mouth, and slides it against my lips. “Can you take me?”
I reach out and tap the head with my tongue. “I can try.”
And with that, he pushes forward, his cock tunneling between my lips, and I take him halfway, sucking hard as he pulls back.
“Jesus. I need to fuck your face.”
My thighs squeeze together, and I nod. “I want that too.”
He lifts up and powers into my mouth. I take him deeper and easier with each stroke, and Cannon’s face contorts with pleasure.
“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”
He’s fighting the urge to come, and selfishly, I want to push him over the edge, into the oblivion that I couldn’t resist when he was stealing my control.
Finally, he tries to pull away, but I move forward, sucking him deeper. He finds my hand, squeezing it tight as he throws his head back and roars. His cock pulses in my mouth and I swallow eagerly, proud that I could take him to the same place he took me.
The next time he attempts to move, I release my hold on him and his cock slides out of my mouth. Cannon tucks himself back into his pants before pulling me up his body so my head lies on his chest, listening as his heart pounds like a jackhammer.
“Jesus fuck. I didn’t expect that. Didn’t—”
“Shut up and enjoy the afterglow,” I tell him as I press a kiss to his stubbled jaw.
* * *
I toldmyself I wasn’t going to do it. I told myself not to take the risk. Shockingly, I lied.
As soon as Cannon’s breathing turns even in the living room, I slip out of the bed he insisted that I take for myself and silently creep across his apartment.
Sounds from the city invade—sirens, horns, car alarms, yelling—and I’m thankful for all of them because I’m hoping they hide my movements.
As I slip into Cannon’s office, I tell myself that the keystroke logger is going to prove him innocent, and not give me more information to make my case.
This could save him.
But my guilt still rages.
I can’t help but ask myself—why now?After all of the people I’ve become to get the stories I broke for the world and the justice that followed, why am I now developing such an overbearing conscience?
I slip the flash drive into the port on the side of his laptop and wait the thirty seconds it takes for the software to do its job. When it’s done, I pull it out again and tiptoe through the living room, praying I can get back to the bedroom without him knowing. As soon as I hit the doorway, it’s obvious no one is answering my prayers tonight.
A light flips on in the kitchen area, coming from the fridge. I spin around to face it and freeze.
Cannon stands there, a bottle of water tipped toward his lips, staring at me. He lowers the bottle, his gaze sweeping from the top of my mussed hair to the toes of my bare feet—and every naked inch in between.
“You walk around my apartment like that in the middle of the night, and I’m going to take it as an invitation to come put you back to bed and stay there with you.”
There is literally nothing I’d prefer more at this moment, even with the flash drive clutched tightly in my hand.
