I trust him.
I realize that’s the difference. I’ve always been nervous around guys, afraid of saying or doing the wrong thing. You would have thought that, with Chase, I would be even more nervous. But from the beginning, there was something about him that just seemed familiar, like I could be myself and he would be okay with that. Maybe him being off-limits and so far out of my league took the pressure off.
I take him deeper into my mouth, and he moans louder, longer.
That’s the way I learn to give my first blow job, by gauging his moans. I experiment, alternate rhythms, pressure, licking, stroking, and sucking. And he’s not the only one who likes it. Getting him excited gets me excited. Pleasuring him is hot—tasting him, that feeling of power that this magnificent man is at my mercy and nearly mad with desire. That I can take him higher and higher until he gives it all to me.
I’m addicted to his taste and the sounds he’s making as I take him into my mouth in a deep, wet, sucking rhythm. He attempts to pull me off him with a gentle tug and a warning. “Olivia, I’m going to—”
I’ve read enough books, heard enough talk about spitting or swallowing, and I want every last bit of him. I want to stay with him till the end.
When he comes with a curse, I swallow it like a good girl. When he finally settles, he pulls me up to kiss the top of my head and tucks me into that perfect crook between his arm and chest. And all I can think is, God, who knew I’d enjoy giving blow jobs this much?
I’m tempted to ask him if this means we won’t make love. I’m not exactly up on male anatomy, but I’ve read enough to suspect that it will take a while to do that again. At least for him. For me, all my parts are awake and alert. My nipples are still pebbles, something he discovers as he palms them.
“I love your tits,” he says, leaning down and taking one nipple into his mouth. I moan his name. He lavishes his attention on the next one, his hand roaming downward.
“Are you? Can we—” I ask.
“Shh, this is for you,” he says. He plays with me in a way that has me gasping. “Tell me what you want.”
When I don’t say anything, he grows more insistent.
“Tell me,” he repeats in a demanding tone that works for me.
But still, I’m embarrassed. I don’t know how to talk dirty.
“It’s part of your education,” he says in a more amused tone.
I snort. “What? Are you some sort of professor of sex?”
He does something particularly amazing with his fingers and, at the same time, slaps my ass lightly, and I moan and almost come.
“Okay, maybe you are,” I admit to him. “Do that again,” I practically beg, panting.
“This?” he asks. “Or this?” he teases, repeating them both.
“Any of it. All of it.” I’m past talking, past thinking. All I can do is feel and let him do what he wants.
Thankfully, he takes orders better than I do because he does all of it to me and more, and soon, I’m splitting apart in the second most intense orgasm I’ve ever had in my life.
I might have blacked out.
He cuddles me back into the crook of his arm. It’s the best place ever to rest my head. I’ve never been so content. It’s scary, this feeling, because I know that this is all just temporary, and now that I know how good it is, how will I ever go without? And I’m not just talking about the mind-blowing sexy time. I mean the rest of it. The soft kisses, the crook, the cuddling.
And then I wonder if he cuddles with the other girls. I push that thought aside and concentrate on how good it feels to be in his arms. His cock is hard against me.
I want him so badly. Will he finally take me? I thought we’d have sex by now, but though I’ve had two more firsts, he hasn’t taken my virginity. That needy place between my legs wonders.
He starts kissing down my body, whispering kisses along every inch of me, all the way down. I want to ask him, but I lose my train of thought when his talented tongue licks me.
I’m breathless and shaking. And that’s the last thinking I do for a long while.
CHAPTER 33
Chase
I wake at dawn, when light is at its softest, bathing Olivia in a muted glow of delicate pinks and purples.
Her eyes open, and she smiles at me, groggy.
“Hello.”
I smile back.
“Hi.” I dive in for a kiss.
She squeaks and puts a hand up to her face. “I haven’t brushed my teeth.”
I roll my eyes. “That’s what you’re worried about?”