Balling fists of sheet, she screamed, existing on the knife’s point of release. He sent two curled fingers into her, found her pleasure on the first attempt, and stroked, coaxing a leveling earthquake from her core.
Climax ripped her open, erasing relief tearing from center to extremities. A waterfall gushed from her, and she writhed, groaning, lost to bliss, out of her mind.
Finally, the pulses slowed to aftershocks, and Helen fell limp on the bed, gasping and seeing stars. Brian let up on the sucking, withdrew his hand, and lapped her opening like her fluids were nectar of the gods.
“Thank you.” She petted his hair.
“My pleasure.” He rose, returned to kneel between her legs, and wiped his mouth. Winked. She gave him a big smile. So dirty-cute and naughty-nice. The man wielded his contradictions with adroit mastery.
Helen stole a look between Brian’s legs. Her brows widened. His cock stood at proud alert, fully hard and curved, an impressive length reaching his belly button. A thick silver hoop pierced the head of his penis, looping through his urethra. She slid his adornment in a circle, finding the chunk of metal warm. “I like. Did getting pierced here hurt?”
“Oh, probably.” He grunted, eyelids fluttering as she played with the intimate jewelry. “I wasn’t exactly in a sound state of mind at the time.”
Brian was an official secret badass. A milky bead of fluid bubbled from his opening, and she slicked the moisture across the smooth flesh of his crown.
Relief from her orgasm ebbed as she anticipated the feel of him inside of her, how the piercing would stimulate. Helen ran her hand up and down Brian’s shaft.
“Did, uh.” A broken, hoarse cry interrupted his speech. His cock jerked, the tip darkening. A blue vein pulsed on the side. “Did you bring a condom?”
Oops. She’d subconsciously assumed he had protection covered. Helen pumped her lightly curled hand up and down his length, keeping him primed. “No. I take it you didn’t either?”
“No. Like I said, I’m not all that active sexually.” He bit his lip, stomach muscles clenching. “I wouldn’t last anyway…fuck. Don’t stop touching me. Please. Ah, I’m sorry.”
Dirty decadence made a fleeting vixen out of Helen. She’d brought Brian Shepherd close to unraveling with a few rubs. No point in pretending to deny the high of that drug. “You’re almost there, huh?”
She jacked faster, studying his expression. Eyes hooded, mouth open, breath choppy—he without a doubt sailed to the precipice.
“Can I finish on your breasts?” His request rushed out in a hungry slew of gasping syllables.
Depended on whether he could still banter. “Can I give you a prostate massage?”
“Love, right now I’d agree to let you give me a root canal without anesthetic.”
She chuckled. “Stellar comeback. Get on up here, the dentist is in.”
Brian moved to kneel at Helen’s chest. She did quick little up and down motions right beneath the ridge of his crown, drinking in the sight of his face drawn in a pained cast of pre-orgasmic desperation.
The tightness pinching his features crumbled into relief, dazed and awestruck, his gaze landing on her naked chest. “Oh my God.”
Already rigid manhood swelled to impossible stiffness in her grip. A deep groan erupted from Brian, blissful and long to accompany the white streams shooting from him. Three thick ropes splashed her breasts with liquid warmth while he moaned through the finish, thighs and abs clenching and releasing.
When he was done, Brian hunched forward, catching his breath in big pants and rubbing his stomach.
“I hope you’re still speaking to me after I embarrassed myself like I did.” A trace of worry underpinned contentment. Smiling sheepishly, he stripped a pillow and wiped Helen clean with the case.
She patted his leg above the knee. “We don’t have to put that narrative around it. Instead, how about we say that my dry hand jobs are the stuff of legends.”
Brian threw the pillowcase to the floor and reclined to lay beside her, bringing them face to face. He brushed hair from her eyes and kissed her lips and cheek. Sweet and unhurried kisses, for lust had been sated. There was no hurry anymore. “No doubt about it.”
A rumble sharper than thunder sliced silence beyond the window.
“Look.” Brian pointed to the glass, pulling Helen to rest in the crook under his arm.
She laid a hand over his thudding heartbeat, her gaze skating across the rising and falling plateau of his tattooed chest as she snuggled into his warmth.
A light show of city buildings dusted ebony skies. In the elevated blackness, above domes and skyscrapers, red taillights blinked. She kissed his pectoral muscle, breathing in the rich scent of his post-coital satisfaction. “An airplane, yes. I’m literally from flyover country. I’ve seen them overhead.”
“Ah, but have you flown in one complete with leather seats, your choice of drinks, and a private bedroom in the back?” He murmured the words into her hair, lazily palming the side of one nude breast. “Throw in a catered meal, and Fanny’s your aunt.”
She laughed, not with complete lightness as she retreated from his subtle advance. His question danced too close to fanciful ideas of a happy future. “What do you think?”
“I have a jet. Hardly ever use the plane, but I’d like to again. I could fly you out to visit me and then we could set off to, I don’t know, Hawaii. Or Aspen, if you’d prefer to ski. And you, my dear, would look criminally cute in snow pants and big clunky goggles.” He nibbled her earlobe.
Tight pain coiled through Helen’s torso. He was teasing her into believing he had feelings for her. She could not let herself think a chance existed. They’d discussed this issue. Brian had no right to mess with her like this.
“You don’t have to flaunt your wealth to impress me. And I couldn’t accept a big gift like that.” Her response came out snappier than she intended.
