Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 83216 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83216 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
I took a chance and unzipped his jacket and unbuttoned his shirt while I nipped at his lips. We fumbled with our clothing to get a few layers out of the way. I had no intention of doing anything wild and crazy, but it felt so nice to touch him. I undid his belt and fly, and stroked him through his cotton briefs.
“Where’s that lace thong? Am I gonna see that again?” I purred, rubbing precum over his slit with the pad of my thumb.
Lo bit his lip and blinked. “I don’t wear them to work. Too itchy. Should we…be doing this?”
I lowered his briefs over his shaft, stroking him from base to tip. “Doing what?”
“Pierce.”
Fuck, I loved the way he said my name when he was blissed out. Sometimes I thought I could get off on the sounds he made alone. I licked his throat and squeezed his cock, milking precum from his slit, then jacking him…slow and steady.
I ignored the insistent pulse behind my zipper. Raul wouldn’t disturb us unless something urgent came up, and he’d use the intercom first. But honestly, I didn’t have an agenda here. I just wanted to touch him.
Lo responded as if we shared some kind of symbiotic consciousness. How else would I have known how much he loved it when I massaged the soft skin under his ball sac or that he’d lose his mind if I rubbed my thumb along his crease?
Okay, those were probably things that would make most guys bone up. Maybe the difference was that I was actively paying attention to his every inhale and exhale. I was invested in his pleasure in a way I’d never been with another partner—male or female. I’d always figured orgasm was the name of the game, but with him…I knew there was more.
Laughing in the dark in between deep kisses and firm strokes…this was nice. But tasting him would be better.
I bent over his crotch, breathing his scent and gliding my tongue up one side of his shaft and down the other. Somewhere in the sensual haze, I was aware of the engine purring under us, stopping at traffic lights, and revving to life again. But I was busy. I bobbed my head, loving the feel of his fingers in my hair and his incoherent mumbling above me.
I spread his precum over my bottom lip like a balm and licked it off.
“Mmm. You taste so good,” I hummed in a gravelly voice.
“You should—you should stop.”
“Not till you come. Do it,” I commanded, bending over his lap to slide a single digit over his hole as I opened my mouth wide.
Lo tensed and trembled under me, then came apart. I swallowed what I could and sat up, wiping my chin before sealing my mouth over his.
He broke for air with a gasp. “Oh, my God. That was—”
“Fucking hot,” I supplied.
“Yeah.” He let out a half laugh as he reached for my belt buckle.
I set my hand over his and shook my head. “No, it’s okay.”
He frowned, pressing his palm against my length. “But…don’t you want me to…? You’re hard.”
That was a fucking understatement, but the scent of fast food and the slower speed indicated we were almost at the lookout point.
“Later.” I kissed his knuckles and leaned over to help him redress. “I’m giving you another kind of hot dog for now.”
“Worst line ever,” Lo chided, batting my hand away.
His crinkly eyes and radiant grin made me think he didn’t mind a little corniness. I reached under the seat in front of me and grabbed two throw blankets.
“C’mon. It’s a clear night, a beautiful view, and I promised you a fat, juicy wiener with—”
Lorenzo covered my mouth and fixed me a faux-serious look. “Don’t say another word.”
I bit the meaty part of his palm, kissed it, and made a zipped-lips motion. When the SUV came to a stop at the top of the ridge, I opened the door and gestured for him to follow me.
We sat on a blanket under a tree on the grassy knoll overlooking the city. This was a popular tourist destination, but the February chill wasn’t conducive to lingering on a hilltop. The stragglers who wandered to take photos of the cityscape didn’t look our way. It felt so nice to be part of the crowd and feel completely anonymous with someone who didn’t want to discuss my last movie or the next one.
We ate hot dogs—well, I devoured mine, Lo nibbled his—and just…hung out. We talked about chili fries, gourmet aioli sauces, our favorite foods to grill, songs that reminded us of LA.…In other words, a whole lot of nothing that somehow felt crucial.
He laughed his ass off when I sang a pitchy version of Katy Perry’s “California Gurls” and draped the second blanket over our shoulders to ward against the evening chill. His nearness, his voice, his dazzling smile, and easy company.