Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 97417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
“Not what I expected,” Fitch said, smacking his lips.
“What does that mean?”
“I don’t know. It’s kind of fruity.” He licked Ansel like a lollipop.
“Shit.”
Fitch chuckled. “You’re impatient.”
“Yes. Yes, I fucking am. And you are a cruel bastard.”
There was that hum again. Fitch licked his shaft from balls to slit. At the same time, Fitch pushed Ansel’s knees wider and adjusted position between them. Finally settled, Fitch took a firm grasp on the length and met his eyes before sucking on the head.
A string of curses came pouring out of Ansel’s mouth. His abs tensed as his hips came off the bed, but he never looked away. Not when Fitch palmed his balls, not when he swirled his tongue around the head. Not even when he started fisting the base in rhythm with his mouth.
Ansel wanted to remember every fucking moment of this night because he was pretty damn certain it would be the best night of his life.
Chapter Thirteen
Fitch could get used to cock-sucking if it meant listening to Ansel’s chorus of sex noises while he did it. He knew he was being clumsy, and his grip was probably too rough. He didn’t have nice smooth hands like Ansel—his were calloused and scarred from work. But the way he panted, Fitch must be doing something right. He peeked up to get a good look at Ansel’s flushed cheeks and parted lips. Ansel’s hands fisted the sheets on either side of his hips, eyes locked on his. Then, Ansel’s tongue swept out to wet his bottom lip.
It was hard to deny the urge to split himself down the middle so one half could continue feasting on cock while the other kissed those incredibly tempting lips. Hell, while he was at it, he might as well separate into three because his dick wanted in on the action too. It was twitching like mad between his legs. Rather than distracting, the pleasure only drove him harder. He redoubled his efforts, moving his fist over Ansel’s slicked shaft and following the movement with his mouth and tongue the way so many women had done for him. Who knew he’d soaked up so much knowledge about giving head?
Ansel’s guttural groan came just before a full-body tremble.
“I’m gonna come.”
Fitch only had a second to react. He pulled back enough for the first jet to hit him on the chin.
“Oh fuck, oh fuck.” Ansel’s body trembled as he painted his own stomach.
Ansel’s load dripping down his face, Fitch tried to catch his breath, waiting for some kind of revulsion to swamp him, but it never came. Yes, he was shaking, partly from nerves but mostly from excitement. Watching Ansel come was better than any porno Fitch had ever seen, and the only thing on his mind was how quickly he could make it happen again.
When the trembles stopped, Ansel blew out a breath and collapsed backward on the bed, with a breathy, “Goddamn.”
Fitch smiled, filled with a kind of terrifying reverence for the man—for the act. He hadn’t expected to enjoy giving head. But he had.
It was weird, sure. But also fucking awesome.
Fitch wiped some of the spunk off his chin with a finger and tested it with his tongue. With a little practice, he could probably work up to swallowing a load.
“I don’t think I can move. You’re going to have to fuck me like this because I’m dead.”
Fitch chuckled and maneuvered so he could spread out next to him. “I did okay, then?” It was a rhetorical question. It was pretty fucking obvious Ansel had enjoyed himself. He turned his head so he could watch Ansel’s profile in the glow of the streetlight.
The corners of his lipstick-smudged mouth tipped up just a little. “Yeah, it was good. You know, for your first time.” He rolled to his side to face Fitch. “You’ll get better with some proper training.”
Fitch altered his voice to imitate Ansel. “Oh fuck, oh fuck. Jesus Christ. Holy fuuuuck.”
Ansel laughed and punched him in the shoulder. “I did not sound like that.”
“Okay, if you insist. Whatever you sounded like, it was lewd. I loved every note.”
Ansel’s smile turned sultry and he blinked in a feminine way. “Why, Mr. Donovan, you say the sweetest things.”
“My mother taught me to be a gentleman, what can I say?”
Ansel traced a finger through the hair on Fitch’s chest, around one nipple and then the other. “You could say you’re ready for the next round.”
Fitch grabbed Ansel’s hand where he’d been brushing his fingers over his heart. With a single move, he rolled until Ansel was flat on his back and Fitch was leaning over him. “I was born ready,” he rumbled with a flex of his hips, his erection prodding Ansel’s thigh. “I’ve just been waiting for you.”
Ansel parted his lips on a gasp. “Impressive.”
He leaned down, but just before their lips touched, he whispered, “I aim to please.”