With This Fling (Summersweet Island 5)

When there was a small accident with one of the dolls earlier that resulted in Dean being sprayed with chocolate pudding, I told him he could grab one of the extra Dip and Twist T-shirts from a box in my dining room. It was a shipment that just arrived yesterday of shirts for my employees, and I knew there were a few extra-larges in the box. It’s just a simple white T-shirt with the stand logo on it, but he really does look good wearing it. He looks like he belongs here. He looks like he’s getting ready to head up to the stand to help me work. Like this morning, when he was grabbing the items I needed to make that hot fudge sundae, making my life easier, helping me out without me even asking, and making everything better just by being there.

This is just a fling. This is just a fling.

“What are you doing there, sugar?”

Dean’s voice is filled with a teasing lilt, but his fingers dig into the sides of my hips as he grips them tighter. His eyes darken as soon as I yank his zipper down, already feeling the bulge thickening behind it.

“Just thought I’d thank you properly for everything you did today,” I tell him, pushing up on my toes, pressing my lips to his as I slide my hand into the waistband of his boxer briefs, and wrapping my hand around his cock.

Dean groans against my mouth as I pump my hand up and down his shaft, feeling him thicken in my palm, his cock getting harder, and my entire body starting to thrum with the need to make him feel good.

As I pull my mouth away from his and my hand out of his boxers, Dean lets out a little grunt of protest when I move. Until I quickly drop to my knees in front of him with the sink at my back, tugging his jeans and boxers down his hips just far enough for his cock to spring free.

“You don’t have to—”

“Hush,” I cut him off. “I want to… but hold that thought, and don’t move!”

Quickly grabbing onto the edge of the sink to haul myself back up, my knees groan in protest as I stand. I can’t help but laugh when Dean looks at me like I just killed his dog, as I quickly fling open the bathroom door and race out into my living room. Grabbing one of the throw pillows off my couch, I scurry back into the bathroom, close the door behind me, and toss the pillow onto the floor by Dean’s feet.

As much as I didn’t want to kill the mood, I’d like to be able to walk again after this blow job, thank you very much.

“Sorry about that,” I mutter, sinking back down to my knees on the soft cushion of a pillow this time instead of hard tile. “Ahhh, much better. Where were we? Oh yeah… hands on the counter, ass in the air, sweetheart.”

Dean quirks an eyebrow down at me with a grin when I say the same thing he said to me in the office, adding in the sweetheart part just to make him smile more, until I wrap my hand around the base of his cock.

His smile drops away with a hitch of his breath, and he finally complies with my order, smacking his hands down on the bathroom counter right above my head with a curse, when I take my time, flattening my tongue and licking my way up the underside of his shaft.

“Fucking hell, Laura,” Dean groans, the guttural, needy sound in his voice turning me on.

“You better hold on tight,” I warn him with a cheeky smile before wrapping my lips around the head of his cock and sucking hard.

“Oh, fuck,” Dean grunts, his hand hitting the counter again with a smack.

With my hand still wrapped around the base of his shaft, I lower my mouth on him, taking him as deep as I can, while curses fly out of him. His fist hits the counter this time with a loud thump that rattles the floor under my pillow-protected knees, when I pull my mouth back, sucking and swirling my tongue around him as I go. I revel in the salty taste of him, the feel of him pulsing against my tongue, his hips jerking slightly, like it’s taking everything inside him not to just thrust right into my mouth.

Blow jobs have always felt like a chore to me. Reciprocation because it felt like the polite thing to do. Random thoughts flying through my head during the act, like wondering if I remembered to shut off my curling iron, reminding myself to add peanut butter to the grocery list, and wondering how much longer this is going to take, because my stomach is growling and I need food.

But this is Dean, and nothing about this feels like a job or a chore. The only thoughts going through my head right now are that I want to make him feel good. I want him to know I appreciate everything he did for me, and not just today but every day he’s been here. I want to hear, and feel, and see him lose control because of me.

By the time I’ve slid my mouth up and down his shaft a few times, sucking and swiping my tongue over the head of his cock with each pass, with my hand working in tandem up and down his length, I’m wet. Without the need for lube, without the need for an hour of watching porn, I’m wet, just from bringing this man pleasure. The sounds he’s making, the way he tastes and smells, my name panting out of his mouth every time I take him to the back of my throat, and the way he gently brushes my hair out of my eyes and tucks it behind my ear with the tips of his fingers with one hand, while his other hand is gripping the counter so hard I’m surprised he doesn’t pull it right out of the wall. It’s all so hot that I can’t handle it, and I moan around his cock.

“Touch yourself.” Dean growls out the order, and my pussy clenches with need. I glance up at him while my head bobs on his shaft, and the look on his face is full of begging and pleading, like he can’t fully appreciate this unless I’m getting pleasure out of it too.

I don’t even hesitate. With one hand wrapped around his cock as my mouth works him over, I slide my other hand right down the front of my jean shorts, needing this relief as much as he does. I moan around his cock again when my fingers touch my slick flesh, and any control Dean was holding onto completely leaves his body while he watches me.

His hips start moving with slow, steady thrusts as he moves one of his hands to the back of my head, while my own hand works quickly between my thighs. It’s all too much and feels too good, looking up at Dean while I suck his cock and having him watch me take him in my mouth while I pleasure myself.

I suck him harder and faster, my hand shuttling up and down his length easily from the wetness of my mouth, with my fingers working just as fast between my thighs, swirling around my clit, my entire body tingling with the need for release.

“Oh, fuck… oh, fucking hell,” Dean mutters, his fingers curling into my scalp until he’s clutching a handful of hair, helping me move along his cock, the sting of it turning me on even more as my own hips start thrusting against my hand.

He warns me he’s going to come and tries to pull back, but I don’t let him. I suck him harder, move my hand up and down his shaft faster, my fingers sliding easily over my clit, until I feel him pulsing against my tongue with his release.

“Jesus… Christ, Laura.”

Watching this man orgasm is now my new favorite thing I never knew I needed in my life. The muscles in his arms bulging and tightening with the firm grip he has on the edge of the counter, head bowed, brow furrowed, with his eyes locked right on mine and my name choking out of his mouth with the intensity of it all. It ignites my own release.

Dean pants my name while he fucks into my mouth, and I moan around his cock again, my own orgasm washing over me so quickly that my entire body shakes from it while I swallow him down my throat.