He hums, then moves his mouth downward while grabbing my ass cheeks with his big hands. He sinks his fingertips into my backside at the same time he presses a hot, open-mouthed kiss to the cloth-covered skin at the apex of my thighs.
I watch him with wide eyes as he looks up at me from below, the colors of his irises swallowed up by the black of his pupils, and everything inside me clenches. I’ve never seen anything as sexy as Jesse Hernandez on his knees for me. My sleep shorts are soaked, the tops of my thighs, warm and sticky, and I’m terrified the evidence of my desire will drip down my legs if I move.
“Pubis?” I whisper, but there’s no hiding the raw need in my voice.
Jesse presses his face into my skin and groans.
“Fuck,” he says, then uses his hands to widen my stance, pressing his face farther between my thighs. “Fuck, you smell so good.”
I tense and flush with embarrassment, but he puts his mouth on my clit and laves his tongue over it, and my brain shuts down everything except my most basic, primal thoughts. Jesse’s tongue moves up and down the thin cotton barrier creating the strangest, most deliciously rough friction.
“Oh god,” I gasp, and he bites down on my clit. “Oh god,” I cry again. Jesse tugs my shorts down my thighs and lets them drop, then grabs one of my calves and maneuvers my leg so it’s draped over his shoulder. I wobble and tighten my grip in Jesse’s hair. I feel unstable standing on just one leg, but when Jesse puts his mouth on me again, my body bows then stretches until I have to brace one of my hands on the kitchen table behind me and root the other firmly in his ebony curls.
His mouth against my bare skin, with no barriers, is almost unbearable. The sensations are slick and hot and electric. My entire body is at his mercy. When he hums against me, I can feel it all the way in my nipples, which are achingly stiff against my tank top. When he sucks hard on my clit, my throat clenches, and my vision goes white.
And the hottest part of it all? The sounds coming from him. I’ve never heard such sounds. Every grunt and groan and hum is enthusiastically and erotically carnal.
Animalistic. Intoxicating.
He laps at me with his tongue, sucks with his lips, and kneads my ass with his strong hands, and all I can do is grip his hair and the table and try to control the shock waves jolting through me. When I come, it’s with a strangled, silent cry, and my whole body locks up. Stiff as a board one minute, wobbly like cooked pasta the next.
I collapse onto the table behind me and cover my face with my arm while I work to catch my breath and adjust to the world’s new tilt. It’s not until Jesse chuckles that I open my eyes. His face is glistening with my arousal, and he makes a show of licking his lips.
“Tastes even better than I imagined,” he says, then sticks his hand out for me to grab. I bat it away, and he lets out a laugh.
I groan and push myself up on my elbows. My tank top is hiked up over one of my breasts, and everything below is completely bare, but my head is too fuzzy to feel self-conscious. The man just had his tongue shoved so far into my body that he probably tasted my cervix, so the time for being shy is over. At least for now.
I look at him—hair mussed, lips swollen—and I’m hit with a feeling of elation. This gorgeous, brilliant man dropped to his knees for me. I’m not ready for this feeling to end.
Slowly, I sit up and then climb off the table. I take a few steps toward Jesse, his eyes tracking my every move. When I start to kneel, he stops me with a hand on my biceps.
“You don’t want this?” I ask, and my voice cracks slightly. He kisses my lips.
“I do.” He moves my hand to his erection to prove his point. “I do want it. But you’re not gonna suck me off as repayment for the orgasm I just gave you. I went down on you because I wanted to—because I needed to—and I don’t expect anything in return.”
I smirk in an effort to hide the way my heart squeezes at his words.
“Noted,” I whisper, and then I kneel.
I slide my palms up his thighs, reveling in the heated look on his face. I’m not confident in much regarding bedroom activities, but I know how to give a damn good blow job, and yeah, I realize how messed up that is.
I crook my fingers into the waistband of Jesse’s basketball shorts and drag them down his legs, purposely leaving his underwear on. I don’t break eye contact when I slide my open palms back up his muscular legs, but when I graze over the erection straining his boxer briefs, my eyes widen and drop involuntarily.
I must look comical, gaping at Jesse’s giant hard-on, because he chuckles, then threads his fingers in my hair and tugs my head back, so I’m once again looking up at him.
“C’mon, Classic,” he says playfully. “I’m 6’4” and boast an insufferable amount of swagger. You had to know I’d have a monster cock.”
The laugh that bursts from me is so loud that I slap my hand over my mouth, and it takes a minute before I can tame my giggles.
“You are so full of yourself, aren’t you?” I tease, and his smile drops away.
“I’d rather you be full of me.”
Now it’s my turn to smirk. I tug on his boxer briefs and free his erection, then grip and pump it a few times. He hisses, and my toes curl from the sound. I keep my eyes on his as I lick him from base to tip, swirl my tongue around the head, then massage the sensitive skin under the ridge. I break eye contact when I take him into my throat, because swallowing around him takes some concentration.
I know you’re not supposed to think about your ex when you’re sexing up someone else, but Patrick is nowhere near this big, so all of my tricks have to be altered and tweaked. I pay attention to Jesse’s body language. I take note of what makes him moan and tighten his grip in my hair. I’ve never been so turned on from giving a blow job. When he whispers yes and fuck and just like that, I know without a shadow of a doubt that my memory will be replaying those sounds long after the summer ends.
I’ll revisit these memories when I’m alone and lonely, but just knowing that for once I’ll be reminiscing actual experiences instead of baseless hopes or fantasies fills me with a spark of excitement. I might not get to keep Jesse Hernandez forever, but I have him now, and I’ll never forget the privilege.
“Your test is tomorrow?”Jesse asks later, and I nod.
We’re snuggled up on the living room floor under a blanket because, after coming down my throat, Jesse claimed his legs wouldn’t work.
“You want to celebrate after?”
I shake my head no. “I actually have an appointment with a tattoo artist.”
“Sexy,” he purrs into my hair, and I laugh. “Rib tat?” I’m momentarily taken aback before I remember that he has my list memorized.
“Yeah.” As I speak, I drag my fingers up and down the strong forearm that’s wrapped around me. “I always wanted one, but Patrick didn’t like them, so I never got one.”
“I’m glad you’re doing it. What’s it gonna be?”
I grin and press a kiss to his chest. “Secret.”
He chuckles, and we sit in a comfortable silence for a bit. My eyes are drifting closed when he speaks.
“Classic, what happened to June?” His voice is a whisper, but I can still hear the emotion in it. The concern. He’s not just asking because he’s curious. He’s asking because he cares.
“ATV accident,” I say, then take a deep breath. “It was my fault.”
I turn my face, so it’s resting on Jesse’s chest. I breathe him in, and he rubs his hand up and down my back. I focus on that motion, on his touch, when I start talking again.
“We were with a bunch of Patrick’s friends, and they’d all been drinking and riding these ATV trails that one of the guys put all around his property. He owns a farm and a bunch of land just south of here. One of the guys had taken June out on the trails earlier in the day, but that was before they started drinking. I told Patrick, I told all of them, the moment they cracked open the first beer that the kids weren’t to set even a finger on any of those ATVs.”
The familiar anger creeps up like bile burning my throat, and I clamp my eyes shut and breathe through my nose. My eyes sting with regret anyway.
“When Patrick drinks, he gets stupid, and sometimes, he gets mean. But you never really knew when he would get mean, you know? Sometimes he was sweet and fun, and other times, he’d get ruthless. It was like playing Russian Roulette every time he drank.”