After (After 1)

“Of course I have. Not a real one, but pictures, and I once walked in on the neighbor watching a naughty movie,” I tell him and he stifles a laugh. “Stop laughing at me, Hardin,” I warn him.

“I’m not, baby, I’m sorry. It’s just I have never met anyone who has such little experience. It’s a good thing, though, I swear. Sometimes your innocence just throws me off a bit. But with that being said, it’s a huge turn-on that I am the only one who has ever made you come, yourself included.” He doesn’t laugh this time, which makes me feel better.

“Okay . . . so let’s get started.”

He smiles and runs his thumb along my cheek. “So sassy, I like it,” he says and stands up.

“Where are you going?” I ask him and he smiles.

“Nowhere, I am just taking my pants off.”

“I wanted to do that,” I say with a pout and he chuckles and tugs his pants back up.

“Here ya go, babe.” He puts his hands on his hips.

I smile and move forward, pulling his pants down. Should I pull down his boxers, too? Hardin takes a step back and puts his heels against his bed before sitting down. I drop to my knees in front of him and he takes a deep breath.

“Come closer, babe.”

I scoot closer and place my hands on his bent knees.

“Are you okay?” he asks carefully.

I nod and he pulls me up by my elbows.

“Let’s just kiss for a minute, okay?” he suggests and pulls me on top of him.

I have to admit I’m relieved. I still want to do this, I just need a minute to process, and kissing will make me more comfortable. He kisses me, slowly at first, but within seconds the electricity builds and takes over me. I grip his arms hard under my fingertips and rock back and forth on his lap. The bulge in his thin boxers grows and I tug gently on his hair. I wish I would have worn a skirt so I could lift it up and feel him against me . . . I’m shocked by my own thoughts as I reach down and palm him through his boxers.

“Fuck, Tessa. If you keep doing that, I will come in my boxers again,” he moans and I stop, climbing off him. I move to get on my knees again.

“Take your jeans off,” he instructs, and I nod before unbuttoning them and sliding them down my legs. Feeling brave, I pull my shirt over my head and toss it aside. Hardin takes his lip between his teeth as I move back down in front of him. My fingers grip the waistband of his boxers and tug as he lifts off the bed enough for me to pull them down.

I can feel my eyes widen and hear my own gasp as Hardin’s manhood comes into view. Wow, it’s big. Much bigger than I expected. How am I going to even get it into my mouth?

I stare for a few seconds until I reach out and touch it with my index finger. Hardin chuckles as it moves slightly but bounces right back.

“How . . . I mean . . . what should I do first?” I stutter. I am intimidated by the size of him, but I want to do this.

“I’ll show you. Here . . . wrap your fingers like last time . . .”

My fingers go around him and I wiggle them a little. The skin covering him is much softer than I expected. I know I’m poking it and examining it like a science project, but this is so new to me, it almost feels like one.

I grip it lightly and move my hand up and down slowly. “Like this?” I ask, and Hardin nods, his chest rising and falling.

“Now . . . just put your mouth around it. Not all of it, well, if you can . . . but just put as much as you can.”

I take a deep breath and lean down. Opening my mouth, I take him in, only about halfway. He hisses and his hands move to my shoulders. I pull back slightly and taste something salty. Is that come already? The taste goes away and I move my head up and down. Some instinct that I wasn’t aware of tells me to move my tongue up and down his shaft as I move.

“Holy fuck. Yeah, like that,” Hardin groans and I repeat the action. His grip on my shoulders tightens, and his hips rock upward to meet my mouth. I push myself farther, taking almost all of him in, and look up at him. His eyes are rolled to the back of his head and he looks heavenly. The lean muscle underneath his tattooed skin is pulling, making the script across his ribs move slowly. I turn my focus back to sucking and move a little faster.

“Use your hand on . . . on the rest . . .” he gasps and I oblige. My hand moves up and down on the bottom of him as my mouth works the top. I suck my cheeks in and he groans again.

“Fuck . . . fuck. Tessa. I am . . . I am so close,” he says, straining. “If you don’t want it in your mouth . . . then . . . you . . . have to stop.”

I look up at him, keeping him in my mouth. I love the way he is losing control because of me.

“Shit . . . keep looking . . . at me.” His body tenses as he watches me. I bat my eyelashes, giving the full effect. Hardin curses my name repeatedly, beautifully, and I feel a slight jerk in my mouth and a warm, salty liquid shoots down my throat in short spurts. I gag and pull back. It didn’t taste as bad as I thought it would, but it definitely doesn’t taste good. His hands move from my shoulders to my cheeks.

He’s out of breath and dazed. “How . . . was it?”

I climb off my knees and sit next to him on the bed. His arms wrap around me and he lays his head on my shoulder. “I thought it was nice,” I say, and he laughs.

“Nice?”

“It was fun, sort of. To see you that way. And it didn’t taste as bad as I thought,” I confess. I should be embarrassed that I just admitted to liking it, but I’m not. “How was it for you?” I ask nervously.

“I was so very pleasantly surprised—the best head I have ever gotten.”