I grit my teeth and let my head fall back against the seat, my hands running through her hair. She swirls her tongue around the base and underside of my cock, an expert at this, I already know. Last time she went down on me, the only time so far, it took every ounce of self control I had to stop her in the middle of sucking my cock hungrily down her throat. Because I knew I had to save myself, knew I had to come inside her, not anywhere else.
Today, though?
Today, she's not ovulating. Today, it's just us and our oblivious distant audience in this dark movie theater. Today, I don't have to save myself.
Which is good, because it would take a fuck-ton of self control to stop her now. She slides me deeper into her mouth, that sexy little tongue of hers still tracing the underside of my shaft, edging along the crease there, all while her lips contract around me and her fingers slip between my legs to cup my balls, roll them between her thumbs and forefinger. I run my hands through her hair and clench my fists through it, pulling her closer to me, forcing my cock deeper into her mouth.
For a moment—only a moment—she tenses.
"Relax," I whisper, my voice just loud enough for her to hear over the distant sounds of the movie that neither of us are paying a single bit of attention to.
She does. She lets her jaw go, inhales, and lets me take control, pushing her head down against my lap so my cock glides farther into her throat. I hiss through my teeth when I feel my tip touch the back of her throat. Fuck. She's a fucking pro. I've never met a girl who could take my cock this deep.
And then, to my shock, she grips my ass with both hands and draws herself farther forward. The tip of my cock edges down into her throat, and I inhale again, needing every ounce of self control I retain not to gasp at the sensation.
Fucking hell.
I ease up on her hair, draw her back, and she gasps in a fresh breath of air as my cock glides out of her mouth once more. But then she's straight back in, using that tongue of hers to full advantage as she starts to rock back and forth before me on her knees, and I pull her by her hair, closer, then away, then closer again. We find our rhythm, her rocking in front of me, her hands still exploring my balls, her tongue and lips and mouth driving me fucking wild.
My only regret is that there's not a little more light in this theater. As sexy as it is that she's doing this right here in public, out in the open, I still wish I could see her face. Wish I could watch as my cock glides in and out of her pert lips, glistening with her spit. As it is, all I can make out are her eyes fixed on me, and the occasional flare of desire that flashes in them as she tightens her lips, sucks harder.
She uses one finger to press on the spot right behind my balls, and this time I can't suppress it—a faint groan escapes my mouth, try though I might to contain it. That makes her laugh, soft, in the back of her throat, and the vibrations send a whole new wave of sensations shooting up my cock, through my body.
I can't take it anymore. I grip her head and take control, pulling her up onto her knees higher and pumping in and out of her mouth. She loosens her jaw again, relaxes, lets me fuck her face and throat, all the while moaning softly in the back of her throat, just enough to vibrate her mouth around me, and to let me know how fucking turned on she is by this. Every bit as much as I am. She's hungry for it—and that makes her even hotter right now.
Once I take over, it doesn't take long before I'm nearing my edge. I shut my eyes, force my cock down her throat once, twice, a third time, and then, with a guttural growl, I finish deep in her throat. Her throat constricts around me, swallowing my cum, and when I release her hair, expecting her to sit up, instead she just keeps licking and sucking at my cock, cleaning me off completely.
That's almost enough to make me start getting hard again, just watching.
Finally, she slides back up to my waist, my chest. I grab her shoulders and pull her onto my lap, spectators be damned. I kiss her hard on the mouth, swirl my tongue along hers, and savor the taste of me on her lips, the way our flavors and scents mingle.
Fuck. I am so fucked. This woman is unlike anyone I've ever met. Any girl I've ever been with.
She shoots me a sly grin and slides off my lap into the seat beside me, turning to pick up her popcorn again as though nothing happened. But I grab her hand, and she twines her fingers through mine, leans her head on my shoulder, and we sit like that for the rest of the movie. Having missed the first half of the plot, neither of us have half a clue what's going on. But we don't care. It doesn't matter. I'm too focused on her anyway—the scent of her hair, where it drapes over my shoulder, the feeling of her warm arm pressed against mine, her cheek cradled in the crook of my neck. The sensation of her fingers curled through mine, tiny and delicate inside my large hand. I don't want this moment to end.
But eventually the credits roll, the lights come up, and we push to our feet, walking back to our apartment and our separate lives.
8
Cannon
"So about work."
I hesitate in front of the coffee machine. I woke up first this morning, so I set about making our usual double cups of extra strength. But then Rina popped out of her room early, already dressed and showered. She looks good. Really good. But I resist the impulse to tell her so. Ever since the movie night a couple days ago, she's been quiet, pensive around me. We hooked up again both nights since, but afterward, every time, she retreats to her room before I can suggest that she stay in mine.
I try to tell myself it's better this way. That this NSA arrangement is what we both want.
I don't know that I believe that anymore though. Not about myself. But I have to be selfless here. I know Rina's goal in all this. She wants a kid—no father involved. That's what I promised her. Just a sperm donation, no feelings attached. It's clearly what she wants. So I need to respect that.
No matter what else I'm starting to feel.
"I got your memo last week," I reassure her. "No letting on to anybody about us. We're on the same page."
"It's not that. I mean, I do agree, we need to keep this quiet here, but, I was going to ask about something else." She bites her lower lip. I have to fight the urge to sweep her onto the kitchen counter right here and kiss her until that worried look melts into a sexy little gasp of pleasure. "It's Lacy."
I frown. Whatever I expected this morning, it wasn't a mention of Rina's friend. "Is she okay?"
"She's fine. Just..." Rina laughs a little. Rolls her eyes. "Classic Lacy. She's gone and developed the most ill-advised crush ever."
I blink. Take a moment to sip my morning coffee. "Who?"
Rina's expression shifts from worried to mischievous. "Guess."
I continue to frown over the edge of my coffee mug. "No idea, honestly."
"You know him. He works with us."
"Jason in accounting?" I wager. He's some former college football hotshot that half the girls on the floor drool over.
Rina snorts. "No, ugh. Chris."
I bark out a laugh, unable to contain myself. Then I sober at the narrow-eyed glare on Rina's face. Oh crap. I mean, I love Chris and all, he's my guy, but he tends to make as much of a mess of any girl he hooks up with as I do.
As I did. Before Rina.
Possibly after Rina too, who knows.
I grimace. "That's... Not exactly advisable," I finally say, the most diplomatic response I can think
of. After all, Lacy is Rina's closest friend at work. And yes, she's cute, though she can't hold a candle to Rina in my opinion. I'd bet Chris wouldn't mind a hookup. But when I think about what a drama-bomb that could turn into, if they started hooking up and then Chris blew her off and then she got upset and then recruited Rina to get mad on her behalf...
That's a landmine I'm not sure I want to plant in the middle of our office.
"She knows he's a player." Rina rolls her eyes again. "She's not an idiot. It's just a physical thing. Apparently they already made out at Michael's bar one night last week."
My eyebrows shoot even higher. "Really?" Chris normally doesn't shit where he eats. Company policy, he always says. Then again, I guess there are exceptions to every rule. I used to say that kind of shit too. Now look at me.
"Don't tell her I told you either," Rina adds, leaning over to prod my chest with a finger. "She asked me to keep it hush, and just get you to feel Chris out on the down-low. Pretend I'm subtle."
I snort. "Yeah, about as subtle as a B-52 bomber."
"Watch the sarcasm, mister." She glares at me, playfully now.
In response, I step across the kitchen toward her. Take the coffee cup from her hand, and then spin her around in front of me until her hips are pinned between mine and the counter. "And what are you going to do if I don't, exactly?"
She lifts her chin, eyes narrowed and fixed on mine. "I'll think of some suitable way to torture you."
"Oh you will, huh?" I run my hands down her sides, tracing her curves. Reaching around to cup her tight little ass and squeeze it hard through the fabric of her loose skirt. "I thought torturing you was my job."
She swallows hard, her eyes unfocusing a little at my touch. With a deep inhale, she forces herself to catch her breath. "Clearly," she replies with a pointed glance toward my hands. Then she grabs my wrists and gently but firmly removes my hands from her ass. "But you can't torture me this morning, I'm afraid. Big meeting with my boss to go to." She checks the clock over my shoulder. "And I'm already running late."