Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 77490 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77490 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
So I look up at Erik and ask, “Can I lick it?”
He looks like he might have a stroke right on the spot. “Ava, honey,” he says when he recovers, “the answer to that question is always, always going to be yes—unless we’re out in public, and even then it might be yes if there are some bushes handy.”
I laugh, scoot closer, lean in, and run my tongue along the part at the top that flares out. “Fuuuuck,” Erik groans, and laces his hands together behind his head. It takes me a second to realize that he’s sticking to my no-touching policy from the other night.
“Was that good?” I ask, just to be sure.
“Fuck yeah.”
Grinning, I lick him some more—all around the top, then all the way down and back up again. Erik’s breathing hard, muttering curses under his breath. I stroke him some more while I wonder if I should do something else.
Finally, I decide to ask. “What should I do next?”
Erik cracks one eye open. He’s got that it-hurts-so-good-don’t-stop look on his face. “Typically,” he rasps out, “the next step would be to take me in your mouth and suck on me. But—”
I hold up a hand to forestall his “you don’t have to.” I love that he’s such a gentleman, but eventually, he’s going to accept that I really am enjoying myself. I move my head toward him again, and he blurts out, “Uh, no teeth.”
“Good to know,” I tell him in what I belatedly realize is a rather teasing, saucy tone, and then I close my mouth gingerly over the tip of him.
He hisses out a breath and does some more quiet cursing. I stay still for a moment, letting myself get used to the feeling and taste of him on my tongue, thinking about how to suck without using my teeth. Okay, not too difficult, just bring my lips in …
“And, uh, if you feel comfortable, you can sort of move your head up and down.” His voice is still strained.
I try that, and quickly figure out why it’s helpful. So I do it some more, bobbing my head, getting into a rhythm of sorts. I remember my multi-tasking lesson from the other night, and keep my hand wrapped around him, letting it follow the movements of my head.
After a couple of minutes of this, Erik has stopped swearing. I must not be doing a very good job. I should suck harder—but no teeth. This is trickier than it sounds, but I make an effort, and am rewarded by several guttural curse words.
I speed up, since that was a good thing the other night, but after a few moments of that, he stops me. “What’s wrong?” I ask.
“Nothing. Nothing at all. I’m about to come, is all.”
I stare at him, puzzled. “Don’t you want to?”
His mouth twitches. “Do you want me to come in your mouth?”
“Oh.” I think about it. “Yes.”
He gets that gonna-stroke-out look on his face again. “Ava—”
“Just let me, okay? If I don’t like it, we can do it differently next time.”
“As you wish,” he croaks.
I go back to work on him, and this time there’s nonstop swearing right up to the moment that he yells, “Ava! Fuck!” and then my mouth is full of hot liquid.
Even after seeing how much volume the men produced the other night, it’s more than I’m expecting, and I don’t know how to swallow it down and still keep my mouth in the right position. I release him, and he grabs himself to finish.
“Sorry about that,” I say when I can speak.
“Don’t be sorry. That was great for your first time. Fantastic, even. Come here.”
He’s tucked himself away, and I climb up in his lap and cuddle close to him again. “Lots of practice helps, right?” I ask.
“Yes,” Erik says. “Yes, it does.”
“Good,” I say, and he kisses the top of my head.
AVA
That Sunday, I debate making some excuse, like illness, for why I can’t go to church. I even consider simply not showing up without making excuses, but that will cause too much drama with my family. Eventually, I decide it’s easier if I just go.
I’m sitting toward the back with Josephine and a couple of other church friends when a familiar form slides by in my peripheral vision. I turn my head sharply, sure I’ve imagined it, but I haven’t.
Gray is here. In my church.
My heart starts beating so fast I get a little dizzy. Why is he here? I don’t think he ever attended services back when he and Aaron were still friends, so it must be because of me. But he doesn’t look at me or acknowledge me, just comes in and takes a seat.
It demands incredible levels of willpower not to simply sit and stare at him for the entire service, but I force myself to pay attention to the songs, the announcements from Pastor Williams, and all the rest of it. I hope nobody notices that my eyes flick approximately every other millisecond over toward where Gray is sitting, across the aisle and a few rows up.