Page 39 of Never Too Late

“Do you have lube?” My eyes snapped open at the question to find Cillian staring at me, his cheeks flushed and his pupils dilated. “We’re going to need it because I’m going to finger you while I suck you.”

“In the bedroom,” I said, my voice sounding like it belonged to someone else.

“Get it. Don’t be long. If you’re longer than thirty seconds, I’m ending the call.”

Despite knowing that was bullshit when we’d come this far, I still ran to the bedroom like my life depended on it.

A startled Quasimodo raised his head from where he’d plumped for the bed over my discarded shirt. He watched me with wide eyes while I fumbled the bottle of lube out of the top drawer of my nightstand and exited the bedroom just as quickly as I’d arrived. “I’d stay in here if I were you,” I shouted over my shoulder. “Unless you’re happy to see some things you won’t forget in a hurry.”

Breath whooshed out of me as I plonked my arse back on the seat and brandished the bottle of lube like a trophy.

“Who were you talking to?” Cillian asked.

“My secret lover. I keep him in the bedroom.”

“Not funny,” Cillian grumbled. “Do you know how relieved I was when I finally tracked you down to find out you weren’t seeing anyone?”

“No. Why don’t you tell me?”

“Later.” His gaze drifted down my chest to where I’d automatically spread my legs again on sitting, my cock not having deflated in the slightest. “We have that to deal with first.”

“It was Quasimodo,” I said absently, my mind already back on the burning need to take my cock out, my fingers clenching reflexively on my thighs.

“Good to know he’s in the bedroom and not watching.” Heat flared in Cillian’s eyes again. “I’m on my knees in front of you. I run my fingers over your cock and I squeeze your balls.”

“Yeah,” I said, automatically providing the actions as he said it.

“I’m desperate to suck you, to taste you, to take you as deep down my throat as I can. Tell me how much you want me to blow you.”

“I want that,” I said. “I want it so much.”

“I peel down your underwear.” Relief slammed into me. “Slowly,” he cautioned. “I want to draw out that moment of anticipation of seeing your cock again. It’s been so long.”

I hooked my fingers in the waistband, drawing the moment out for as long as I could. Eventually, though, there wasn’t enough fabric to hold it back and my erect cock escaped its confines to slap against my abdomen.

“Beautiful!” Cillian said with admiration in his voice. I went to stroke it and he made that noise in his throat again. “Not yet.”

“I’m beginning to hate those words,” I said. “They feel like revenge.”

Cillian’s laugh showed signs of strain. “They’re definitely not revenge. I just don’t want this over and done with in two minutes. And you’re primed to blow far too quickly if I let you.”

“That’s what you get for tormenting me.”

His fingers went to his trousers, making quick work of the fastenings before tugging both underwear and trousers down in a swift move that couldn’t have been more different from the way he’d had me do it. I drank in the sight of Cillian’s cock, my memories not having done it justice.

He plucked a bottle of lube off the table, which he must have sourced even quicker than I had when I’d gone to the bedroom, and squeezed a good amount into his palm. “What do you want to do?” he asked. “Want to do this?” When his lubed fingers dropped to his cock and drifted along the length of his bare shaft, I was the one who groaned.

Cillian’s smile was pure devilment as he gave his cock a firmer stroke. “It feels so good,” he said. “Especially with you watching. It makes me want to sit here and get myself off without you touching yourself.”

“Oh whoops, my finger slipped and I ended the call,” I deadpanned. “And how did this start off all about me, and endup with you being the only one getting off? You were meant to be blowing me.”

Cillian’s hand stilled, and he inclined his head in recognition of the point. “You’re right.” He jerked his chin to the bottle I’d left next to the laptop. “Lube!”

“I’m not sure I like this bossy side of you,” I said as I picked it up.

“Your cock says you do.”

“My cock has repeatedly shown that it’s unfit to make important decisions. If it was up to my cock, I’d never have left London. My cock would have me bent over your desk now.

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