Page 47 of Roommate's Guide to Love

My moan starts as a hum when his mouth descends on one of my breasts. My nipples were already peaked from the cool air of the office—or at least, that’s what it should’ve been. I have a feeling they knew Porter was here, though.

And Porter is their biggest fan.

My knee nearly gives out as his mouth starts sucking like he hasn’t tasted them in ages. I reach down for his dick, wanting to feel something of his. Holy shit is he hard. It feels like steel in my hands as I stroke it as best I can from this angle. It must be working because I feel the vibration of Porter’s moans on my skin before he gives one last suck on my nipple that ends with a pop.

Porter lets down my leg before spinning me around, the front of my body now pressed against the wooden door.

“Bend over. Put that marvelous ass in the air for me.”

I do as he says, bending at the waist so I’m nearly at a right angle. The only thing that’s holding me up right now is my hands against the door, my chest pressing into it, and my wobbly legs. That’s until I feel Porter behind me, his hands spreading my ass before I feel the first swipe of his tongue on my center.

“Holy fuck!” I yelp, my elbows nearly giving out from the sensation. “Don’t stop. Please for the love of fucking everything, don’t stop.”

And I mean that. I think if Porter were to stop right now I’d cry actual tears. Which is madness. This whole scenario is. I just came here to check on him. I didn’t expect to be naked, pressed against a door, Porter going down on me in a way he never has before.

Why is this so intense? Is it the act? I mean, sure. Porter’s mouth devouring me from behind is hot as hell. But it’s more than that. This whole situation was sudden. Unplanned. And frankly, the hottest I’ve been for him maybe ever. Which is saying something. Once when I was home, he snuck me out back, fingered me behind the bar, and then told me to go wait for him in his bed. And that if I wasn’t waiting naked, or had gotten myself off again before he got there, I’d be punished.

The part of me that always bent the rules wanted to see the punishment. The part of me that has a hidden praise kink listened, knowing the pleasure was going to be too good to pass up for the sake of curiosity.

Spoiler alert: It was. The man made me squirt that night.

Though, if I really think about it, every pleasurable experience or feeling that my body has felt during sex over the course of my lifetime has come from the hands, mouth, or fingers of Porter McCoy. The man knows my body better than I do. He sure as hell knows it better than any of the clowns I tried to get with in Phoenix.

None of them know about the spot on my neck, just above my pulse, that make me shake in seconds. None of them could ever get me off with just a few fingers, yet Porter has done it on multiple occasions. Hell, he can make me come with just nipple play. And they definitely don’t know how to talk to me in the bedroom.

Nope. That’s only this man right here.

“Jesus Christ, Quinn, you taste so fucking good.” He stands up, which feels like a drastic contradiction to the words that just came out of his mouth.

“Then why are you stopping?” I’m panting, now just realizing how close I was to coming before he abruptly halted.

He grabs me around the waist, spinning me to him. Our bodies are pressed together, his dick hard as stone between us.

“Because I need to fuck you. I need that pretty pussy to grip my dick like you know I like it. I want to make you scream and wake the neighbors. You okay with that, Hurricane?”

And there it is. My kind of dirty talk. The kind that has a bit of a challenge to it. A little edge. A little bit of a dare.

And let’s be real, Quinn Banks could never turn down a dare.

I mean, any guy can throw in a “shut the fuck up” and “good girl.” Some think that they can ride the line between bossy and douchey, but they can’t.

But Porter? The man could teach a masterclass.

“Do your worst, McCoy.”

That’s all the encouragement Porter needs before he pulls me away from the door and expertly maneuvers me back to the desk. I watch in awe as he shoves off every piece of paper with a swipe of his hand.

“Sit,” he commands. “Let me look at you.”

I’m butt-naked, sitting on Porter’s desk. I’m sure my cheeks are flushed and my hair that was in a messy bun probably looks like a hornet’s nest right now. My chest is heaving in anticipation. And my heart is pounding out of my chest with the way Porter is looking at me.

“You look so good like that,” he says, at some point finding his jeans and pulling out his wallet, grabbing a condom from within. “Now spread those legs for me.”

I do as he asks, because why wouldn’t I? By the look in Porter’s eye, and the way he’s stroking himself as he fits the condom on his cock, this is about to be an epic dick down.

When he gets within a step of me, his hand is wrapped around my neck, urging me to his mouth. He doesn’t let go, applying just enough pressure to make me gasp, but not hard enough to cut off the airflow.

Just like we both like it.

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