Page 81 of Out Of Time

“How about two?” she asked, looking up at him, her smile spread across her face, both dimples present.

“Two is better than one, they say.”

She pressed up and kissed his jawline, sliding her tongue down the salty skin of his neck, sucking and nipping. Her hand pushed below the elastic band of his shorts, his erection hard, his tip wet with anticipation. She wiped her finger over it firmly and then gave him a slow stroke.

“I remember a conversation about a blow job,” she said nonchalantly.

“Yeah, I think there was mention of that,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Well then,” she said, sliding off the couch, encouraging him to sit back, his legs spread wide, making room for her in front of him on her knees.

“Well then,” he repeated, bringing his hands to push away the unruly blonde hair that fell across her forehead.

She leaned forward, pressing a single kiss to his tip, just to greet his beautiful cock in a friendly manner. She looked up at him, his eyes heavy on her, his hands gripping his thighs in anticipation, the cat ears still atop his head.

Remi burst out laughing.

“Max.” She laughed.

“What?” he asked, slightly confused.

“I can’t do this with the cat ears on. I just can’t.”

Max began to laugh along, and without another thought, he yanked the ears from his head and tossed them across the room. Remi pushed up on her knees, Max meeting her there halfway as she kissed him in a soul-crushing kiss, the sound of laughter still finding its way from the corners of their mouths.

Her lips fell away from his, landing on his neck, nipping at his ear and his freckle-spattered shoulder—she couldn’t get enough of him. She kissed him everywhere she could, every inch of this man was perfect and worthy of love.

The lower she got, the more her frantic kisses slowed, a trail of red leading her to his perfectly thick length. Without hesitation, she took the whole of him deep, with no reservation. She sucked him hard, a moan escaping her as she felt his hands assertively grip her hair to guide her. She slid up his length, the flat of her tongue pressing against his tip before sliding back down, sucking him down to the hilt.

Max groaned, deep and restrained.

She didn’t want him to hold back.

His grip grew firmer in her hair and the sting of it made the ache between her legs worsen. Bringing her hands up between his thick thighs, she cupped his balls, massaging them as she took him as deep as she could, staying there and sucking, using the vibrations of her own moans to let him know she wanted this as much as he did.

His body shifted under her, his hips bucking, causing her to take him even deeper, his tip hitting the back of her throat. She kept sucking, waiting for his release, but his hands tugged at her hair, willing her to pull away.

“I’m going to come,” he hummed, trying again to pull her from his body.

Slowly, she lifted up, her lips sliding to the tip of his cock and sucking his sensitive head. His body completely tensed up at the sensation of her mouth there. She took him deeply onceagain, despite his warning that he was about to climax, her jaw stretching to fit his girth. Max jerked under her, letting out a rough, deep moan as he began to come. She gripped his thighs tight and swallowed down every drop of his release.

“Oh, my… oh, fuck,” he said as he came, realizing that she wasn’t pulling away. “Oh, fuuuuuu…” he said again, and she couldn’t help but smile, her lips swollen and her jaw aching in the best way.

“Remi, Remi, Remi,” he said, pulling her up into his lap.

“Good?” she asked.

“Better than a maple bar, that’s for damn sure.”

The little band venue—The Pig Pen—was packed, considering it was Christmas Eve. Max stood at the back of the crowd, his size and red hair made him stick out like a sore thumb amongst the others: a girl with green hair, a guy with a mullet, lots of piercings, and angry-looking tattoos. Max took in all the black clothing and Dr. Martens boots, and for a crowd that liked music that sounded a bit angry at times, everyone was so extremely kind.

“This your first time seeing them?” the pocket-sized girl next to him with dark hair and perfectly straight bangs asked, as he waited alone while Remi went to get them a beer.

“Yes,” he said… because words.

“You’re in for a treat. I’ve seen them six times. They’re the only thing I would ditch my murder documentaries for on the Eve of Christmas,” she said in a monotone voice, slightly bouncing on her toes in anticipation.

“This is my first show,” he managed.

---