Page 29 of The Love Playbook

I’m not a porn-star-worthy deep-throating queen or anything, but I know how to pleasure a guy.

Closing my eyes, I lose myself in the sensations of his cock on my tongue, finding and circling the underside of the head with the tip of my tongue, my lips tightening in a would-be smile when he jerks and thrusts farther into my mouth.

I have my hand wrapped around the base of his dick to keep him from going farther than I want. I’ll let him gag me later. Maybe another time altogether. Because once the gagging starts, it’s too easy for it to happen again, and that ruins it for me. Plus, he’s such a sweetheart that he’d probably feel bad and want to stop before getting off, and we definitely can’t have that.

I take my time, exploring and playing, finding the different things that make him jump and jerk and thrust involuntarily.

“Christ, Autumn,” he whispers. “Fucking Christ. I don’t … I can’t … What are you doing to me?”

Blowing your mind, I think but can’t say. My mouth is full, and I’m not stopping just to make an unnecessary quip. He knows what I’m doing. He’s just on full overload because he’s never experienced it before.

Being someone’s first is heady stuff.

I knew playing with Jackson would be fun, but it’s even better than I expected. The power, the thrill, the sheer delight. The knowledge that he’s never ever experienced anything like this before. That I’ll always be the one who introduced him to this kind of pleasure.

It’s a huge turn on, and goes a ways toward making up for the fact that I’ll be the one getting myself off, most likely after he’s gone.

Eventually we’ll work on reciprocation, but I think that after this, he won’t be in any shape to remember anything I’d try to teach him.

No, today is all about him, his pleasure, and showing him what’s possible.

His thighs are tense, the muscles of his quads standing out in high relief, dusted with soft brown hair. His abs tense rhythmically as I work him over.

Next time I want to spend a while touching him more, exploring his treasure trail, feeling the softness of his body hair under my palms and fingertips.

The sensual pleasure of sex is half the fun for me. Orgasms are awesome, don’t get me wrong, but taking time to touch and explore and enjoy the variety of sensations is what really does it for me.

And now that I think about it, I realize that’s what’s been missing lately. That’s why I haven’t bothered to seek out any new encounters. Quickies in back rooms of parties don’t allow for that kind of time and exploration. And guys who enjoy that kind of thing also tend to be looking for relationships, and I haven’t been looking for the same.

Which is why this situation with Jackson is so perfect for both of us. We both have a safe environment to indulge our needs and curiosities without the attendant drama of getting on the relationship elevator that inevitably leads to marriage and kids, and eventually, divorce.

I’m aware most people would find that view to be too cynical. And maybe it is. But too many relationships end that way. And it’s not like the alternative—death—is really any happier.

Jackson bucks, going a little deeper into my mouth than I prefer, distracted by my own thoughts.

Focus, Autumn, I scold myself. I’m usually able to stay in the moment easier than this. I’m not sure why blowing Jackson has my brain running all over the place.

But I suck in a deep breath through my nose, taking in the combination of musk and soap and clean male as I continue working Jackson with my mouth and hand. I’ve been playing and teasing long enough, and from his reactions, he’s more than ready for me to finish him off.

Speeding up, I let each stroke go farther now, and he shudders, letting out a groan of pleasure, his muscles twitching each time I suck him down as far as I can.

He’s breathing hard, each exhale a sound of astonished pleasure.

“God. Autumn. Oh. My. God.” Each word is a separate breath, and I know he’s getting close. “I’m gonna … I’m, um, oh mygod.”

I redouble my efforts. He’s almost there. And then I feel it. His balls draw up tight against his body, and a second later, he’s pulsing on my tongue, filling my mouth with salty fluid.

As he finishes, I slow down, squeezing out the last drops before sitting up and meeting his eyes again.

He looks astonished. And relaxed. It’s kind of a funny combination, actually.

I give him a cheeky grin, but he doesn’t return it. He just stares at me and breathes, “Holy shit.”

“So you liked it?” I ask, already knowing the answer.

He drops his head back against the wall and squeezes his eyes shut, chuckling softly before nodding. “Yeah. Hell yeah. Holy shit.”

I settle on the bed next to him, leaning back against the wall. I typically enjoy a little cuddling at this point if it’s on offer, but Jackson seems so relaxed and lost in his own bodily sensations that I’m not sure he’d be able to do much besides lying limply next to me like he’s doing.

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