Page 28 of Saving Ian Pope

“I have an idea.” I drummed my fingers on his arm. “Chloe might jump the gun sometimes, but she’s very good at her job. She might be able to do a reverse lookup on this picture and find out if it’s been used before or maybe even find the real owner.”

“And what good would that do me? I’m not going to publicly address this. Oh, hello, Ian Pope here, and I just wanted to let you all know I did a bit of research, and that cock belongs to Harry Dick.”

I punched his hard bicep. “You’renot going to address it at all, but a little army of your fans can. Chloe can start the ball rolling with a few fake accounts reporting that the picture is a phony. Your fans will pick up on it and do the rest of the work. Item debunked and squashed.”

“Chloe would do that? She looked like she wanted to punch me in the face fifteen minutes ago.”

“She’ll do it if I ask her.” I slid my hand under his shirt and smoothed it across his washboard abs.

He sucked in a sharp breath. “She’s a good friend.”

“The best.” I hooked my fingers in the waistband of his tan pants and wriggled them close to the dick of the moment.

Closing his eyes, he asked, “What are you doing, Tink?”

“More research. Before I commit Chloe to the task, I have to be absolutely sure this is not the cock in question.”

“And how are you going to do that?” He crossed his arms behind his head in a relaxed pose, but his chest rose and fell with each heavy breath.

“Further inspection.” I undid his pants and yanked them down his slim hips. I smoothed my hand over the large bulge in his briefs, and he raised his buttocks from the bed. I took the blatant invitation and peeled down his underwear.

Curling my hand around his cock, I breathed out, “Impressive but not porn star quality. I concur. The dick pick is a fake.”

“I don’t know. You might need to do more to convince Chloe.” He gasped as I cupped his sac and circled my fingers around his base, squeezing hard.

“I think you’re right.” I dipped my head and ran my tongue along the length of him. When I got to the head, I wrapped my lips around it, tasting his slightly salty and tangy pre-cum. As I bobbed my head up and down, sliding his cock in and out of my mouth, he tangled his fingers in my hair and hissed.

When I stopped to reposition myself and adjust my jaw, he stroked my face with his long fingers. “Why do you still have clothes on? I wanna be inside you.”

“You were inside me.” I pointed to my mouth.

“Don’t be cheeky. Get naked.”

“When you put it so sweetly and romantically, how can I refuse you?” I pulled off his pants, tangled around his ankles, and then scrambled out of my own clothes, throwing everything over my shoulder, piece by piece. Then I attacked his T-shirt, yanking it over his head.

On my knees, I straddled his legs and drank in the sight of his nude body splayed before me, the hard planes and muscles a work of art to rival his ink. The moment had the shimmering quality of a dream, and I almost pinched myself back to reality, but I didn’t want to wake up.

With one hand still behind his head, Ian stroked my thigh with the other, and his eyes glittered below his half-shuttered lids. “I seem to have traded one addiction for another. I can’t get enough of you.”

We always seemed to be on the same wavelength, and an overpowering need to be one with him again consumed me. I moved forward, positioning myself over his erection.

“Wait.” He felt for the handle of the nightstand drawer, and I shook my head. I didn’t need the security of a condom anymore. “I believe in your six-month celibacy. I believe you, and you can believe me—I’m on the pill, and I don’t sleep around.”

Ian didn’t need any other explanation, encouragement, or proof. He grabbed his cock and slid it along my pussy, wetting the tip, propelling me into a frenzy of longing. I lowered myself on him, holding my breath as he filled up all my empty spaces.

As I rode him, he reached up and grabbed my tits, pinching my nipples, causing tingles to shoot through my body. I arched my back and moaned. His eyes never left my face, and his gaze scorched me. I couldn’t bear the intensity any longer, so I fell onto his chest, still moving against him, forward and back.

He grabbed my ass with both of his hands and pressed my body against his, lifting his hips. I rubbed my clit against his pelvis each time we made contact, as he moved in a circular motion, driving me slightly insane. My orgasm started with a buzz in the pit of my stomach, or maybe it had started in my brain or even my heart the moment I saw his defeated expression over the online smear campaign.

Body, brain, heart—they all contributed to the heat that engulfed me as I came. I cried out and sat up again, throwing my head back, going full cowgirl.

His fingers dug into my flesh, and then he exploded inside me. He thrust upward again and again, the cords of his neck visible, his muscles tight.

I fell forward, flat against his body, my hands on his shoulders, descending from his orgasm with him, my lips on his throat, measuring his pulse as it slowed to a steady tick. I released a long sigh and shivered.

Closing my eyes, I nuzzled his neck, a low growl of contentment gurgling in my throat. I didn’t want to move. Didn’t think I could move. And Ian didn’t seem in any hurry to toss me off, as he zigzagged a finger down my spine.

When he got to my tailbone, he started all over again, dabbling his fingers down my back. “Are you uncomfortable?” His voice sounded hoarse, as if he’d just remembered how to use it.

---