Page 32 of The Truth of Our Past

“Whoa there.” I laugh. “Don’t strain yourself with a conversation.”

Von takes my mouth in a languid kiss. His tongue explores me, committing it to memory and cataloging every sound I make. Von makes everything so effortless. His only expectation—enjoying this moment right here—right now.

I’m still half hard and my dick doesn’t know if it should rev up again or go limp from exhaustion. Von’s kiss slows, and he separates us to lie next to me. The rock-hard steadiness of his body gone.

“I’m not good at this,” I blurt out, wincing at my words. I don’t know what to say to a guy that I plan on seeing again. Asking him questions about his cock is probably rude. Google most likely has those answers.

But more than sex, he’s my friend and losing that will hurt.

Von’s expression is perplexed as his lips touch mine. “I disagree. You were made for kissing.” He hauls me into his arms, and in a blink, I’m lying on his pillow. It’s another red flag—I really, really like him manhandling me.

His eyes are glued to where my cock is lying against my thigh. It twitches with his attention. Von leans over and licks up the cum. Sound emanates from the back of his throat and I’m hard again, that quick.

“I was going to get a washcloth,” he says apologetically before tasting me again. I prefer Von’s tongue over anything else to clean me up.

Running my fingers through his cum, I bring it to my lips. His flavor bursts in my mouth and I’m greedy for more. Tasting Von and licking his orgasm off his stomach, I roll him under me before I consciously make that decision.

Von is crisp and sharp and the most delicious thing I’ve ever put in my mouth. Opening my throat and swallowing is not the same as savoring his taste. I lap up his cum but can’t stop. I’m licking and sucking and desperate for more of him.

“Here,älskling.” He feeds me more of his cum from my body. I hold his wrist as he drags his hand across my stomach again and brings it to my mouth. I suck his fingers down with a whimper, knowing there isn’t any more.

He rests his forehead on mine.

“What the fuck is wrong with me?” I’ve never, ever craved anyone the way I do him.

“We both want more.” His nose glides alongside my jaw.

I hum in agreement, feeling better that it’s not just me.

He rolls off, but I’m not ready to break the contact, so I pivot on top of him.

“I will stop worrying that I’ll crush.” Von palms my ass.

“Yup. Take that off the list of worries.” I twist my fingers in his tangled hair.

“What are your worries?” He runs his palms up to my shoulder and back to my ass, and I fight a shiver.

“What did you call me?” I dodge his question. This is not the moment to tell him I’m done after tonight, even though I’m sure I’ll want him again.Thatis definitely worrisome.

Von, Mr. Intense Eye Contact, looks away. “It is a term of endearment. You Americans say babe.” But his hands drop to his sides and his ears turn pink. I think he called me something more sentimental than that. I should hate it. It should raise another red flag and send me running out the door, but it doesthe opposite. I like it and I like it even more that it’s made this steady man unsettled.

“Reeeaaallly?” I reach to place his hands back where they belong—on my ass. “So if I look it up in Google Translate, that’s what I’ll find.”

“Yes.” He nods and adds, “If you can spell it.”

An embarrassed Von is fucking adorable. “Good thing I won the third-grade spelling bee.”

“Naturally, there were lots of Swedish words, so you are an expert?” He arches his barely there eyebrow at me.

“Of course, and you’ll owe me a blow job if you’re lying.” I nip his neck.

“Or you’ll owe me one,” he counters.

“Hashtag winning,” I sing. “Either way, I’ll be king.” I accentuate the words with a thrust and gratuitous eyebrow wag.

Von closes his eyes and sighs. When he opens them, there’s a thin layer of frost.

“Nope, wish not granted. I’m still here.” I tug a strand of his hair.

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