Page 84 of Phobia
The scent of his sweat was making my head spin.
I leaned up—because apparently I could—and licked a stripe up his neck in return, just to taste the salt.
“I want you to suck my dick,” Henry murmured, his voice uncharacteristically shy, like he knew how naughty he was by admitting this out loud, but he couldn’t stop himself anyway. His cheeks were flushed, and even though it was dark, I could see the uncertainty flickering in his eyes. “I’ve never—”
“We’re going to need to flip over then.” I mourned the pressure of his hips on mine before he’d even moved.
“Wait but…” Henry bit his lip, and the almost timid expression on his face made me immediately ravenous. “Can’t we…”
“Can’t we?” I echoed.
“You know—” His eyes darted down to my mouth and I licked my lips, only to watch his gaze flood with lust once again.
“Kiss?” I sounded breathy, lost.
“Yeah.” He mirrored me, licking his own lips as he ducked down a little lower, his hot breath tickling my cheek. “That.”
Maybe I became stupid when I was horny, but I ran out of words then. I wanted to taste him just as much as he wanted to taste me. The entire month we’d spent side by side practically in silence had felt a lot like foreplay.
The first brush of his lips against mine had stars bursting behind my eyelids. His mouth was soft, warm. A stark contrast to the cold splatter of raindrops that steadily soaked us. The first kiss was tentative, shy. Like he wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself. Like he didn’t want to spook me—like he thought if he moved too quickly, he’d surely be doing it wrong.
I bit his lower lip and the sound that escaped him would live on repeat in my head for the rest of all time.
“I may not be any good—” Henry admitted, surprisingly vulnerable. I kissed him again, just to quiet his own self doubt.
“That’s okay,” I promised, because it was.
I bit his upper lip, then swiped my tongue along the seam. He parted his lips, and the first brush of our tongues together made my cock leak where it strained against my already weathered pants.
“Nnnng.” Henry was surprisingly vocal for a guy that didn’t talk much. Our tongues brushed a second time, and this time as I retreated out of the warm wet of his mouth, he chased my tongue back inside mine.
It was almost like he’d been paying attention to me.
Cataloging everything I did so he could replicate it.
It shouldn’t have surprised me that this was another thing Henry apparently did well. It was clear he was physically gifted. Athletic. Dexterous. Confident, now too. His earlier timidity gone, like it had never been there to begin with.
Soon enough he was biting at my lips, and his thick tongue was demanding and dominating as he rubbed against my palette, then traced along the length of mine. I couldn’t help but twitch and whine, the wet slurping of his tongue fucking against mine, making my belly fill with butterflies.
By the time he pulled back, I was panting, a string of spit connecting our lips as I blinked through the daze his kissing had induced, and I realized we were moving again. More accurately,hewas moving—and then moving me after him.
Once again we flipped. Henry took my place on his back in the boat, thick legs sprawled wide, his eyes dark, lips swollen. I lay between his parted legs, bracketed on either side by muscular thighs. I probably should’ve paid more attention to the fact the rain was now hitting my back full force, but I couldn’t.
I was heating up from the inside out, it was honestly surprising that the rain didn’t turn to steam the moment it touched me.
Henry’s cock was even harder than it had been before. I could remember the shape of it, how it had felt inside my grip, so vividly it made my head spin. Getting his fancy trousers open took a bit of help, and when we finally got all the buttons undone and his pants pushed low enough I could see his cock through his boxers—well…
Goddamn.
My brain short-circuited.
He was, for lack of a better word, glorious.
His dark hair lay in a mess of ebony curls behind him, usually so perfectly coiffed—and now nothing but an un-gelled mess. His cheeks were red, his eyes black with lust. His massive chest shuddered with each labored breath, and that same sturdy torso I’d admired more times than I could count was trembling as he strained to hold still. I could sense his need, practically smell his arousal in the air.
He wanted to grab me.
To fuck me.
