Page 70 of The First Kind of Love
BRISTOL:Congrats, Ful. I think. Sounds kind of weird over text.
CASEN:Yeah, ditto. We never thought this day would come. Oryouwould come. LMAO.
GAGE:I can’t believe he’s having wall-banging sex right now and I’m not.
HAYES:I bought you assholes eight large pizzas. EIGHT. And this is how you repay me?
BRISTOL:Sorry, H.Someof us don’t know how to set our priorities straight.
GAGE:Oh, I know you’re not talking, Mr. I-Always-Have-Golf-Ball-Sized-Hickeys-On-My-Neck.
BRISTOL:Hey! At least I don’t leave my cum rags everywhere.
GAGE:Gasp. You know laundry isn’t my strong suit!
CASEN:Shit. I think we’re blowing up Fulton’s phone.
KIT:Ooh, I hope he has the volume turned up. That’s what you get, you ungrateful ass munch.
22
KINK SHAME? MORE LIKE KINK SAME
FULTON
Shiloh Nguyen is going to send me to an early grave. Mygirlfriendis going to send me to an early grave.
Fuck, it feels so good to say that.
I can’t believe I thought I could last a night without kissing her. I need to inhale the sweet-smelling perfume clinging to her; I need to hear the honeyed, soft-spoken lilt that always manages to silence the maelstrom in my head; I need to knead her soft skin beneath my calloused fingers.
When we stumble into our hotel room after racing down to the third floor, I get a strange sense of déjà vu as I lick into her mouth, re-memorizing the feel of the lips that were made for me. I’m pouncing on her like a wolf hunting for its mate through pheromones and the forthcoming of a particularly painful rut.
“I need you, Sunshine. Right now,” I whimper, abandoning any last remnants of my dignity as desperation ripples off me in tangible waves. Shiloh’s about to be my undoing, and she’s given me a five percent chance of survival with those humble curves and that hidden paradise between her legs.
A rumble hovers at the base of her throat, and I can feel her grinning against my lips. “A little desperate tonight, are we?”
“You have no fucking idea.”
I can never take my time with Shiloh. I don’t have the self-control or the resolution. I want to lay her out like a five-course meal and feast on her body until she’s rendered with paresthesia. Fuck, I need my pants off. I need everything off. It feels like I’m suffocating in my own skin.
With the margins of my resilience wearing thin, Shiloh inadvertently takes the lead when she pushes me up against the wall, clearly oblivious to the fact that she’s just usurped control of the entire situation. Every time she strokes my tongue with hers, she nurses the little bud of pain in my lower abdomen.
My balls tighten and draw up, precipitating a ruthless throb in my cock that’s almost powerful enough to bring me to my knees and turn an atheist into a devout Christian. God, this is fucking torture. This is fucking torture, and Shiloh could never understand the magnitude of her power over me.
Considering she barely needs to do anything to make me take off like a rocket, it’s not surprising that my head is insulated with cotton and the lower half of me trembles uncontrollably. When she rubs her clothed cunt over my erection, I know she can feel just how turned on I am.
Without warning, Shiloh palms the bulge in my pants, squeezing with enough pressure to fish a belly-deep moan out of me—to make me soil the denim with an embarrassingly noticeable wet spot. “Let me take care of you, Fulton,” she purrs, running a manicured finger over the seam that’s doing a piss-poor job of containing my swollen dick.
“Shi, no,” I start to protest—not because I wouldn’tlovefor her to take care of me, but becauseI’mthe one who should be taking care ofher—but my nonsensical words get scrubbed apart by an insistent sanding block.
Seeing as Shiloh’s usually the one to follow the rules, I’m in deep shit when she doesn’t listen to me, instead making quick work of the zipper and pulling my pants down to my ankles. My pulsing cock stands at attention, already leaking pre-cum from the preview her incredible hand gave me. My cheeks blaze with embarrassment as my dick hangs low and heavy from neglect, my belly quivering while Shiloh drags her fingers down the coarse hairs of my happy trail and over the neatly kempt dusting around my groin.
“You don’t want me to make you feel good? I know you want me to. Look at the way your cock’s dripping for me, baby. I’m sorry I’ve neglected it for so long.” She kisses the space beneath my navel, then lowers to kiss the base of my cock, and it jerks against her mouth with a brazenness that mortifies me beyond repair.
“You don’t have to,” I rush out.
Where’s the dominant Fulton who knew exactly how to dirty talk his girl into multiple orgasms? I think the big L-word gave me performance anxiety. Shiloh and I never just fucked for the sake of fucking, but now there’s an added pressure to live up to the promises we made each other.
