Page 9 of False Start
What did he look like? The imprint suggested he was long. Thick, too. Was he wearing boxers? I wanted to explore him as thoroughly as he had me.
But then, unbidden, came the memory of the last man I’d had sex with.
Why do you think I cheated on you? You’re a fucking dead fish in bed. You should be thanking me for staying with you. I wouldn’t if you weren’t so nice to look at.
I didn’t think Pete ever actually liked me. He liked showing me off to others, but he got tired of explaining things to me, and apparently, I wasn’t good at anything when it came to sex.
What if Weston decided I was bad at sex too?
I glanced at his face and stopped breathing.
Like he’d been waiting for my attention, he slowly raised the fingers he’d just had inside me to his lips and ran his tongue over them, lollipopping them like they were a sweet treat to be savored.
“Fucking delicious.”
It’s just one night. You’re an actress. You can pretend to be good at sex for one night.
My eyes drifted down his torso and I realized that while I was naked and coming harder than I ever had in my life — self-service orgasms included — Weston was still fully clothed.
First rule of good sex: everyone should be naked.
Sending up a prayer for strength to return quickly to my cum-drunk muscles, I hauled myself upright and reached for Weston’s shirt.
“Wasn’t the whole purpose of this for me to see you naked? You’re holding out on me.”
Weston huffed a laugh. Wrapping his fingers gently around my hand, he reached behind his head and slid his shirt off without bothering with the buttons.
“Holy shit.” I couldn’t decide which part of his body to focus on as Adonis-level muscles flexed and contracted beneath golden skin with his movements. I didn’t know men looked like this outside of Hollywood. His well-defined shoulders shrugged as he worked the button and zipper on his pants, and he glanced at me in question with his thumbs hooked in the waistband.
“If you ask me if I’m ready again, I’m taking matters into my own hands,” I said, pointedly eyeing the blond trail of hair that teased at what I wanted to see.
“Yes, ma’am.” With a cheeky glint in his eye, he pushed down his pants and boxers in one move and straightened with a foil square in hand which held it out to me.
“Care to do the honors?”
With fingers that shook, I ripped open the package and eyed his… package. It was long and even thicker than I’d thought, with a clear bead of pre-cum forming on his plump crown. Without thinking, I leaned forward and lapped it up before rolling the condom over his length.
“Fuuuck, princess. I want to be inside you so badly, but that mouth is temptation itself.”
“Next time,” I purred, knowing, and regretting, that it was an empty promise.
“For now, show me what you can do with that thing.”
His chuckle ghosted across my skin as he came down over me, positioning himself at my entrance and pushing in in a slow, even stroke that stretched me to my limits.
“Are you okay?” he asked, studying my face for signs of discomfort.
“Perfect. Keep going.”
When he was fully seated inside me, he took a moment to let me adjust before starting in on a rolling rhythm that seared through me, lighting up parts that had felt dark for a long time.
Sex had always felt like giving something up. Like the men I had been with took their pleasure and to hell with my wants and needs.
With Weston, he was all about giving. Even as he increased his pace, I felt as though it was all designed for me. My pleasure. My needs. I closed my eyes against an unwanted swell of emotion as a gentle, soul-shattering orgasm swept through me.
As he growled through his own release and we floated together in post orgasmic bliss, I realized how lucky I was that this was a one-time-only deal.
My heart wouldn’t survive any longer exposure to this man.
