Page 45 of Vallaverse: Twist
I can hear the doubt in his voice, loud and clear, and I hate it. I hate that I made him feel that way. “I always want to,” I tell him fiercely. “I was trying to be a good Valla and take care of you the way you deserve to be taken care of.”
He nods. “You were. You are.”
Then he sits up and climbs onto my lap, straddling my thighs and facing me so that we're nose to nose. I don't need any more permission than that, and I want this too much to be careful. I grip the back of his neck and jerk his mouth to mine, relishing the feel of his soft lips for about a second before I lick my tongue inside his mouth. He tastes the way he always has. Sweet. So sweet. No matter when I kiss Laz, no matter what time of day, he's always so sweet, so ripe and ready to be devoured, which is exactly what I do until he's breathless and gasping against my lips.
“Wait,” he mumbles. “Wait.”
Frustration makes me snarl, but I pull back from the kiss. I don't stop touching him, though. My hands stay wrapped around his ass, just where they belong. “I'm sorry.”
“Don't be,” he whispers. “But it was getting intense, and I panicked a little. I'm sorry.”
“You don't have anything to be sorry for,” I say and start to slide him over while guilt burns inside me.
“What are you doing?” he asks, clinging to me.
“We have to stop.”
“No,” he argues. “You have to stop. I don't have to do anything.”
“Pardon?”
“I get to make you feel better, remember?” He scoots back and off of my knees, slinking onto the floor between them. “You feel better, so I'll feel better, remember?”
“This is a terrible idea.”
He smirks up at me, snaking his fingers up to undo the button on my jeans. “It's a great idea.”
His fingers are cool and firm when he wraps them around me, and my head falls back in pleasure. He starts stroking slowly, gently, until the muscles in my thighs are quivering with the need for more.
My head snaps up when I feel his tongue swipe across the weeping head. He holds my gaze while he licks over it again. And again. I groan as all he does is give me those slow, easy strokes and flicks of his tongue.
“Laz,” I growl. “Baby. You're killing me.”
“What? You don't like this?” he teases, moving his lips against the head, letting me feel the words.
“I like it,” I tell him, combing my fingers through his tangled hair. “Butfuck.”
“You need more, don't you?” He covers my tip with his mouth, sucking once and popping back off.
I grunt as my hips come up off the couch.
He smiles up at me, mischief making his eyes gleam. “How about this? Is this good?”
I grunt again as he tightens his grip and starts to stroke my cock harder, faster. The steady rhythm working me hard toward the release I can almost taste.
“Yes,” I growl. “Good.”
“What about this?” He opens his mouth wide, tongue outstretched for every drop that leaks from me as his steady pace drives me toward an early finish.
“Baby,” I gasp. “Yes.”
He keeps at it, jerking me off, licking up every collected drop until my hips are jerking and my fist is tight in his hair. He keeps his eyes trained on mine the entire time, not even closing them when my release rushes from me without warning. He holds the result of my pleasure on his tongue for a few seconds so I get a good look at the contrast between milky white and dark pink before swallowing it down.
“Better?” he asks, licking his lips.
I nod and let my head drop back onto the couch. “Maybe. Probably.”
“The answer is yes,” he chuckles.
