Page 195 of Detectives in Love
Then his tongue flicks over my nipple—just once. It’s sharp, electric. I twitch under him.
He does it again, slower, then wraps his lips around it, sucking gently, just enough pressure to make my breath catch.
I shudder.
He keeps at it, lips sealed around me, tongue moving in small circles, then broad, slow laps that make my stomach tighten. I moan, fingers threading into his hair, and he hums against me like he’s pleased.
Then he moves to the other nipple, giving it the same attention. Flicking, licking, sucking—focused, like he’s memorizing every reaction. I arch into it, mouth parted, breath coming faster. Every nerve tuned to where he touches.
Xavier moves lower, his mouth leaving my chest, tongue trailing a line down my stomach. The slow drag of it makes my abs twitch.
When he reaches my belly button, he pauses—then dips his tongue in, clearly meant to tease. I let out a shaky breath, my stomach pulling tight. He’s not even touching my cock yet, and I’m already struggling to stay still. And yeah, now I’m really glad I took a proper shower at the hospital this morning.
He doesn’t linger long. Just shifts lower—and that’s when his chin bumps against my cock. It makes me jerk. It’s not even a touch, just pressure, but it feels like a shock.
Xavier chuckles. I feel it against my skin. Then he moves lower.
He doesn’t touch me directly. Not yet.
Instead, his mouth moves everywhere else—pressing kisses to the lower part of my belly, the crease of my thigh, the skin just beside where I need him most.
He licks along the edge of my uninjured hip, deliberately close. And when I glance down, he’s watching me—eyes dark, as if he’s waiting to see how long I can hold it together.
“Fuck,” I breathe, brain short-circuiting at the sight.
Xavier just smirks, then flattens his tongue, dragging it along the base of my cock. I gasp, my back arching off the bed.
He does it again. He’s not stroking me, not even touching—just licking around it like he’s savoring the taste, drawing it out on purpose. My hips twitch up, helpless, chasing contact.
Then finally—finally—he wraps a hand around me, closes it over the base, and flicks his tongue up to the head. I moan, raw and sudden, like it’s been punched out of me.
He doesn’t stop. He laps at the tip in slow strokes, tongue circling the crown, teasing the slit until I’m shaking. Quick flicks, then longer licks—tracing every ridge, every nerve ending, like he’s mapping my cock.
Then he shifts lower, licking down the underside—long swipes along the vein, his breath warm against my skin—and I can’t think, can’t speak, can’t do anything except grind helplessly beneath him.
“Xavier—” I pant, the word barely formed.
He lowers his head again, tongue dragging beneath me now, licking gently over my balls. It’s too much, but my legs fall open on instinct, hands fisting the sheets.
Then he sucks one into his mouth—soft, wet, warm—and I cry out, control gone.
“Please,” I gasp. “Please, please—” I don’t even know what I’m begging for. It’s all new, somehow, even though I’ve had my share of head from women before. But none of them were like this. None of them were Xavier. And of course he’s good at it—he’s good at everything. Why would this be any different?
That’s when his mouth comes back to the tip. He looks up at me, still holding me in his hand, and then he sinks down, taking the head into his mouth. I groan—loud, helpless, already starting to fall apart.
He keeps his eyes on me, lips stretched around me, tongue working underneath as he sucks. Slow at first—like he wants to savor it. Like he wants to feel every bit of what he’s doing to me.
The sound is obscene, and I can barely keep my eyes on his.
Xavier sinks lower, taking more of me in until I feel the tight pull of his throat around the head. My mouth falls open. I curse.
He doesn’t stop. Just keeps going—deeper. His throat stretches, swallows around me like it’s nothing. There’s no resistance—just heat and pressure.
What even is his gag reflex?
He pulls back an inch to catch his breath, then takes me again—deeper. My hips jerk.
Then he finds a rhythm. Pulling back. Sliding down. Over and over—and over.
