Page 53 of Heat Exchange
Turning sideways, she leaned her head against his shoulder and ran her hand over his stomach. His abs tightened in response, making her smile. “Sometimes the fact you’re always running around in just your boxer briefs is very convenient.”
“Oh yeah? How so?”
She slid just the tips of her fingers under the elastic waistband. “Easy access.”
He moaned when her fingers stroked the length of his erection, and closed his eyes for a moment. She wasn’t surprised when he opened them again, though. He’d want to watch.
“I should see if I can make you beg,” she told him.
“Nope.” He lifted his hips so his hot, hard flesh brushed her palm. “I didn’t make you beg for my hand down your pants in the storage closet, did I?”
She closed her fingers around his hard length and smiled when he groaned, deep in his throat. Then she stroked him with long and slow strokes, watching his face. “But we’re not talking about my hand. We’re talking about my mouth.”
“I’d beg for your mouth.”
It was tempting to make him, but she wasn’t in the mood for games. She moved over on the cushion so she had room to bend down and then very slowly circled her tongue around the head of his cock.
Her hair fell forward and she shoved at with her free hand, but it wouldn’t stay. She was debating on how much it would kill his mood if she paused to throw an elastic in it when she felt his hands gathering it.
He held it all in one fist, and she knew it was as much so he could see her face as to keep her hair out of the way. She licked her lips, making him groan in anticipation, and then closed her mouth over him.
With the same slow, lazy rhythm he liked to torment her with, she drew him into her mouth and then raised her head again. When his hand tightened in her hair, she stopped and closed her lips only around the head of his cock. She swirled her tongue around the tip and resisted when he gave her head a little nudge.
He muttered a mix of curses and pleas under his breath, and she closed her hand around the base of his dick. Squeezing gently, she worked her hand up to meet her mouth and then back again.
His breath grew ragged and she took him fully into her mouth again, until her lips met her curled fingers. Then she worked them together—her mouth and her fist—in fast, deep strokes. He groaned her name, his fist in her hair tightening almost to the point of being painful, and then he was coming. She stroked him until the orgasm passed, swallowing without losing the rhythm.
When he was finished, she ran her tongue over the tip and then pulled the waistband of his boxer briefs back into place. Aidan hauled her up and into his lap, holding her close and kissing her hair.
“Gimme a few minutes,” he said, still catching his breath, “and then we’ll see if I can makeyoubeg.”
Now that was a game she could get behind.
* * *
DANNYTOOKALONGand slow breath before he opened the front door of his parents’ house and walked inside. It felt weird to just walk in, even after years of doing it, but his old man had gotten pissed about having to get off his ass to answer the door, only to find out it was his son.
Neither his brother nor sister was around, which suited Danny just fine. He loved them, he supposed, and would always be there for them if they needed him. But he didn’t like them very much and all of them in the small house at the same time could be a bit much.
“Ma,” he yelled from just inside the door, since he still felt a need to announce himself.
“In the kitchen!”
Of course she was. It was a room her husband rarely ventured into, preferring to have his wife deliver anything he wanted to his recliner that had been parked in the living room for as long as Danny could remember.
His mom looked a lot older than the last time he saw her, even though it had only been five or six months. Or maybe she just looked that way to him because she’d lost some weight. He kissed her cheek, noticing she still smelled like cigarette smoke even though the doctor had warned her to quit at least a year ago.
“It’s good to see you,” she said in her raspy, chain-smoker’s voice.
“You, too, Ma. Where’s Dad?”
She sneered. “He went upstairs because he’s a moron and he had a frappe for lunch even though the doctor told him he’s lactose intolerant.”
Danny wasn’t sure why his parents even bothered seeing doctors. He couldn’t think of a single time either of them had ever listened to the advice they were given. “What is it you need me to do?”
He realized after he asked it that the question probably sounded abrupt, but he didn’t care. His mother had asked him for a favor and he’d do it, but he didn’t want to be in this house any longer than necessary.
“I need you to change the lightbulb in the laundry room,” she said. “I’ve been asking your father to do it for two months, but you know how he is. The only light I have is what shines in from the hallway.”
