Page 32 of Wine & Dine

“Garrett,” I whisper, stroking the ridge bulging in his sweatpants with a finger. He shifts his body, and his fingers, loosely resting on my hip, tighten. My fingers curl into the band of his sweatpants, and his lids open a bit. A sly smile curves his lips.

“Whatcha doing?” Hooded eyes peer down at me, mischievous and daring. Keeping my eyes on his, I tug at the waistband and slip my fingers inside his pants, palming him over his boxers.

“Dolores,” he groans, his head falling back in submission. My exploration continues. He’s long, firm, and ready. How was he hard so quickly? I refuse to compare him to another. He’s so much more than anyone I’ve been with even hidden under his tight boxer briefs. I know this for certain. I curl up on my knees to get a better angle and tug his sweats lower on his hips. Garrett’s hand comes to the back of my head, and his fingers comb through my hair.

“Dolores, what are you doing?” His voice remains lazy.

I don’t answer him. I’m on a mission. He’s been so nice to me all day. He held me all night. I just want to give him something in return. My fingers curve around his thick shaft, and I squeeze. Garrett hisses.

“You don’t have to do this,” he says, but his fingers tug at the ends of my hair. I lower and kiss his exposed tip.

“Fuck, Dolores. Don’t tease.”

I answer him by forcing his briefs lower and then swirling my tongue around the mushroom ridge. Then I open wide and draw him deep. His hand fists in my hair, twisting the tresses around his closed hand near the nape of my neck. I drag my lips to the tip and then fill my mouth with him again. Back and forth, I work him, sucking, licking, savoring. Working over him is working me up as well, and I’d love to touch myself, but this moment is for him.

“Sweetheart,” he warns, his fist tugging gently. “I…” His voice falters as I take him deeper. Fighting past the gag, I bring him to the back of my throat, and he explodes. His lips mutter a litany of curses like a prayer of gratitude. Pulling back slowly, I swallow every drop of him and sit up.

“What was that?” he asks, sitting straighter and scrubbing at his face with both hands. I still don’t answer, and then his hands reach for my face. He tugs me toward him, but I stop him with a palm on his chest.

“Wait.”

“What?” His voice rises an octave.

“You don’t want to kiss me after that.” Rusty never allowed us to kiss after he’d come in my mouth. I’m not fucking tasting myself. I learned early not to go for him after taking him in.

“Fuck that,” Garrett says before his mouth crashes mine. I’m pressed back as his lips seize me. The kiss devours my lips, sucking them into his mouth before opening and delving forward with his tongue. He sweeps the inside of my mouth as his fingers slip into my hair, and he fists the strands again, tilting my head to tangle my tongue farther with his mouth. He’s consuming me, and I want to be swallowed whole.

A vibrating noise sounds from the coffee table.

Garrett continues kissing me.

Then the buzzing begins again. Garrett pulls back, and I realize it’s my phone.

“Maybe it’s Denton. I wanted to talk to my grandmother tonight.” We both look at the phone at the same time to see it isn’t Denton.

The caller ID reads Rusty.