Page 180 of Nyx

I'm not a prude. I know there are all sorts of pleasures you can get from oral sex. I've just never been the one on the receiving end of it.

"Do you not want me to?" he asks, his tone conversational.

"I didn't... that's not what... I've just never had that done before," I confess.

His eyes darken, but I don't get the vibe that the shadows are there because of something I've done wrong.

"Do you not want me to?"

"Do you not want to?" I counter.

"Do I not want to taste you?"

I nod.

"If this pussy was the only thing I could eat for the rest of my life, I'd sign up right now."

I swallow, the vulgar word doing something unexpected to me. He said he'd use words he normally wouldn't use, and I guess that's one of them, but it makes a tingle run up my spine rather than making me want to scrunch my nose in disgust.

"Tell me what you want, Juliet," he urges.

"Taste me," I whisper, and he does without hesitation.

I watch as his tongue snakes out, swiping at the wetness on my panties.

"Oh God," I groan, holding onto his shoulders for balance, knowing he's the only thing holding me up right now.

"Feel good?" he asks, swiping at me again before letting me answer.

"So good," I moan.

"And this?" he asks, as he shifts the fabric to the side, forms a vee with two of his fingers, spreading me open before doing it again.

The warmth of his mouth against me has got to be the best thing I've ever felt in my life.

Nothing else exists other than the two of us, and how have I lived my entire adult life without this?

I'm so lost in the feel of his lips on me, tongue working me over, that I don't realize he's moving me until the backs of my legs are against the bed.

My eyes snap open as he urges me to sit.

"You stopped," I pant, unable to hide the disappointment in my voice.

He chuckles.

"There's so much more to come, Juliet," he says as he pulls his shirt over his head. "Are you still wanting to?"

I nod my head so fast he laughs. That sound is almost as thrilling to me as the way he says my name.

I watch his abdominal muscles stretch and ripple as he reaches into the back pocket of his jeans. When he pulls out his wallet, flips it open, and grabs a condom from inside, I don't know how to feel.

He looks down at it, flipping it over twice.

"What's wrong?" I ask.

"It's been in here so long, I wanted to check the expiration date," he says, making me feel a lot better.

I have no control over this man or how he spends his time, but I also don't want to feel like this is just an everyday occurrence to him when it's such a big deal for me. I haven't been with anyone other than Graham.