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“Tell me what you mean.”
“I want to make you cum in my mouth. I want to feel that. I want to watch you while I do it.”
“Okay,” he said, trying to ignore the sheen of sweat forming on his brow. His mind was not working properly. It had to be malfunctioning because listening to the words coming out of her mouth, he couldn’t understand why she was stopping.
“I need to know if it’s okay... Is it--I mean, can I--is it allowed?” The look of genuine concern on her face was too much for him. He closed his eyes, because if he didn’t, he was going to laugh until his throat was raw and he couldn’t do that to her.
“Are you,” he said, swallowing hard because it was difficult to form complete sentences right this second, “are you asking me about halacha right now?”
He hoped thereally, right now?was implied and she wasn’t offended by it. She had the good sense to at least look sheepish.
“I just need to know I’m not going to ruin your week,” she said, looking so unsure for that moment that his heart twisted. “I want this to be a good thing for you.”
“It’s going to ruin my week if youstop. Shoshana, it’s allowed. And I need you to put your mouth on me right now.” he said, hoping this would be enough for her. Because now his mind was doing what it always did, working furiously to send him snippets of pertinent information and the last thing he wanted to be doing at the moment was considering the position of the Rambam on the appropriateness of fellatio.
Her smile was euphoric. She moved between his legs, graceful as a dancer. He fell back, sprawling on the futon’s mattress and he didn’t care.
The look in her eyes as she bent to him was one, he wanted burned into his memory.
She closed her lips over his erection, and he gasped, hips bucking up to meet her almost entirely on their own. She settled in, the hand not wrapped around him working down, coaxing with small, tight caresses along his inner thigh. Then she was taking more of him into her mouth, her lips sure and her rhythm true. Her fingers worked him with deft attention.
When her lips left his erection, he hissed a sound that truly could have been pain, but her fingers were working him. Faster now.
And her mouth--oh,God, that perfect mouth was closing over the delicate skin of his sac. He felt her tongue and his hips moved with her, he was close now. The pleasure felt like riding a knife’s edge. Her fingers were working between his thighs, at the place behind his balls, that short, enticing patch of skin. She was massaging now, exerting insistent, even pressure and he couldn’t help the moan that escaped his lips.
“I’m going to--” he broke off, unable to finish the sentence, unsure exactly what was about to happen because he’d never felt this building before. Shoshana’s mouth was back, those lips and that tongue returning to what had been such delicious torture only moments ago. She groaned as she took him into her mouth, her eyes telling him exactly how much she loved doing this to him.
He felt the vibration of that groan and closed his eyes because he couldn’t take it. His hands were tangled in her hair, and he knew he should ease up, allow her to set her own pace, but he was beyond that now. His hips moved with her, snapping into her as she sucked him. His muscles shook with the effort to stop, to hold back, to slow down, but he couldn’t. There was nothing except the feel of her mouth on him, the sensation of her tongue as she--as she--
Oh,God.
David was aware that he was speaking, was aware that what was spilling from his mouth wasn’t words. Nothing coherent. Nothing that could have been misconstrued as conversation. But as he came, as the orgasm ripped through his body in ways he couldn’t have imagined before, his mouth was forming words. The same word. Over and over again. A prayer. A chant.
Shoshana.
Twenty-Two
Over the next couple of weeks, they fell into a pattern. During the day, it was calls and texts--Shoshana wasn’t sure, but she thought she could probably give her teenage-self a run for her money on her ability to type a response without her eyes on the keypad. At night, they FaceTimed. Or there was a date, and they went back to her house to explore each other without the annoyance of a center console between them.
She knew she was acting differently. She felt lighter, freer than she had in a long time.
People were starting to notice.
Shoshana would be working and look up to see Baxter giving her a sly, thoughtful smile. Or Leah was dropping hints that she should make going to services a regular thing, since she and the rabbi were so friendly. Abi just made a point tonotnotice.
And that light, easy feeling was making her more accepting of all the lunches.
Because she was still absolutely going to those. On top of the ones scheduled that first night, a few of the women had followed up for a second, or in Patti’s case, a third and fourth.
And Shoshana… didn’t hate it.
It was nice, in a strange way. They were all so happy to see her, so keen to hear about her life, and when she told them the truth they listened. Which made her want to know abouttheirlives and ask questions and be genuinely excited over the smallest things. The PTA. Bunko tournaments. Things she would never personally engage in, but she was ecstatic for these people that they had these things that made them happy.
It was odd. When she said as much to David, he’d only given her a long, amused look and said something about how she wasn’t that hard to be around. She didn’t understand it, but she didn’t want to scrutinize it too closely for fear that it would all dissipate, like so many soap bubbles.
Instead she was trying to simply accept things as they happened. She and Baxter had begun spending an hour every morning and then another hour in the afternoon going over his Work Bible. The thought of doing any of the more complicated things--like paying commissions to the artists, or remembering the myriad of details around each of the individual vendors likes and dislikes that Baxter just seemed toknowwas enough to give her a stress rash, but she refused to think about it. He wanted to teach her and she absolutely refused to repay his many kindnesses by fucking things up the minute he left.
Shoshana suspected she was putting too much pressure on herself. But she wouldn’t think about that either. If she did, then she would dissolve into a puddle on the floor and she had too much to do.
