I swear under my breath, dropping my head back until it hits the door with a loud thud. He teases me; licking, kissing, and nipping everywhere except the spot I’m dying for him to get to. When the flat of his tongue runs along my sac, I swear I see God.

“Fuck,” I rasp, my hand going to his head, fingers weaving through this thick hair.

He brings his tongue to my swollen head, licking my arousal off the tip, and sending a shock wave of pleasure through my body. When he finally—finally—wraps his lips around me, I could come right then.

I haven’t been with a single other person since him five years ago, and if I don’t watch out, I will finish embarrassingly fast. Everything about what he’s doing is perfection. His mouth is hot and wet, his tongue slick and skilled as it slides and twirls around me, and the way he peers up at me beneath those thick, dark lashes is undeniably sexy.

Taking me farther into his mouth, those lust-filled, doe eyes never shy away from holding my gaze. This moment, the air around us, the sight of him at my feet, is heady. I’m stuck between wanting to devour him whole while he equally devours me and wanting to make this last forever. When this moment is over, when the dust settles, there’s no way to know if he’ll want it to happen again.

He sucks me in long, slow strokes, his tongue sliding underneath my length before twirling teasingly around the tip. When his hand cups my balls, squeezing just right, the tingling sensation begins at the base of my spine, and I know I need to stop this right fucking now unless I want to blow.

“Wait, wait!” I fist his hair, pulling his head off me, as he looks up at me, dumbfounded.

He blinks up at me, lips red and swollen, glistening with his spit. “What’s the matter?”

“It’s been a really long time since I’ve been with anyone,” I grit out. “And I don’t want to come too quickly. I want to enjoy this with you… make you feel good before I come.”

He studies me for a moment. “How long?”

Grumbling, I run my hand down my face, feeling warmth creep up my neck. “Uh, five years.”

“What?” It’s asked quietly. A whisper.

I’m unable to meet his gaze. I don’t know why this is so embarrassing for me to admit. Probably because I know he moved on, and I’m the one that left, so logically, I should’ve moved on too. But I didn’t.

I couldn’t.

“Five years, Cash.”

He stands, face mere inches from mine. “You mean…”

“Yeah, not since you.”

“But—”

“Not tonight. Please. I’ll explain, just not tonight. Not like this.”