I edged him deeper with each long suck, craving more even while I fought down a gag. This was what I wanted. A cock was made for fucking. Putting it in my mouth wasn’t something that came naturally. I didn’t have teenage dreams about being tenderly face fucked. But I did it anyway, with relish, because it felt good for him. It’s a special kind of gift, debasement.

My jaw ached, but I welcomed the pain—I was pleasing him. I worked him harder with my tongue and lips and hands. His hands came up and grabbed my hair. Yes. He pulled me to him as his hips rocked up, less deeply but faster. I opened my mouth wider in acceptance, straining against the stiffness. He came with a grunt, spurting salty warmth into my throat, his hands stroking mindlessly through my hair.

He hadn’t yanked my hair or choked me on his cock, but it was still good. I reveled in the sight of his sated expression. All that buildup, not just the blowjob or making out, but even the dinner—all so that I could give him this moment of peace. Without opening his eyes, he reached for me and pulled me up into the crook of his arm. I curled into his side, shutting my eyes against the sight of his soft cock lying outside his jeans, too raw a reminder of what I’d just done.

He sat up and straightened his clothes. I did the same, suddenly wary.

His face turned away, but not before his eyes darkened. “Allie…I have to go soon.”

I looked down. “Oh.”

“Hey. I just have to take care of some business. Nothing bad.” His finger stroked my cheek and lifted my chin back to him. “That was great.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he said. “I’ll call you later tonight, okay?”

“Okay.”

He turned at the door. Pulling me to him with his hand behind my head, he kissed me, lingering. “I’m going to see you again soon,” he said against my lips.

My lips curved against his. “Whatever you say.”

“Damn straight.” But his eyes were twinkling as he shut the door.

This entire night worked for me. I’d had a great time but wasn’t ready for the implications of a sleepover. And I got to pick up Bailey while she was still awake, our dinner being so much earlier than a club visit. That may not have been everyone’s idea of a great date, but to me it was almost like heaven.

Except for the cough. It was only a small, dry cough when I picked Bailey up from Shelly’s apartment, but it quickly progressed into a full-fledged mortar explosion, complete with phlegmy shrapnel. As if that wasn’t scary enough, her fever spiked from a low-grade 99 up to 102 degrees even with medicine.