“I’m not going to stop unless you tell me you absolutely don’t want my mouth on your cock,” she teased him, wriggling as he found her nipple and began to coax it with his fingers. That was all it took for her core to feel hollow and needy and aching once more. “That you don’t want my tongue all over you, tasting you like you tasted me.”

“You know I want that,” he rasped.

“Then touch me and take that pained expression off your face.”

Hank grimaced. “Not pained.” His fingers stroked over her nipple again. “Just . . . concentrating so it doesn’t get too good too fast.”

Ah. Now, that, she understood. “You tell me if I need to ease up, then.” Her hand smoothed down over the bulge of his cock. Oh yeah, that was all him. Good lord, the man was built in every way. They made them big in Alaska, it seemed. “This is . . . impressive.”

“It’s because you’re so small.” His hand slid down her side, then went under her skirt and caressed her bare ass.

He made her sound like she was pocket-size instead of just short. “Not too small to take you in my mouth,” she murmured, and slid his zipper down carefully, just in case he wasn’t wearing underwear.

And . . . he wasn’t. That somehow didn’t surprise Becca. Hank wasn’t the type for fuss. Maybe this monster in his jeans didn’t fit right in the underwear he’d worn in the past. All she knew was that she didn’t care, because it meant one less barrier between them. She eased his pants down his hips slightly, and he lifted his hips to tug them down further to help her along.

Then his equipment was free and Becca got her first long look at the man in all his glory. Emphasis on glory, she decided, because he was impressively large. He was bigger than she’d ever seen—not that she’d had much experience—and instead of a slender wand, his dick was impossibly thick, a vein trailing up one side. The prominent head was a deep purple, drops of pre-cum already wetting his skin, and the entire package rested in a surprisingly tidy nest of dark hair between his lightly furred thighs.

Becca made a noise of pleasure in her throat and slid her hands down his thighs, framing his privates with her hands. “That is . . . wow.”

“Too much?” She could feel him tensing, as if he was a problem.

She shook her head. “I don’t think I’d ever use that term. Maybe . . . a ‘mouthful.’” She grinned at him. “You’re perfect, Hank.”

He gave her a sharp nod, and her heart pinged in her chest. For a man that had a child, he was acting very shy, and she reminded herself that his one week of sexual experiences hadn’t been great.