“Oh, God.” Her lashes flutter, and she strokes her thumb over my lower lip. “You’d better get started, then.”
It doesn’t take hours. Within five minutes of me lapping at her clit and pulsing my fingers inside her, she’s pulling my hair and begging me to let her come. I do, savoring her soft little whimpers as she bucks against my face. After she calms, I’mdown to keep going, but she turns the tables on me and kneels on the floor between my feet.
Heaven. Her mouth on my cock is absolute heaven. Her lips, her tongue, the inside of her cheek, the slight drag of her teeth on my shaft—each sensation sends shivers along my spine. And her eyes, looking up at me from my lap, are the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.
It’s quick and perfect, and after I’ve caught my breath, I drag her up my body to kiss her mouth. We taste like each other’s releases, and it’s another jolt of unexpected intimacy.
She pulls away before I’m ready and wriggles back into her underwear and pajama bottoms. “Don’t think I’m not banking the rest of those hours you owe me. Now, what else should we add to our list?”
“How can you think about lists after what we just did?” My heart is still racing, and the air saws in and out of my lungs. I barely muster the energy to slip my dick back into the borrowed shorts.
She’s already scribbling away. “You know how goal oriented I am.”
“That’s true.” I reach for her tea, which is still half full, and drain the mug.
“I’ll make more.” She starts to get up, but I wave her off.
“I’ve got it. You work on the list.”
While I’m perusing her selection of teas, the cat strolls into the kitchen and winds around my bare ankles. I hold two boxes out to him, and he bumps his head against the one in my left hand. Decaf jasmine green tea it is.
With the cat at my heels, I carry our tea back to the living room.
At the look of alarm on Torres’s face, I freeze. “What’s wrong?”
Her eyes flick over me, from the mugs to the cat rubbing against my legs, and she shakes her head quickly. “Nothing. I was just thinking.”
“About the list?”
“Um, yeah.”
I set the mugs on the coffee table and sit next to her. “What else have you written down?”
“Uh, the window displays on Fifth Avenue.”
“How unexpectedly capitalist of you.”
“Shush. Ice-skating at Wollman Rink.”
“Are we tourists?”
“It’s iconic for a reason.” She grabs a crocheted throw blanket from the back of the sofa and tucks it over our laps. “Anything you want to add?”
Before I can think twice, I say, “The Rockettes.”
She shoots me a wary look. “Is this your way of suggesting an orgy?”
That pulls a surprised laugh from me. “No, but also ... maybe? I mean the Radio City Christmas Spectacular. I used to go with my parents when I was a kid. It just wasn’t Christmas without that.”
Her expression softens, and she writes it down.
We go back and forth, adding items in both categories, when Torres introduces a new rule.
“If we both have it, we both have to do it.”
“Have what?”
“The body part. I’m not letting you make a list of things you only do to me. These are equal opportunity sexcapades, buddy.”
