She watched, too—and seemed to get nearly as much enjoyment out of watching as I did from her doing it. Okay, maybe not nearly, but the expression on her face was one of eager anticipation. “Remember the first time I did this?” she asked.
I huffed a laugh. “How could I forget?” I couldn’t help but reach out to fondle one of her breasts, and my hard-on got harder. “Backstage at that festival outside Chicago, the day we met. Backstage was fuckin’ semitrailers with makeshift lights and old couches.”
“Charlie and Crow were, like, thirty feet away, and the whole backstage area was swarming with techies and roadies and groupies and other bands.” She went slow, each stroke unhurried. “Do you have any idea how shocked I was when I got my hands on this?” She squeezed my cock as an indicator of what she meant. “I had to start out with my hands because I honestly wasn’t sure I’d even be able to get my mouth around it.”
“It’s notthatbig,” I muttered, laughing.
“Yeah-huh.”
“Nuh-uh,” I countered in faux-childish, combative tone.
She met my eyes. “Myles. Do you realize I can barely get my jaw around it? To the point that it’s, like, nearly comical.”
“I don’t find it comical at all, Lex.”
“I said ‘like nearly.'” She glanced down, where her fingers only just barely closed around my girth. “I have a small mouth and small hands, granted. But still.”
I shook my head. “You’re just trying to stroke my ego.”
“No, I’m stroking your cock. Your ego doesn’t need stroking. It’s plenty big.” When I opened my mouth to protest, she just laughed over me. “Kidding, Myles, just kidding. You’re honestly one of the most down-to-earth guys I’ve ever met, which is weird considering you’re stupid rich and world famous.”
“Not stupid rich, just stupid,” I joked.
She frowned at me. “You’re one of the smartest men I’ve ever met.”
“I was kidding, but thanks.” I was feeling it, now. The slow burn, the aching rise. The need to move, the need for more. “The first time you did this it was dark, so I couldn’t really see.”
“Now you can.” She went to one hand only, then, short twisting strokes around the head. “You like watching?”
“Fuck yeah, I do.”
“Me too.” She cupped my balls in one hand and plunged her fist down around my base, played there a while. “You’re just…you have the most perfect cock in the world, and I want to play with it literally all the time.”
I laughed, but it was through my teeth, thighs bunching, because I was really feeling it now. “In case I haven’t made it clear by now, please, I beg you, feel free to play with my cock as much as you want.” I palmed her breasts again. “It’s like how I feel about these.”
“These?” She let go of me, slid astride my thighs, and cupped her tits in both hands, squeezing them around my cock. “You like this?”
I groaned, watching my cock slide through her big pale breasts. “Fuck—fuck yeah.”
“Just don’t come on me. I’m serious. I just got clean and don’t want to have to shower again.”
I flexed my hips. “I won’t. I hope.”
“Myles, I’m serious. Don’t. I like being clean.”
I laughed. “I like you messy.”
“I’ll let you do that another time.” She released her tits, stayed sitting on my thighs as she clutched me in both hands and began pumping me in earnest now—still not fast, but steadily, slow at the top and speeding up as her fists plunged down, with that crazy-making twist of her fists at the top. “Anywhere you want.”
I gazed at her. “Are you at least going to let me return the favor?”
She shook her head. “You haven’t fed me yet.” She turned her attention to my cock, throbbing in her fists, now, aching. My hips were helpless, thrusting with a mind of their own. “Once you’re clean and we’re both dressed, you’re taking me to brunch. Maybe I’ll let you make me come once I’ve eaten.”
“Let me,” I echoed, huffing a laugh. “If I dragged you into a restaurant bathroom and started eating you out, like you’d stop me?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. You’d have try and see.”
“What if we sat in a booth and I fingered you under the table?”
