Versed in Desire Read Online Free PDF Page A

like you,” he growled into my mouth.
    I’d spent six months drawing him in yet holding him off, so I didn’t argue. “What?” I asked, all innocence as I took his lower lip between my teeth, then let go. “You wanted slow.”
    â€œI did,” he replied, biting me back. “Now I want you to suck my cock.”
    The sting of his teeth coupled with the time’s-up demand made me shudder. “Slow?” I asked, but I was making my way back down his chest as the word left my mouth.
    â€œYeah,” he said, and another bolt of lust crackled through me.
    I love doing this for my partner, love the bitter-almond taste of semen on my tongue, tense muscles, edgy breath, hands in my hair. I stopped at the tip of Luke’s cock, rising and falling with the blood pulsing in the protruding veins and licked the pre-come off the tip. Very deliberately I wrapped one hand around the base and pulled the straining shaft away from his belly.
    â€œCome here,” I invited, flashing a look at him.
    Together we slithered to the foot of the bed. He sat up, his legs spread and I knelt between them, my hand still gripping his cock. He absently gathered my hair in his hand, his eyes focused on the curvature of my spine leading to my bottom, resting on my heels. I waited patiently, growing hotter and hotter under his gaze. Only when his eyes met mine again did I lower my mouth to his cock and take him all the way to the back of my throat. My stretched lips met my hand where it gripped his shaft and as I retreated to the tip, I brought the hand with me. A couple of smooth strokes, then a low, rough groan eased from his chest.
    I smiled and looked up into his half-open eyes. “Still think I’m a tease?”
    â€œYou’re redeeming yourself,” he said.
    I liked the hoarse edge to his voice, but that was a big word from a man I wanted reduced to single-syllable words or grunts. With renewed determination I closed my eyes and focused, using the pressure of my teeth against the underside of my tongue to work the sensitive patch right under the head every time I took him deep. When he tensed I sat back and used my fist to stroke his saliva-slicked cock, the pressure too light to do much more than keep him at a simmer.
    It was a textbook demonstration of the power of the pause, a brief respite in performance poetry to let an image sink in. I wanted sensation to melt his bones, so I continued like this, backing off every time I felt his control slip a little more, letting him plateau for a moment before continuing. The dichotomy between the submissiveness of a blow job and the undeniable hold I had over him sent pleasure expanding through me and before long, my hips were undulating in rhythm to the pressure of his hands on my head, guiding my movements.
    His balls were tight against his body, the soft skin cool to the touch as I gathered them in one hand and moved the other in tandem with my mouth. Every muscle in his body went rigid.
    â€œEase up,” he commanded hoarsely.
    The hand in my hair pulled, a warning I appreciated but didn’t need. I could read the signs of impending orgasm. There was no give in his cock, the wet, satiny skin sliding over a thick steel rod that expanded a bare second before the first pulse of semen landed on the back of my tongue.
    He jerked, the involuntary movement punctuating the guttural groan rumbling up from the depths of his chest. In that moment I became everything, his pleasure, the need throbbing in my nipples and between my thighs, the hardness of the wood floor against my knees, the smell of sweat and sex, the tremors rippling through his body as he rode out the orgasm.
    I released him. Eyes closed, he sat for a moment, breathing hard. Then he looked at me. Sweat gleamed on his chest and shoulders and I could see his pulse pounding in his throat. More alive than I’d felt in months, I tilted my head at him, lifting an eyebrow to say, How do you