Chapter 17 #2
When I finally wrestle his jeans and boxers down, I stop to take in the sight of him. Jesus. He’s gorgeous. Thick, hard, flushed, and mine to touch. My mouth actually waters.
But then I spot the detail. Uncircumcised. Huh. That’s new. All my exes were cut.
“Interesting,” I murmur, and before he can so much as blink I’m wrapping my fingers around his cock and exploring the way the skin shifts under my touch.
He sucks in a sharp breath. “Christ, Blair... you’re not shy, are you?”
“Nope.” I grin up at him, cheerful as anything, and keep going. The skin is softer than I expected, warm and slick, and I’m fascinated by how every little stroke makes him twitch and groan.
When a bead of pre-cum glistens at the tip, I drag my thumb across it just to see what he’ll do. The low, broken sound that rumbles out of him is pure sin.
But then his big hand clamps around my wrist, halting me.
I raise an eyebrow. “Hey, I was just starting to have fun down here! And don’t even try to pretend you’re not enjoying this. Trust me, Captain, I can feel how much you are.”
“I’m enjoying it too much,” he growls, his accent thicker now. “It’s been years, Blair. If you keep going, I’ll lose it right here. Leave my cock alone and let me taste you.”
He makes quick work of my leggings and panties then guides me back onto the bed. When he settles between my thighs, I brace for him to be frantic, as desperate as his kisses.
But instead, he slows down. His big hands spread my pussy open, his thumbs parting me with maddening care, and the look on his face makes my breath hitch. He’s studying me like I’m some treasure he’s been denied for years.
“Beautiful,” he murmurs, and then his head dips.
The first stroke of his tongue rips a cry out of me. That mouth that’s been so stingy with smiles, so quick with sharp words—God, it knows exactly what to do to my pussy. He licks and sucks and teases until I’m writhing, fists buried in his hair.
He eats me like a starving man, like he can’t get enough, tongue flicking over my clit until I’m babbling his name. The noises spilling out of me are obscene, but I don’t care.
His grip tightens on my thighs, holding me open for him as I climb higher. His breathing grows rougher, punctuated by deep, guttural sounds that vibrate against my slick flesh, until I can’t hold back any longer.
When I come, crying out his name, his fingers dig into me hard enough to bruise. I feel the scrape of his teeth as he groans against me, his whole body trembling like he’s unravelling right along with me.
For a second I just lie there, dazed. Then my brain catches up. Wait... did he?—
“Hang on.” I prop myself up, panting, and glance down between us. Sure enough, his cock is twitching, a creamy bead glistening at the tip. “Oh my God. Did you...?”
Colour rushes up his neck, flooding his cheeks. I can’t stop the grin that spreads across my face.
“That’s kind of hot,” I tell him. “Proof of how much you wanted me. Who knew Captain Grumpypants could lose control like that?”
He groans, mortified, but I tug him up beside me anyway. My eyes snag on the bead of cum still clinging to him, and I don’t even think. I just lean down and lick it away, tasting salt and him.
His hips twitch and he makes a broken sound. His cock is starting to soften now, and I watch with interest as his foreskin slides forward, covering him. Curiosity sparks, and I press a kiss to the soft, velvet skin.
“Christ!” he gasps.
“Interesting.” I pull his foreskin back and kiss the head directly.
This time his hips jerk, and his moan is low and guttural. I laugh softly. “Even more interesting. Who knew foreskins could be this much fun?”
He gives me a roguish smile. “Trouble. Pure trouble, that’s what you are, Blair.”
But for the first time since I’ve known him, Lachlan Munro looks completely relaxed—wrecked, but relaxed. And I have to admit, I kind of love being the one responsible for it.
Grinning like an idiot, I curl into his warmth. He gathers me close without a second thought.
For a few minutes, neither of us says anything. We just lie there, bodies tangled, catching our breath. I’m still floating, replaying every filthy, wonderful second.
Then Lachlan’s phone buzzes on the nightstand. He reaches for it immediately, glances at the screen, then goes rigid.
“It’s Douglas,” he mutters, already swiping to answer. “What’s wrong? Is Finn all right?”
I push up onto an elbow. His voice is clipped, urgent, like he’s bracing for disaster. Has losing his wife conditioned him to always expect the worst?
But Douglas’s reply, faint but clear in the quiet room, is calm. “Nothing’s wrong! Finn just wanted to say good night.”
And then Finn’s small voice: “Night, Da. Love you.”
Lachlan exhales, shoulders sagging. “Love you too, lad. Sleep well.”
He ends the call and sits on the edge of the bed, naked, staring at nothing. The silence stretches.
“This was a mistake,” he says roughly. “A terrible mistake. I’m your boss. I had no right?—”
“Relax.” I sit up beside him. “There’s no HR department here.” My gaze drops: his cock is fully soft now, lying heavy against his balls. I give it a little poke like I’m testing if an avocado is ripe. “Pretty sure you’re safe from a sexual harassment complaint.”
But he doesn’t laugh. Instead, he drags a hand over his face. “You’re my son’s nanny, Blair. This can’t happen again. Ever.”
The words knock the wind out of me. Heat prickles my skin, and not in a good way. Great. Best orgasm of my entire life, and now he’s acting like we just opened Pandora’s box.
I want to laugh at the absurdity. How could something that felt so right be wrong? But the laugh won’t come. Because the truth is, I don’t want that to have been a one-time thing. Not now I’ve felt what it’s like to be wanted with that kind of hunger.