11. Landon
LANDON
Kissing.
Kissing was . . . good. Dean’s lips on mine, on my neck, on that sensitive spot where it met my shoulder, all were perfect.
I’d never really understood the draw of vampires as a kid, but suddenly, with Dean’s lips on my skin, teeth so close to my throat—teeth that could easily grow long and sharp, suddenly it made sense. That tiny bit of danger was so sexy.
Plus there was the notion of someone who needed you entirely. Would die without you there to . . . well, to feed him. A little less sexy when it could actually be anyone with blood, but the idea was still there.
After all, he was here with me, not just anyone.
He’d chosen to be with me.
He liked me.
The whole day had been a revelation of epic proportions. It was possible to have a romantic connection with someone and . . . and maybe be friends with them too.
His lips trailed over my clavicle, setting my skin aflame and making me want to ignore all dating conventions about not sleeping together right away. How many guys even paid attention to that anyway?
Still, after a moment he pulled back, smiling, and cupped my cheek in one hand. “So, coffee. Coffee sounds good.”
I went to the counter to start the machine, and he followed me, leaving a hand on first my side, and then when I got the machine running, cups at the ready, sliding up and down my ribs.
He tugged me back over toward him. “Not that all I want is to make out with you,” he muttered, “but I really want that.”
I couldn’t hold back my return smile at the very idea. “I’m not stopping you.”
He dove back into my neck, nibbling along the super sensitive skin, his stubble scraping swathes of skin, making me shiver and lean hard on the countertop behind me. When his lips reached my earlobe, I was all set to shake out of my own body, and then he whispered, “Let me taste you.”
I could have died, right there in that moment.
Instead, I awkwardly muttered, “T-taste?”
He pulled away again, which was the last thing I wanted, but he ran his callused fingers up and down my neck again, and I leaned into him as he met my eye and said, “I mean I want to blow you. Can I?”
I . . . had literally never been asked anything like that before in my life. Oh, not that I’d never had a blowjob. Just . . . no one had ever asked. Geoff had always assumed his presence in my bed was a gift in itself, and I wanted anything he felt like giving me. Not that he’d been wrong.
Just, this was sweet. Caring like Geoff had never been.
Barely able to catch a breath, I nodded and hoped that would be enough.
Apparently it was, because he grinned that grin that showed all of his teeth, that made me feel like prey, and dropped to his knees.
He attacked my fly like it was the last obstacle between him and everything he’d ever wanted in his life, tearing it open so quick I’d have worried about claws if it hadn’t been over before I really understood what was happening.
Before I could even process what I was seeing, he’d tugged the band of my underwear down, pulling my cock out and, licking his lips, swallowed the reddened tip.
I gasped with shock at the sensation. I was already hard, obviously—a gorgeous man had been kissing me. But that was . . . his tongue was perfection, hot and slick and incredible as he wrapped it around me.
How had I ever lived without this?
He pressed down onto me, the pressure of his lips sheer torture, and then . . . then, there was a strange vibration, echoing through my whole body, and it almost set me off right then, as he’d barely gotten started.
Was he . . . ? He was. He was purring.
With my cock halfway down his throat, sliding up and down on me, he was purring.
He glanced up and met my eyes, his own dark and wet, as he slid himself down all the way, burying his nose in my groin and swallowing, his throat pressing in around the head of my cock, the vibrations of his purrs filling my whole body.
I threw my head back, squeezing my eyes shut—couldn’t look at him doing that, or I’d explode right then.
It didn’t matter. All I could picture in my mind’s eye was Dean on his knees in front of me, his lips wrapped around me, so beautiful that it almost hurt to look at him.
“I’m . . . I can’t . . .” I couldn’t even warn him properly that I was about to come, and he should—but no. If anything, he seemed to take my struggle as encouragement, and redoubled his efforts.
Electricity zinged through my whole body.
I could barely breathe as I seized up, orgasm ripping out of me as I came down his throat, hot and hard.
Instead of pulling off, sputtering that I hadn’t warned him, he wrapped his arms around the backs of my legs and pulled me in tighter, swallowing over and over as I jolted with the sensation.
When I let out a whimper and tapped his shoulder, overstimulated and ready to beg him to stop as soon as I could once again find words, he pulled back immediately. Like he could read my mind and knew what I needed.
He leaned away, still holding onto my legs and massaging the backs of my thighs with firm, smooth circles, but letting his head fall back so that he could squint up at me. A lazy smile played across his lips as he licked them, looking like the cat that got the cream.
Heh.
He lifted an eyebrow, so I bit my lip and shrugged. “Just thinking you look like the cat that got the cream.”
His smile went wicked, and he put my cock away and zipped my pants almost without looking at them. “I do love cream,” he said, his voice a low, sexy growl. Then he pushed up and motioned behind us. “In my coffee, too.”
Coffee.
Fuck me, I’d forgotten.
Trembling, I turned back to the coffee maker, which was finished. He stepped in close behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist, whispering into my ear. “Back out to the living room, then? I wanted to finish telling you about that book.”
Just like that. No quid pro quo. No pressure. No worries.
I could get used to this life.