Chapter 15 #2
“What?” When I look down, he’s got the number pulled up for the local garden center. Oh.
“Call them.”
“Right now?” With PJ holding the phone out, I realize I hadn’t truly forgotten. I hadn’t wanted to call them to explain that I have to cancel my order because my wife is dead.
Even though I’d rather not, I take the phone. Better to get it over with, I suppose.
As I hit Send on the call, PJ steps between my legs and slowly lowers to his knees. He reaches out to work on my zipper, making my heart hammer.
“What the hell are you doing?” I ask through gritted teeth as the call rings.
He can’t possibly be thinking what it looks like he’s… No. That would be… “PJ, no.”
PJ’s wink promises all sorts of filthy things. “Would you believe I’ve never given a blow job before? I think I should practice. Better make it a quick call, though. Could get awkward.”
Things are already awkward. As a young woman answers and I stumble through explaining what I need, PJ exposes my hard length and begins to run his tongue experimentally along the shaft.
He’s completely deranged. So am I for going along with it.
Part of me wants to hate him for this, but the truth is it’s hotter than hell.
Humiliation can be strangely arousing, sort of like almost getting caught.
This phone call is a two-for-one special.
Nobody wants to be the pervert who’s moaning and heavy breathing on a phone call with the place where they’ve purchased their tomato plants.
As soon as I’m put on hold, I let out the world’s longest moan. “You’re going to fucking kill me,” I whisper. God, I hope the fact that I can’t hear anyone on the other end means they can’t hear me either.
PJ grins up at me from the floor, where he’s lazily stroking me. He maintains eye contact with me as he licks again and again, as if I’m an ice cream cone that’s starting to drip. I’m about to tell him how good it feels when someone comes back on the line.
“Mr. Leslie?”
I nearly choke on my breath. This happens all the time. Leslie was Marina’s last name. Neither of us changed our names when we got married. I write my books under the name Fallon Leslie, because she was the one who encouraged me to start.
PJ chooses that moment to wrap his lips around me and swallow almost all of me down. Oh fuck.
“Uh, yeah. Yes. Yeah.” Now I don’t even remember my actual last name.
Jesus Christ, my heart is pounding. After so much teasing, I can barely contain myself.
My muscles clench and release as I try not to thrust into him while I’m on the damn phone, but I can’t seem to stop myself.
Even though I’m speaking with a man who sounds as if he’s at least old enough to be my father.
Given the enthusiastic way PJ is diving into his first blow job, it’s not the boner killer you’d think it is.
“Bella said you’d like to cancel your upcoming delivery.”
“Y-yes. All of them. Please. Uh…” PJ’s fingers creep slowly up my inner thighs, which is making my toes scrunch up. “M-my wife passed away. I don’t garden.”
I hate telling people Marina died. And saying it while PJ is pumping his finger in and out of his mouth? Beyond weird. Weird, and wrong.
An unexpected well of anger bursts open inside me. At PJ for pushing me to do this, at myself for feeling compelled to explain something that’s nobody’s business. At the fucking nursery manager for calling me by the wrong name.
My first night with PJ flashes in my mind. The way he choked me with his cock. With stiff fingers, I grip the back of his neck and thrust forward, shoving myself into his throat.
God, he’s right. It feels fucking amazing the way his throat muscles squeeze around my tip.
“Understood, sir. I’ll take you off the schedule.”
Thank fuck. Thank fuck the guy didn’t say he was sorry for my loss or any of the other platitudes that usually come out. I might have screamed. It’s twisted enough that I’m making this call with PJ’s throat strangling my cock.
In my relief, I let go of PJ’s neck. I’m sure I’ll pay for this later. His eyes are shooting murder at me, but he only pulls off for a second before returning to his task.
“Thaa—” When PJ returns to sucking me, sliding down far enough to gag, I nearly lose it. The clench of his throat around my tip sets off that squirmy, tingly feeling that lets me know I need to get the fuck off this call before I shoot my load down PJ’s throat.
“Uh, sorry. Thank you.” I clear my throat as if some imaginary throat tickle is what caused me to stumble over my words and not an impossibly enthusiastic twenty-four-year-old applying himself to the task of sucking my dick like it’ll win him a prize.
It absolutely will, by the way. All the prizes.
My breathing picks up. I’m thrusting into PJ’s mouth with only minimal concern for either of our well-being at this point. Maybe the very first time he tries to blow a guy should be gentler, but I’m too far gone.
By the time the man on the other end wishes me a good day and hangs up? Yeah, I’m breathing too hard into the phone.
The second I hang up, PJ’s wet finger slides into my hole. I clench hard around the intrusion. A zing of sensation rushes up my spine.
The hard thrust of my hips has me buried deep in his throat again when I bellow at the top of my lungs through a mind-blowing release. At the end, I’m wrung out and spent, tired again. Crying a little, for some reason.
Sagging in the chair, my breath stutters out in ragged pants that make me wonder if I’ll ever inhale normally again. “That was… Holy shit…I can’t…”
Intense. Really fucking intense.
“Shh,” PJ murmurs. “Can’t believe you didn’t wake the puppy during all that, but let’s not tempt things. By the way, you choking me like that? Fucking hot. I’m also going to punish you for it later, though.”
Honestly, I was kind of hoping so.
He kisses me, wiping the moisture from my cheek. When his tongue sweeps into my mouth, I’m caught by how much I like the taste of myself on his tongue.
For now, though, my eyes have drifted shut, and they don’t seem to want to open.
“Come on.” PJ fixes my clothes, pulls me out of the chair, and guides me gently up to bed. He promises to keep an eye on Bruiser while I take a nap.
Funny, I don’t remember feeling this tired in forever. It hits me as I’m drifting off that I feel safe when PJ’s here. He’s younger, smaller, but everything about him tells me he won’t let anything get past him. Logical or not, my brain is willing to let me sleep when he’s here.
It’s not only that I want him. I trust him. I bite my lips together to stop myself from saying so.
To stop myself from saying, I think I’m falling in love with you.