“There you go again, viewing the world through the eyes of a closet romantic,” he said, his hand cupping my jaw. “Don’t pretend I’m something I’m not. I just want you to be comfortable so you can suck my c**k as long as I want.”
Why did men always feel the need to disguise their softer side? Whatever. What he’d done was sweet, and I chose to ignore his brutish take on the matter.
Between the o****m and alcohol, my hands barely trembled as I undid his pants. I’d never been this close to a man’s p***s. And judging by the impressive bulge pressing against Conner’s zipper, he was enormous.
A flood of self-doubt tried to convince me I had no idea what I was doing and was about to embarrass myself beyond redemption. Still, an equally relentless surge of curiosity demanded I stay the course. I
