Ryan
My fingers wind through Aviva’s hair as she kneels, rising on her knees. I should tell her to stop. A very small, insignificant part of me is begging to haul her upright and service her first, like a gentleman, but under the haze of the dim lighting and thrum of music vibrating up through the floor, I’m not feeling very gentlemanly.
My eyes flutter closed at the sensation of her hands pressing against my thighs, her nails pinching my skin. This has to be some kind of dream state. My entire body jerks as her tongue glides up my shaft a second time in a slow, drawn out taste. She’s testing me. I know if I open my eyes, she’ll be looking up at me with that whiskey gaze that will have me spilling myself on her chest within seconds, and she hasn’t even fully taken me in her mouth yet.
