“Good,” he says. “Because I have dessert at my place.”
I make a face of mock horror. “Going back to your place on the first date? Mr. Andrews, you’re very scandalous.”
“So is that dress.”
I nod, giving him the point and finish the last of my wine. “Okay. I’ll come to your place, but no promises about dessert because I’m already bursting.”
He chuckles. “Fair enough.”
Cole’s apartment is everything that I imagined it would be.
In a sleek high-rise downtown, it has the minimalist, masculine feel of a bachelor pad along with million dollar views and expensive furnishings. The living room is warm and open, golden wood and deep colors. There’s a fireplace that I bet would be amazing during the cooler winter nights, and a few chairs I can imagine curling up in with a book. I could live in a place like this. I can even imagine Brownie here. “Make yourself at home,” Cole says, shedding his suit jacket.
I kick off my shoes. They’re the highest heels I own and it’s a miracle that I hadn’t already chucked them in the garbage at the restaurant.
“Those are hot as fuck,” Cole says. “And I imagine they hurt like fuck too.”
“You have no idea.”
He tugs me onto the couch and pulls my feet into his lap. “Luckily, I’m very good at this.” Digging his thumb into the ball of my foot, Cole massages the pain away. It feels good and terrible at the same time.
I groan. “You are good at that.”
“Just think, you could be eating pie while I do this.”
“Nope,” I pat my stomach. “Still too full of pasta to even think about eating anything. But I’m glad there’s pie for later. It’ll be a good midnight snack.”
There’s a sparkle in his eye, “Will you still be here at midnight?”
“I don’t know. Will I?”
He smirks. “I guess I’ll have to see.”
The way he’s rubbing my feet suddenly changes. It’s no longer meant to relax. It’s meant to arouse. I smile coyly at him, a thought I had the other day popping back into my head. “Speaking of dessert. There’s something that I want a taste of.”
I crawl across the couch to him, covering his lips with mine. Our tongues dance and I let my body slide down his, fitting myself between his knees. I make quick work of his belt, pulling down his boxers and freeing his cock. It’s already hard, standing straight up. I look up at him, pointedly licking my lips, and I see it click.
“You don’t have to do that,” he says.
“I know. I want to,” I say, pressing my lips to the tip of him. “I want to taste you.”
I don’t let him argue, plunging down onto his cock with one fast stroke. Cole swears under his breath, and I laugh, and then hum. I know my sounds will tease him, especially with his tip so close to my throat. Sucking back up the length of him, I release, dipping my head down lower. I make sure he’s watching when I use my tongue on his balls. I love the way his eyes go wide when I take them completely into my mouth, sucking them away from his body.
I love the way his skin feels under my tongue as I lick my way back to the tip, tasting the salt already gathering there. Sealing my lips over him, I use everything I’ve got. I swirl my tongue around the head, drawing shapes on him and stroking the sensitive underside. Cole’s hand finds its way into my hair, and I know that’s a good sign. His breathing is shallow and quick, eyes closed and jaw clenched. So I finish him.
Taking him deep, I dive down onto his cock again and again, letting the tip brush my throat. I swallow while my nose is pressed down on his stomach, squeezing him. And when it becomes too much for him to take, I let him drive the rhythm, both his hands tangled in my hair, forcing me down deep. His hips jerk up to meet my face, but I don’t let go. He’s close, I can tell.
Driving myself all the way down, I swallow again, and I feel him go rigid underneath me. I pull back just in time to catch his cum on my tongue, savoring the rich salty flavor, and swallowing it whole. I wasn’t lying when I said I wanted to taste him. There’s something about tasting another person—you know exactly who they are.