Sure Thing(13)

by Jana Aston

“No.” I shake my head. “No one’s asked.”

A hint of a smile pulls at his lips and he shakes his head as the lock clicks and he pushes the door open.

“Well then, that was an incredibly honest answer.”

“I’m usually a very honest person,” I tell him, and yes, I hear exactly how that sounds after the words are already out of my mouth.

“So you’re usually an honest person.” He examines me with interest as he flips the keycard onto the dresser. It slides across the surface and comes to a stop when it hits the base of a lamp.

“I’m not married, Jennings. Not engaged, not anything. I just get off on you calling me ‘love.’ I’ve got a fetish for all things British, that’s all there is to it.” I’m such a liar. At least most of that was true. I do enjoy it when he calls me ‘love.’ It’d be even better if he called me Violet, but I’m working with the cards I’ve been dealt right now.

“So you’d have said yes to any idiot who asked then?” He’s back to that.

“Why are you assuming I date idiots?” Rude asshole. It’s true, but still rude. He raises a brow to challenge my denial and I glare at him for a moment before speaking again. “I was merely answering your question, Jennings,” I reply in a bit of a huff. “You asked if I was married and I was detailing how not married I am by explaining to you that no one’s asked.”

“Well, I’m glad no one’s asked, love.”

“Um, thanks?” I reply, throwing him a look. “I’m sure marriage is a big joke to you, playboy, but it means something to some of us.”

“I hadn’t meant to imply it doesn’t mean anything to me.” He frowns. “Only that I’m glad you’re unattached and here with me.” He closes the foot separating us and brushes my hair back as he runs his lips down the side of my neck. “Very glad,” he murmurs into my ear.

“Yeah, me too,” I agree a moment before he covers my mouth with his own and I forget what we were even talking about. Damn him and his magic mouth. My entire body is warm and relaxed and I’m melting into him, my fingers snaking under his shirt to his chest. I’m happy I decided another round with him was a good idea.

“Now.” He breaks the kiss and taps my bottom lip with his finger. “I want these lips on my cock, love.”

I pause for a moment, too drunk on his lips to realize what he’s just said. Then I swipe my lips with my tongue and gather my hair over my shoulders. “Did you just order me to suck your dick?” Holy crap, why does that make me so hot? I’m torn between glaring at him out of principle and begging him to say it again. I’m leaning heavily towards the begging.

“I did.” He’s blatant in his reply.

I eye his shirt, some vintage-looking concert tee from a band I’ve never heard of, but the way it lies across his chest has been distracting me all day. I push the hem up his chest until he takes over and flings it over his head, then I place my palms on his skin and lean in. “Say it again,” I murmur, because yeah, I liked hearing it.

He grins as he lifts my blouse over my head then stops to fondle my tits over my bra. “Knees, love. I want to feel your warm, wet mouth wrapped around me. I want to see how much of me you can take and then I’ll dig my hands into your hair and urge you to take just a little bit more, slide just a little bit deeper, suck a little bit harder.”

I’ve dropped to my knees before he’s finished speaking and I’m working his belt free, keeping watch on him from under my lashes. I pop the button of his jeans and yank the material to his knees without moving my eyes from his. Then I lean forward and kiss his flat abdomen while working my hands into his briefs and around him, pushing the fabric down as I do. And then I lose all my game.

“Oh!” I blurt out in surprise, hand still wrapped around his cock. I release him and sit back on my heels and look up. “What do I do with it?”

“What do you do with it?” He’s looking at me like I’ve just claimed I’m a virgin.

“I’ve only seen regular dick before,” I say with a shrug. I can’t believe this escaped my attention the other night, but in my defense I never really got a look at it.

“Regular dick,” he repeats with his posh British accent and a smirk, brow raised.

“You know, like the fixed kind? Um, circumcised!” I finally find the correct word and bounce on my heels a little while glancing between him and his dick.

“You American girls.” He laughs while sliding his palm over the length of his cock and back again. I’m not sure if I should be grateful I’m not the first girl to be confused, or pissed off that this has happened to him enough to be a thing.

“I assure you it works quite the same,” he tells me while he strokes himself and his cock hardens.

Okay then, hard it does look exactly the same. I feel weirdly proud of myself for adding this experience to my sexual bucket list as I wrap my hand around his cock. I bet Daisy’s never seen an uncircumcised penis. I’m certain of it actually, because she’d have told me about it if she had. Every detail, with hand gestures and a funny name for the guy. So I win this one. Twin win! I think as I try not to laugh. We used to say that to each other when one of us beat the other at something. I totally twin-win this one and I’m feeling pretty darn smug about it. Until Jennings asks why I’m laughing. While holding his cock in my hand.

“I’m just proud of myself,” I tell him.

“For sucking my cock?”

“I mean, I wouldn’t have articulated it quite like that, but sorta.”

“So how much can you take then? If you’re so proud?”

“Whoa.” I hold up my other hand. “Don’t get too excited. I can’t deep-throat or anything.” I shrug. “But I think I’m fairly decent at this. Hold on, let me focus.” I slide my emergency elastic band off my wrist and gather my hair back into a pony.

“Are you serious right now?”

“What? It gets in the way. That is how dedicated I am to giving you a great blow job,” I add as I finish with my hair and wrap my hand around him again.

“Are you worried you’re going to be made redundant?”

“Make me redundant,” I purr. “Is that British dirty talk coming out of your mouth?”

“Not quite, no.” He shakes his head and the skin around his eyes creases in amusement.

“I take pride in my work, Jennings. In all things.” I look up at him from under my lashes as I stroke my hand up and down the length of him slowly, back and forth. He’s thick and heavy in my hand and my mouth waters at the anticipation of wrapping my lips around him. “Anything else I should know about your special dick?” I ask a moment before dragging my tongue up the underside of his cock, my movements slow but sure.

“Fuck,” he hisses while twisting my pony into his hand to maneuver me to his liking. “No, I think you’ve got it.”

I wrap my lips around him and swirl my tongue over the tip while rotating my hand around the length I can’t reach with my mouth. His groan tells me I’m doing okay. As I bob my head over him I mentally pat myself on the back for having a few magic mouth skills of my own before I stop thinking of anything but pleasing this man. He tugs my hair and angles my head to the side so he can better watch me suck him off. The look of lust in his eyes fuels me and I’m tempted to touch myself but I’m more interested in touching him. Besides, I’d rather let Mr. Magic Mouth take care of me when I’m done, and I know for certain he will. Multiple times. That’s what he promised me in the lobby and I don’t doubt he’ll deliver.



There’s no such thing as a bad blow job—at least there’s never been one in my life. Some are more memorable than others certainly, but a woman with a willing mouth can’t fail. And this girl is enthusiastic. And likely prefers drinking through a straw. Sweet Jesus.

She squeezes the length of me that her mouth can’t reach with her hand, her wrist rotating with dexterity and her eyes not leaving mine until she withdraws my cock from her mouth with an audible pop. She dips her head and drags her tongue up the length of me from base to tip and makes me feel like a teenager worried about blowing my load too soon.

This girl, she charms me with her combination of naïveté and enthusiasm. The way she blurted out her proposition the first night with false bravado but then rode me with her hair tumbling over her shoulders and her eyes simmering with lust. How she sat back on her heels tonight asking me what to do with my cock then gathered her hair up as if she was getting ready to go on a jog before diving in with the eagerness of a professional.

The way she scowls at me during the day then laughs during sex with no regard for trying to appear sexy. She is sexy, possibly the sexiest woman I’ve had the pleasure of being with. But she’s not trying to be. She just is, her combination of cautiousness and bravery intoxicating.

As is her mouth. Intoxicatingly soft. Enticingly warm. Blissfully wet. I urge her lower with a slight tilt of the hand I have wrapped around her ponytail and she gags slightly but keeps going. Like I said, enthusiasm is everything. She eases back then squeezes the base of my cock tighter with her fingers and slides me deeper than I’d have thought she’d be able to.