Page 114 of Bitter’s Sweet

The first time I touch his cock, Bitter’s whole body goes rigid. He is thick and hot in my hand, and when I wrap my fingers around him, his forehead drops against mine.

“Fuck, Sweet.”

I stroke him once. His hips move into my hand before he can stop them, and that makes me smile.

“You like that?”

His rough laugh brushes my mouth. “You trying to kill me?”

“Maybe.”

“Grip tighter.”

I do.

His eyes close.

Watching Bitter lose control because of me is addictive. I stroke him again, slower, thumb brushing over the head, and his hand tangles in my hair.

“Enough.”

“Why?”

“Because if you keep touching my cock like that, this night’s gonna get real disappointing real fast.”

I laugh. “You sounded very confident five minutes ago.”

“I was confident before you put your hand on me.”

“That fragile?”

He bites my lower lip. “Keep talking.”

“I plan to.”

“I know.”

I start to move my hand again, but Bitter catches it. Then his gaze drops to my mouth.

Mine goes to his cock.

The idea arrives between us at exactly the same time.

His jaw tightens as I slide off the edge of the bed.

“Sweet.”

I look up at him. “What?”

His eyes are almost black. “You don’t owe me that.”

“I know.”

“That ain’t what this is.”

“I know.”

I kiss the hard line of his stomach, and his fingers tighten in my hair.