Pleased I’ve managed to do three things at once, I relish the sounds coming from Abe’s throat. The moans and groans. Occasional thrust from his hips when I hit the sweet spot, sucking harder. Sinking onto it farther with my mouth until it hits the back of my throat, something I thought would make me choke.

It doesn’t.

High fives all around.

I don’t know how long I blow Abe; he hasn’t come yet. Hasn’t tugged on my hair or given the I’m gonna come signal. So I suck. And stroke and,

“Baby, I want to fuck you.”

I shake my head no. I want to finish him off.

“Skylar, please,” he begs.

Nope.

I’m going to blow him then he’s going down on me, and we can both fall asleep satisfied.

I’m so excited I can’t stand it.

My girl parts tingle. Get wet. I can feel it even as I go down on Abe, am conscious of the hormones building inside my body, making me crazy horny and sex-starved.

Foreplay. Is. The. Shitttt.

“Are you sure?” He interrupts me again, his big hands stroking the back of my head, fingers giving my loose strands a tug. Gentle. Still, I can feel the tension in his hands; he wants to bear down and direct but is resisting the urge.

I make a mental note to tell him he doesn’t have to be such a damn gentleman all the time. It’s okay to be dirty with me. I like it. I want it. Maybe not all the time, but occasionally would be sexy.

Then I feel it.

I feel his balls tighten in my hand, a small pulsing in the base of his cock and his murmured, “Shit, Skylar, I’m gonna…I’m gonna…” He taps on my shoulder, the universal sign for Stop blowing me, I’m gonna come.

But I don’t stop because I’m going to swallow that semen if it’s the last thing I do. I’m not a spitter; I refuse to be a quitter.

Damn, I should put that on a t-shirt and sell it—bet I’d make a fortune.

“Fuck, Skylar, fuck…”

Abe’s abs constrict, his lower half jerking when he comes inside my mouth, the moan emanating from his chest a bit guttural.

“Oh fuck…”

I’m surprised to discover I don’t taste it when he comes inside my mouth; it goes straight down my throat and never touches my tongue.

Huh. Who knew?

Lifting my head, I brush away the strands of hair that fell into my face when my head was bent and reach over to kiss his mouth. Our lips lock, his hand at the back of my neck, pulling me in, deepening the kiss.

Our tongues entwine. Wet. Hot. Kisses.

“Your turn,” he tells me. “Lie down.”

“Are you sure…” I feign protest.

His hands wrestle with my waist, taking me to the mattress. Give me a yank to position me, my head up near the headboard. Slowly, he eases his way down my body, arms braced on either side of me, raining kisses on my skin along the way.

Column of my neck. Kiss.

Collarbone. Kiss.

The valley between my breasts. Kiss.

My stomach. Kiss.

Belly button. Kiss.

His warm breath kisses my skin, too. Mouth opening when he’s down between my legs, the tingling I felt earlier intensifying to a satisfying burn. God, I want his mouth there so bad it aches.

Throbbing. Aching. Need.

If there was ever such a thing…

I gasp loudly—a half moan, half gasp—when his tongue dips into my slit.

“Your pussy tastes so fucking good.”

It does?

Thank God. I mean, how the hell does a girl even know what it tastes like? I did make sure not to eat anything gross today, like tuna fish salad or seafood or whatever, haha. Just loads of fresh fruit. In the event Abe decided to go down on me.

His tongue goes deeper. His lips suck harder. He uses a bit of teeth and I moan, unable to stop the loud sound from filling the bedroom.

I’m unable to keep my hips from gyrating, wanting it deeper and harder but unable to control him.

Abe spreads my legs, pushing them wider with his big, gorgeous, sexy hands. Keeping them spread with wide shoulders. The thumb on his right hand finding my clit and pressing down like it’s a hot button.

It feels incredible.

It feels like I never want it to stop, but I want to come so fucking bad. I don’t, though.

But I do, “Oh god Abe don’t stop.”

Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t ever, ever stop.

Abe growls like a caveman, bearing down and finishing me off as if his goddamn life depends on it. Leaving me lying there, lower half shuddering.

All is right with the world.

The first knock on Abe’s bedroom door comes around twelve-thirty in the morning, an unobtrusive rap that wakes us from a sex-dazed nap. Abe is sprawled out, flat on his back in the middle of his bed, and I lie sated, snuggled up next to him.

The second knock isn’t as tolerant. Full knuckled.

The third? Slightly aggressive.

Banging fist.

“What the hell?”

Abe and I both stir, stopping short when the doorknob rattles and his roommate’s voice booms through the wood.

“Dude. Why is your door locked? Are you cranking one out?” JB rattles the knob again, trying to jiggle it free.

I roll my eyes at his crude terminology for masturbating but otherwise lie perfectly still.

Waiting.

“What’s up?” Abe calls out, pulling the blanket over our naked bodies. What’s the point of getting dressed when you’re only going to have sex again?

“Fucker, open the door so I can tell you.”

“I’m naked.” It’s not a lie, and I snake my hand beneath the covers to gently grip his dick. Mmm, mine.

“So?” Jack’s voice is impatient on the other side of the door; I can almost hear him sigh. “I’ve seen your hairy balls before.”

Abe does not have hairy balls.

“What do you want, Jack?”

“I want you to open the fucking door. Duh.”

“Whatever it is, I’m sure it can wait.”

“Why aren’t you opening the goddamn door?”

Abe’s patience frays. “What the fuck, JB. Lay off—I said we could talk in the morning.” He shoots me a frustrated nod. “I don’t know what his problem is.”

“Uh—he’s drunk. That’s what his problem is.” And according to my boyfriend, if he finds us in post-coital bliss, he’s likely to have a coronary.

JB continues to bang like a petulant child who’s been locked out of the bathroom while his mother tries to take a pee in private.

“I have to open the door.”

“Uh. No you don’t,” Abe replies.

He’s already half off the bed, pulling on his pants. To me he says, “You have to hide.”

“Oh my god, I am not hiding. This is ridiculous. If you wait patiently, he’ll go away.”

“No he won’t—it’s going to drive him crazy that I’m not unlocking my door.”

“It’s not like he’s going to come in the window.”

“The window! Great idea.” He starts gathering my clothes and tossing them at me, article by article until I’m frowning, bra hitting my chest. “Put that on.”

Instead, I throw it back down to the floor. “What the hell, Abe? I am not going out the window!”