Page 40 of Up In Flames

And he slips back away from my mouth, his knees closing to keep me at a distance. But his dick is still hard and in his hand.

“Wait, that’s it?”

He quirks me a smile. “I told you that I can’t come unless I’m giving you pleasure. Well, or if I’ve just given you pleasure.”

“So, wait. You mean I can never just give you a blow job?”

“Is that a problem?”

“Maybe. I’ve never had to worry about a guy giving me more than I give back, but I could develop a complex if this continues.” Which is the truth. I like equality, and even if nothing is ever truly equal, I would prefer for it to be close. “Plus, I think that sometimes I’ll want to make you wild.”

Sampson inhales a deep breath. “Jelly Bean, you do that just by existing.”

Which may be true, but it still doesn’t feel right.

“Look, you can suck my dick for hours if you want to. I’m just not going to orgasm unless it’s inside you after you’ve come. Or unless I’ve just pleasured you… then I can come in your mouth.”

“That’s a heck of a psychological hang-up, though probably better than most of the others I can name.” The thought of his Red Room whizzes through my brain. He’s such a complex creature. I never knew that about him.

“There’s always sixty-nine,” he offers. “If you’re too sore inside, I could lie down, and you could sit on my mouth. Then we’d both be happy.”

I’ve never liked sixty-nine. I’m always afraid I’ll drill down on a guy and suffocate him, never mind worries about how much I weigh. But with Sampson… he’s large enough to take me, and strong enough to lift me up if he needs to breathe.

“Lie down.”

He’s flat before I’m even done rising to my feet. Odd how I’m no longer embarrassed to be naked in front of the giant. I’m always modest—what my friend, Sarah, calls fat-girl-modest as she describes her own aversion to being naked, even during sex. But Sampson looks at me as if I’m beautiful, and that’s the way he makes me feel. Rolls, sagging belly, breasts, hips, and all; it just feels like I’m modeling for Reubens.

“You’re so gorgeous, Jelly Bean. You’re enough to make any normal man come from just looking at you.”

Normal men. My heart twists a little at his characterization of himself. What’s he going to think once I finally disclose my thoughts on his origins? My poor, gentle giant is going to come apart.

Best to let him realize how perfect he is before that.

“I’ve got a better idea.” Getting into position takes a few moments. I have to spread my legs wider than they normally like to spread because of his bulk, and we have to take the back cushions off the couch to give me room for my knees. When that doesn’t work, he sighs, lifts me, and parks me over his mouth.

Except then I can’t reach his dick.

“New plan,” he says. In a quick motion, I’m in his arms. He carries me down to the pretty pink roses rug before sitting with his back leaning against the couch. “Remember wheelbarrow? Put your knees on the cushions and stick out your arms, hands on the floor. No, make that my thighs.”

The new position also takes a bit of maneuvering as my thighs cup his ears and he scrunches his waist. There’s a lot of laughter as I topple over, but strangely, it doesn’t take away from the desire. It adds to it.

He’s so easy to be with.

“Good girl. You’ve got this. You’re perfect, Nina. You’re a dream.”

If he wasn’t growling his appreciation, if his dick wasn’t dancing with desire, I’d end up mortified for certain at all the unladylike positions he’s putting me into while he gets me to stick my pussy in his face. Luckily, he’s strong enough to hold me against gravity once I’m finally there. I don’t take much of my weight on my arms, but in this position, with his abs crunched, I can just reach the head of his dick.

“See? Mutual pleasure. You’re so delicious.” And he buries his face in my folds. His tongue works miracles as it slides over my clit. He sucks it between his rows of teeth, the hard edges driving me wilder than the soft suction.

Right. My turn, too. I work my lips over the head of his dick, inhaling the scent of us from his skin before I suck and lick as best I can. I’m soon lost in the sensations he’s pulling from me, and I’m moaning around his flesh, the need to give as good as I get distracting me from an impending orgasm.

My core tightens. I clench, wanting him inside me, needing him to fill me, but he just keeps drawing me higher and higher with his tongue and lips and teeth, until, despite the distraction, I crest and break with a cry. I lose my grip on his thighs, but it doesn’t matter because he’s holding me up, so I wrap my hand around his shaft and focus, even as my world spins.

“Tongue out,” he says, growling into my flesh.

Just in time, I lay my tongue flat against his head. He explodes with a sharp cry, and shoots a gallon of cum into my mouth and down my throat. There’s so much, some of it drips off my lips and onto him. I try to swallow, but the volume is too great. I start to choke, but I’m so excited to be doing this for him that I try to wrap my lips around the head, to take in more, to suck him down…

Only when the last traces finish do I realize why I feel it when he comes inside me. The volume is incredible. There’s so much of his seed, I don’t think there’s enough birth control in the world to fight what he produces.