Served Hot by Annabeth Albert Read Free Book Online Page B

close, and I cared more about tipping him over the edge than about easing my own discomfort. I took him all the way to the root again, holding him there and swallowing hard around him.
    “Jesus.” That trick got him moaning loud and clenching my hair. Almost there. Anticipation raced through me, and I pulled back only enough to get a quick breath before diving deep, this time milking him with my throat until he groaned, his voice Barry White deep. Needing air, I slid back up, working the base with my hand while I sucked hard on the tip. That did it. A couple of quick pulls and he came on a stream of curses and full-body shudders. He tasted salty and musky and perfectly male, and it took everything I had not to join him in shooting.
    “Oh. My. Word.” Yup. There was my quaint dude again. Offering me a hand, he hauled me up next to him. “Wasn’t expecting that when I unlocked the door.”
    “Complaining?” I kissed him under the ear.
    “Never.”
    “What were you expecting?” Still concrete-pylon hard, I rocked against him. “I take requests.”
    “Yeah?” His voice still sounded rough.
    “Totally. Whatever you want.” Even though he’d come, I still wanted to indulge him. I didn’t think he’d be up for anything too kinky—and even if he was, I was turned on enough to be down with just about anything he could dream up. Now that I’d handled his impressive dick, what I really wanted was to fuck, but I wasn’t sure if that would be too much, too fast for him.
    But if he asked? Oh, hell yes, I’d wait for him to get hard again.
    His eyes took on a half-lidded, dreamy look. “This way.”
    Taking my hand, he led me through the sea of beige, down a narrow hallway and into his bedroom, which was a study in gray—gray comforter, gray carpeting, gray curtains. Someone needed to get this man some aqua throw pillows or something. And look at me, not even in his place fifteen minutes and already redecorating. A laugh escaped my throat.
    “What?” he whispered, looking at me like I was the winning lottery ticket. The giggle died in my throat. I didn’t think anyone had ever looked at me as reverently as he did right then.
    “Nothing.” The word was little more than a breath. I reached for the hem of my T-shirt.
    “No. Let me. That’s what I want.” Skimming his hands down my sides, he gently pushed my hands aside.
    “Sure.”
    Undressing me slowly, he pulled off my shirt, then folded it. I bit my lip to keep a smile back. His broad palm skimmed down my back, a meandering trail of heat. Dropping a soft kiss on my collarbone, he stroked my chest. Judging by his little smile, he liked my smooth look. In my case, it was genetic, not a waxing studio, and personally, I much preferred fuzzier men like David. He unzipped my pants but didn’t go for my aching dick. Instead he motioned for me to kick free of them.
    “I just . . . want to look at you.” He took a half step backward and tilted his head, like I was a snapshot he’d been waiting to capture and couldn’t quite figure out the angle.
    “That all?” My dick strained against the stretchy cotton of my boxer briefs. The disco-beat thrum of my pulse made it hard to stay still.
    “Well . . . not all. ”
    “Good.” Stretching up, I captured his mouth in a soft kiss. I pulled at his shirt. “You gonna let me return the favor?”
    “Sure.”
    Removing his clothes was more of a joint effort—him pulling things off and me running my hands over every bit of exposed skin. His dark hair contrasted with his pale skin. As I’d suspected, he had a decent pelt of chest hair smattered across his pecs, then a thicker trail down his stomach. It crinkled against my palm, but his gasp was even more gratifying. Like me, he didn’t exactly have gym-rat muscles, but he had a lot of lean definition that created interesting lines and places to kiss.
    Somehow we collapsed together onto the bed, both still in our underwear. We kissed for several long minutes, a slow