Free Seeing Red by Holley Trent

breath was a mere rasp in his ear, and her lips tugged at his fleshy lobe before letting it snap back in.
    What was she up to?
    “Okay…so let’s talk. I work in Fayetteville, so—God.”
    She’d pushed his legs open wider and had her left hand wrapped over the head of his cock. “You were saying?”
    “I can’t think when you do that.”
    A slow grin spanned her face and she shrugged. “You want me to stop touching you?”
    Was she crazy? “No. Just…if you want me to answer questions with any semblance of intelligence, you’ve got to give me some respite.”
    The other side of her mouth quirked up. “Oh.” She released his cock and pressed the wandering hand to his left thigh. With her other hand pressed on his right thigh, she held herself up a bit below his eye level and batted her lashes at him. “You were saying?”
    Witch!
    He blew out a breath and tried to ignore her left fingers creeping closer and closer to the inside of his thigh. “I work and live in Fayetteville, so what exactly did you have in mind?”
    “Dunno,” she sang in a sweet, soft, soprano voice and her fingertips grazed his sac.
    “Witch.” That time he said it out loud and didn’t care how she’d respond.
    “Oh, Sergei, I’ve been called worse.”
    He didn’t think it possible, but his balls grew even tighter and cock a bit harder at the sound of his true name coming from her lips—a name no woman he’d been intimate with in the past had whispered, much less knew.
    “Fayetteville is only an hour from Raleigh.”
    “Yes,” he conceded, closing his eyes as her lips skimmed down his chest, groaning when they paused over his left nipple. “But counting traffic…”
    He was going to say something about congestion on I-95 and the never-ending construction on I-40, but there she was, between his knees, with the ends of her long hair tickling his thighs.
    “Mm-hmm?” she hummed with her lips closing around his cockhead.
    “Wait…what were—” He gasped as she increased suction and closed his eyes.
    Concentrate.
    “What were we discussing?”
    She drew back, a pop sounding as she loosened her lips’ vacuum and rolled her eyes up to his face. “Living arrangements. We have to keep up appearances or this whole thing will end up being pointless.”
    “Oh.”
    Lowering her head once more, she made a long, slow lick around the start of his retracted foreskin that made his toes curl. “Doesn’t make sense for me to uproot Toby, so—”
    “Right, right.” He swallowed and tipped his head back, concentrating on the gold whirls painted on the otherwise white ceiling. At the rate he was going, he’d come with just a whisper near his dick. Why she had such a profound effect on him, he didn’t know. He did know he didn’t want to talk about Toby when the kid’s mother was doing some very salacious things to Seth’s family jewels. “We’ll work something out,” he concluded.
    She hummed around his cock again before dipping her head lower so supple lips teased at the base of his shaft while its head plunged oh so briefly in her throat.
    “Fuck.” Planting his hands on her shoulders, he gave her a small press backward to give his dick a reprieve.
    A sigh blew her hair from her face, and she sat back on her heels, elbows draped on her thighs, shaking her head at him. “I’d venture to guess your vodka tolerance far exceeds your sexual one.”
    Was she kidding? If he dared look at his slick cock, he’d probably lose it. With a huff, he pressed a hand over his erection, protecting it from her lascivious stares. “Lately, I drink far more than I screw, so your theory holds water.”
    Her head tilted to the side, just as it had earlier. “Would you rather be drinking right now?”
    “Don’t assume my tentativeness indicates a lack of willingness. Just give me a minute.” Take a stallion out of competition for a few months, and he’d probably lose his first few races, too.
    Some expression he couldn’t read flitted