Show and Tell by Jasmine Haynes Page B

his normal routine. He’d stroked while a lady sucked, but he’d never stood in front of her and performed. He had an inkling of how she’d felt that first night, but for him it was so damn good to have her watch that he risked coming with one pass of his hand.
     
     
    “Whatever you want.” Wrapping his fist around himself, he slowly pumped, his eyes never leaving her. He drank in the flush riding up her skin, the sexual sheen in her blue irises, her tongue darting out to wet her lips. She might be one-upping him, but she was into watching as much as he’d been.
     
     
    A drop of pre-come dribbled from his crown. Coating his palm, he used it for lubrication. He wanted to go down on his knees for her. Needed her to touch him, suck him, more. For now, all he had was her avid gaze.
     
     
    She pulled her lower lip between her teeth and inhaled deeply. “How long does it take you to come?”
     
     
    He snorted out a breath. “With you watching, two seconds.”
     
     
    Glancing up to his face, she said, “Then you better slow down. We don’t want this to be over too soon.” Then she dropped her gaze once more to his cock. “I like watching,” she murmured.
     
     
    He loved that she did. He felt his orgasm build in his balls and backed off, slowing his stroke and easing his grip. “That better?”
     
     
    She wriggled across the bed, closer, somehow miraculously keeping her breasts from his hungry eyes. Propped on her elbows, her arms folded in front of her, she settled in for a bird’s-eye view. He wanted her touch, but he’d take what he could get right now, even if it was only her total fascination.
     
     
    “Much better,” she murmured. “I’ve always wondered how a man did it when he was on his own. You kind of twist your hand, not just straight up and down. And you don’t do it as fast as I’d thought you’d have to.”
     
     
    He laughed, a deep sound straight from the gut. “And I’ve never had a woman analyze the technique.”
     
     
    Trinity had never analyzed anything about sex before. But he was beautiful, thick, big, hard. He was perfect, with strong thighs she wanted to hold onto as she watched every single moment of his rise to orgasm. She’d always been remote, never doing a man with her hand. It wasn’t dignified, and what did you do with . . . the mess? Nor had she taken anyone all the way with her mouth. What if she hated the man’s taste? What bothered her was all the cleanup, the aftermath, fixing her lipstick, making herself presentable again. How could you make a man think you were perfect when you had to take care of the unpleasant details?
     
     
    Yet she’d missed so many delicious sensations.
     
     
    Watching Scott was . . . earthy. Like Tarzan and Jane doing it deep in the jungle with fresh rain falling and the scent of green growing things all around them. As he slowly stroked, another bead of juice seeped from the tip. The emotions rolling through her mind and body weren’t remotely like her, certainly not the person she’d been for thirty years. But a little over a week ago, her world, everything she’d thought she believed, wanted, and trusted in had turned upside down. Now, more than anything, Trinity needed to know how Scott would taste on her tongue.
     
     
    Close enough to touch, she ran her finger across his crown. Sucking in his breath, his penis surged, and he pumped faster.
     
     
    Trinity licked her finger, Scott groaned, and her taste buds went into overload. Closing her eyes, she held his flavor on her tongue, savored him. Salty and sweet combined for a slight zest.
     
     
    Then she raised her eyes to meet his gaze. “You taste good,” she whispered.
     
     
    His lids half closed, a muscle rippled in his jaw. “That,” he murmured, “made me crazy.” His look ate her up like an expensive chocolate truffle. Then he went down on his knees in front of her. “Do it again.”
     
     
    Gathering another luscious bead, she locked gazes with