I feel a rush of heat between my legs, thinking about how hard he is. Damn. I already had an orgasm and now I’m wet again, ready again. I squeeze my eyes shut, and I don’t know what I feel. If I’m ashamed, or excited, or both.

He kisses my eyelids. Then I open my eyes so I can look at his beautiful face and trace his scar that I love.

“What’s wrong?” He runs his hand along my arm, concern in his features. I don’t think he can stop touching me.

I open my mouth to try to speak, but my throat feels dry. How was I able to be such a seductress when I worked the men up and down Manhattan, and now with him I can barely eke out anything but okays? This is a new language I am learning. I am relearning the basic words, saying them for the first time, mucking up the pronunciation.

But this is Trey. He wants me as I am. He takes me as I am. He wants me sans makeup, sans costume, no lies, no airs, no tricks. So I try on the words for size, hoping I can get them out. “I’m turned on again, feeling you against me.”

His eyes widen with lust, and he groans loudly. He clamps a hand onto my hip, pulls me closer. “Fuck, Harley.”

“You say fuck a lot,” I say.

“I know. But fuck. Fuck. Fuck. You say these things to me and I’m dying. You don’t even know how sexy you are. How hot you are. How much I want you.”

Want.

I decided to borrow his words. To mimic. “I want you,” I say.

He raises. “You do? I thought on the subway you said…”

“I know. And I’m not ready for sex. But you know that thing I said I’ve never done? In the drinking game?”

“Oh god,” he moans roughly, pushing his hand through his hair.

“Can I?”

“Please,” he says, his voice has already turned into a beg, and he’s so ready, so turned on that he already has his hands on his jeans and is starting to unbutton them.

“Wait,” I say.

“For?”

“I don’t know how to do it. You have to teach me.”

“It would be my greatest pleasure,” he says.

I sit up on my knees. Place a hand on his belly. On his ridiculously flat and carved abs. “You have to let me undress you.”

“I won’t argue,” he says, and lies flat, tucking his hands behind his head.

I undo the button, then unzip his jeans, tug them down his hips, over his knees, and off. He pushes off his socks. I return to his underwear. White boxer briefs that leave nothing to the imagination. He’s so hard and I can see the outline of his cock perfectly. I draw a sharp intake of breath because he’s So. Fucking. Big. I don’t know how I can take him in my mouth, let alone have him inside me someday. But yet I want to know. I want to learn. Because I love that he’s big and I place my hand on him through his briefs, and he groans and rocks his hips against me instantly.

“Take them off, Harley. Please,” he says, and this guy, he has no problem asking for it. Like he asked me to kiss him. Like he’s asking me to undress him. I don’t want to linger on the why, but he has no hangups and there’s something so freeing about that. Maybe because he’s so different from my clients. Because this is so different from any encounter I’ve ever had. It seems so normal, so right, so the way a guy and a girl feel for each other. All want and heat and lust.

I reach for the waistband, pull down his briefs, and his erection springs free.

I touch him and he’s hot and hard and smooth. And I have no fucking clue what to do next. Do I just wrap my lips around him and suck?

His eyes are closed and he’s already breathing hard. “Um, Trey,” I say, red rushing to my cheeks. I’m an absolute idiot. A clueless idiot. Because I’m a former call girl and I don’t know how to give a blow job.

He opens his eyes. They are hazy and glassy and he looks like he’s drifting off to a happy land.

“I don’t know what to do,” I admit.

He props himself up on his elbows and this is awkward. His cock is in my hand, twitching against my palm, but we’re talking about what I’m about to do as if it’s a medical procedure.

“It’s actually pretty simple,” he tells me. “You just take my dick in your mouth. And you try not to bite, and the way you do that is like this,” he says, then he shows me by pushing his lips over his teeth. “And that’s really the most important part. Trust me, as long as you don’t bite down hard, I’m going to be coming in about a minute.”

I nod. “Okay, here goes nothing.”

Then he stops me. “Wait. Do you want me to come in your mouth?”

“I don’t know. Do I?”

“That’s up to you. But if you don’t I’ll just tell you when I’m about to come, and you can stop sucking, and then just use your hand, okay?”

“Okay,” I say, and I smile, and I laugh, and I drop my face into my free hand.

“What is it, Harley?”

“Nothing. I mean. It’s just this is funny, right?”

He nods and smiles too. “Kinda.”

“I mean, we’re sitting here, and your dick is in my hand, and I’m asking you for tips, and you’re giving me advice for my first blow job, and I’m laughing, and you’re laughing, and it’s kind of awesome.”

Then I lick the head of his cock. “Holy fuck,” he says, and that’s all I’ve done, but he’s into it.

I lick more, kissing the head, then bringing more of him between my lips. He groans and moans, and I love the way he sounds, how he just lets go, and curses like a sailor, or a biker, or a guy in a bar.

Or really, like himself.

Like my Trey.

I pull my lips over my teeth, like he said to do, and I take him in further. I can feel myself start to gag, but then I relax my throat. I don’t know that this is my new favorite thing in the world, I don’t know that I’ve found a hobby like knitting is for Joanne, but I know this – he likes it.

And he likes it because it’s me. Because I’m doing it. Because I’m licking him, tasting him, and wrapping my lips around his hard length, and he likes it because he’s not paying me, and I’m not seducing him, and there’s no agenda. We are just a guy and a girl trying to figure out what it’s like to be with someone when it’s not a game, when it’s not an addiction, when it’s not a transaction.

Soon, as in seconds later, he grabs hard on my hair and moans loudly. “Fuck, Harley. Fucking, fuck. Use your hand too. Grip me with your hand,” he tells me in a hoarse voice, pulling me close, but not too far that I gag. Because, let’s face it, he’s occupying a lot of my mouth right now and I had no clue I could open that wide. I wrap my hand around the base as I move my mouth up and down. He’s salty and musky, and it’s a scent I could get used to because it’s him and I want him. I want him so badly, I am aching between my legs again. I am slippery wet because the sounds he’s making are the complete opposite of me. He’s loud as he curses and narrates everything. “Just like that. Oh god, Harley I’m going to come. I’m going to fucking come now.”

I could finish him off in my hand, but I’ve gone all in. I’m not giving my first blow job in a half-baked, half-ass way. I’m going all the way. He comes in my mouth, and I swallow the taste of him.

He shudders and hisses, and then he whistles. Yes, he actually whistles as I release him and slink up next to him. His eyes are closed, but his lips are curved into this crazy sexy grin, and he’s fucking humming.

“That’s adorable that you whistle after a blow job.”

“I’m whistling a happy tune,” he murmurs. Soon, he opens his eyes, and he looks drunk and happy. “Congratulations on your first blow job, Harley.”

I roll my eyes, swat his shoulder. He grabs me, pulls my naked body next to his.

“How was it?” I ask.

“You want to know?”

“Yes.”

“You really want to know?”

“Yes, idiot. That’s why I asked.”

“Now, I’m gonna tell you. But you can’t get mad at me. And you can’t analyze it. And you can’t hold it against me.”

I tense. “That’s not good.”

“No. It is good. It was good. Harley,” he says, holding my gaze, looking intensely serious. “It was the best ever. Because it was you.”