I’m sort of a connoisseur of blow jobs. For a guy, they’re the most convenient kind of sex. No fuss, little mess. If any of you out there have never given one, I’ll let you in on a little secret. Once a guy’s dick is actually in your mouth, he’ll be so happy, it doesn’t really matter what you do with it afterward. That being said, there are certain moves that make it better.

Kate pumps me with her hand while increasing the suction at the tip with her hot little mouth.

Like that, for instance.

She swirls her tongue around the head like she’s licking a lollipop. Where the f**k did she learn that? I moan helplessly and grip the cushions on the couch. She takes me all the way down her throat once, then twice. Then she switches to fast, short pumps with her mouth and hand.

It’s magnificent. I’ve been blown by the best of them. And I swear to God, Kate Brooks has the technique of a freaking  p**n  star.

I try to hold still, conscious that this really is her first time, but it’s difficult. And then her hands are under me—on my ass—urging me upward. She guides my hips back and forth, pushing me in and out of her mouth. Holy God. She removes her hands, but my hips continue to move in short shallow jabs.

I’m close to losing it—but I always give a warning first. If a guy doesn’t warn you? Dump him fast. He’s a f**king prick.

“Kate…baby, I’m…if you don’t move now…God, I’m gonna…” Coherent words are apparently beyond my ability at the moment. Still, I think she gets the idea.

But she doesn’t move away. She doesn’t stop. I look down at the very moment Kate opens her eyes and looks up. And that’s all it takes. It’s the moment I’ve fantasized about since I first saw her. Those big brown doe eyes staring up at me as my c**k slides between her perfect lips. With a whimper of her name, I fill her mouth with a pulsing stream. Kate moans and takes it all in, swallowing greedily.

After what seems like an eternity, I start to come down. You know when you first step out of a Jacuzzi? How your limbs feel like Jell-O? Yeah—that’s me. Right now.

I’m breathing hard and grinning like the village idiot as I pull her up by the shoulders and kiss her deep. Some men are grossed out about kissing a woman whose mouth they just came in. I’m not one of them. “How in holy hell did you learn to give head like that?”

Kate laughs at the wonder in my voice as she spreads out on top of me. “Delores dated this guy in college. He was really into  p**n . He used to leave movies at our dorm all the time. And, once in a while…I’d watch them.”

The next time I see Delores Warren? Remind me to drop to my knees and kiss her ass.

Once the movie ended, Kate and I decided to have a full-out Will Ferrell marathon. We’re halfway through Blades of Glory when my phone rings. We’re still on the couch, lying comfortably side by side, and I don’t really feel like getting up. Or talking to anyone not currently in the room, for that matter.

I let the answering machine pick up. Jack’s voice fills the room, yelling over the sound of pounding music in the background: “Drew! Dude, pick up! Where the f**k are you?” He pauses a moment, and I’m guessing he realizes I’m not going to pick up. “You have got to come out tonight, man! I’m at Club Sixty-Nine, and there’s someone here who wants to see you.”

This doesn’t sound promising. I start to sit up, my Y-chromosomal instincts telling me to turn the machine off. Now. But I’m not fast enough. And a sultry female voice comes out of Pandora’s Box. “Dreeewwww…it’s Staaaacey. I’ve missed you, baby. I want to take another taxi ride. Remember that night when I sucked your dick so g—”

My hand slaps down on the off button.

Then I glance sideways at Kate. Her face is frozen on the TV, her expression indecipherable. I should probably say something. What the f**k should I say? “Sorry, one of my other come-dumps called?” Nah, for some reason, I don’t think that one would go over very well.

She sits up stiffly. “I should probably get going.”

Shit. Frigging Jack.

Kate gets up, holding my pillow close against her, covering herself.

Well, that’s not a good sign. An hour ago she was pushing her snatch against my face. Now she doesn’t even want me looking at it.

Goddamn it.

She walks past me toward the bedroom. Even with my stomach churning, I can’t help but admire the sway of her tight ass as she goes by. Predictably, my c**k springs up like Dracula rising from his coffin.

When I was ten, we had a dog. He humped everything and anything—from the maid’s leg to my parents’ four-poster bed. He was insatiable. My parents were mortified whenever company stopped by. But now I realize he really wasn’t a bad dog. It wasn’t his fault.

I feel your pain, Fido.

I sigh. And get up to follow Kate. By the time I make it to the bedroom, her skirt’s on and her blouse is buttoned. She doesn’t look at me when I walk in.

“Kate—”

“Do you know where my other shoe is?” Her eyes gaze at the floor, the bed—anywhere but at me.

“Kate—”

“Maybe it’s under the bed.” She kneels down.

“You don’t have to go.”

She doesn’t look up. “I don’t want to get in the way of your plans.”

Who has plans? The only plan I had was to gorge myself on the juicy buffet between her thighs. Again.