The frosted glass door opened and Clara stepped out.
She was wearing the hotel robe. White. Thick cotton, the kind that was heavy enough to wrap around twice, the belt tied loosely at her waist. The hem fell to just above her knees. Her blonde hair was damp at the ends, falling past her shoulders. Her feet were bare on the dark wood floor.
She stopped just outside the bathroom doorway.
Liam was still on the bed, lying back against the pillows with his hands behind his head, the towel still around his waist. He looked over at her.
She was standing completely still. Her hands had found the belt of the robe and her fingers were working it slightly, not untying it, just holding it. Her blue eyes moved to him and then away and then back again. Her cheeks were pink from the shower and sothing else underneath that.
Then his dick started rising.
Slowly. Visibly. The towel shifting with it.
Clara’s eyes dropped to it. Stayed there.
She watched it happen with her lips slightly parted and her fingers tightening on the belt of the robe. The color in her cheeks deepened from pink to sothing closer to red.
Liam looked at it too. Then up at her.
He had been with won who knew exactly what they were doing.
Won who walked into a room like they owned the floor under their feet, who reached for what they wanted without hesitating, who made the whole thing feel easy and natural and uncomplicated.
That had beco his normal without him fully noticing.
And then there was Clara.
Standing in a hotel robe with damp hair and bare feet, holding her own belt like it was the only thing keeping her upright, completely unable to look at him and completely unable to look away.
There was sothing about it that hit differently than anything had in a long ti.
Liam sat up slowly, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He looked at her. "What’s wrong?"
Clara’s eyes ca up to his face. "Nothing."
"Clara."
She exhaled. Her fingers let go of the belt. "It’s just. We’re at a hotel."
"We are," he said. "Is that the problem?"
She looked at the floor for a mont. Then back at him. "I’ve never done it before."
Liam looked at her. "Done what?"
She gave him a look that said she wasn’t going to say it out loud.
"Say it," he said.
"Sex, Liam." Her voice dropped on the word. "I’ve never had sex before."
He stared at her. "Really."
"Really."
"I genuinely thought—" He stopped. "With Derek. I assud you two had—"
"No." She shook her head. "Never. I was scared of it and he was—" She pressed her lips together. "He made it pretty clear that was all he actually wanted most of the ti so I never felt comfortable enough to even think about it."
Liam was quiet for a mont. Then sothing occurred to him. "Okay but you’re genuinely good at giving head. Like suspiciously good."
Clara’s whole face went red. "I had to find so way to make him happy. At least."
’Oh," Liam thought. Then it landed fully. ’Oh. That’s all she’s ever done.’
He looked at her standing there in the robe with her damp hair and her red cheeks and sothing settled in his chest that he didn’t try to na.
"Okay," he said. "We don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for. We take it slow. A little at a ti. If you want to stop we stop. No pressure from ."
Clara looked at him for a mont. Sothing in her face softened. "Yeah?"
"Yeah."
She smiled. Small and genuine. "Okay. That works."
Liam smiled back. Then he turned on the bed and sat on the edge of it, spreading his legs slightly, leaning back on one hand.
The towel shifted with the movent and his dick slipped through the gap in the fold, the towel falling open around it. It sat there fully visible, fully hard, the shape of it impossible to ignore.
Clara stared at it.
"I thought you ant kissing," she said. Her voice had gone slightly smaller.
Liam looked down and then back up at her with a completely straight face. "You’re still going to be using your lips. I don’t see the problem."
Clara opened her mouth. Closed it. "You’re terrible."
"I’m not really, if you don’t want to it’s fine."
She exhaled through her nose. Then she crossed the room slowly, her bare feet quiet on the floor, her robe shifting around her knees with each step. She stopped in front of him and looked at him for one more second like she was giving herself a final chance to say sothing.
She didn’t say anything.
’Okay, I’m kind of worried it might feel the sa because I’ve had a lot already’
She sank down onto her knees.
Her hands moved to his thighs first, steadying herself against them, her palms warm through the fabric of the towel.
Then one hand reached up and gathered her damp blonde hair, pulling it back over one shoulder and holding it there.
She looked at him one more ti from where she knelt, her blue eyes eting his briefly, and then she looked down.
She took her ti just looking at him first.
Her fingers wrapped around him slowly, both hands finding their positions, one settling at the base and the other just above it.
She felt the size of him in her grip and adjusted, her fingers spreading slightly, getting comfortable with the weight of him before she did anything else.
Then she leaned forward and pressed her lips to the very tip of him. Not taking him in. Just pressing there. Soft and deliberate. Like a greeting.
’Oh, shit.’
Liam went completely still.
She did it again.
Her lips parting just slightly, the warmth of her breath landing on him before her mouth did. Then her tongue ca out and traced a slow circle around the head, unhurried, learning the shape of it from the outside before she committed to anything further.
"Hm—" The sound left him quietly through his nose.
She took just the head into her mouth. Held it there.
Her tongue pressed flat against the underside and moved in a slow back and forth motion, steady and continuous, her lips sealed around him.
She stayed there for a long mont, not moving her head at all, just working with her tongue, feeling him respond to it.
He put his hand on her head.
Then she started moving.
Slow. Her lips sliding down his length one careful inch at a ti, her tongue staying active the whole way, tracing the ridge along the underside as she went.
She stopped halfway and pulled back up just as slowly, her lips dragging against him on the way, the suction gentle and consistent.
Down again. A little further this ti.
Back up.
She set her own pace from the start and she didn’t let him rush it.
Her hand at the base moved with her mouth, the two working together in the sa rhythm, and her other hand rested flat against his thigh, her fingers pressing in lightly with each downstroke like she was anchoring herself.
’I missed this,’ she thought, settling into the rhythm. ’I missed his cock, his sll, I missed all of it and I’m not going to pretend otherwise.’
She went a little deeper on the next stroke.
Felt him reach toward the back of her throat and pulled back before it beca too much, keeping herself just inside her own limit, right at the edge of it.
’Oh—, Gawwwd’
Liam exhaled. Slow and controlled but not entirely steady. "Clara—"
She didn’t respond with words.
Just kept going.
Her head rising and falling in that sa patient rhythm, her tongue working on every stroke, the wet sounds filling the quiet of the room around them.
She changed it up without warning.
Instead of the steady back and forth she slowed completely, taking him as deep as she comfortably could and then holding there.
Her tongue moved against him from underneath, slow rolling waves of pressure, her lips sealed tight. She held the position for several seconds before rising back up gradually, her lips dragging the full length of him on the way.
"Tch—" His grip tightened in her hair.
She did it again. The sa thing. Deep. Hold. Tongue working slowly underneath. Then the long drag back up to the tip where she swirled once before going back down.
’He likes that,’ she thought. ’I can feel exactly how much he likes that.’
She added her hand back into it on the next pass, her grip at the base twisting slightly on the upstroke just as her mouth reached the top, the two sensations arriving at the sa point at the sa mont.
Liam made a sound that wasn’t a word.
She kept going.
Her pace was still slow but it had weight to it now, each movent purposeful and considered, nothing rushed or automatic.
She was paying attention to all of it.
The way his breathing changed on certain strokes. The way his thigh tensed under her palm when her tongue hit a specific spot. She filed each reaction away and ca back to it.
Her tongue traced the full length of him on the outside, base to tip, slow and flat. Then her lips wrapped back around the head and she took him in again, deeper than before, her throat working as she pushed past her usual point.
"Mm—" The sound ca from sowhere she hadn’t planned. Her own reaction, involuntary, the fullness of him registering sowhere low in her body entirely separately from what her mouth was doing.
She pulled back. Breathed through her nose. Went back down.
’I can’t get enough of this,’ she thought. Her eyes were closed now, her full attention narrowed to this single thing. ’I genuinely cannot get enough of him.’
Liam’s hand had moved from resting in her hair to holding it, gathered in his fist, not pulling just holding, like he needed sothing to grip. His breathing had stopped being quiet several minutes ago.
She changed the pace again. Faster now, her head moving with more urgency, her hand following, the rhythm tighter and more continuous. Her tongue stayed active throughout, pressing and swirling and dragging on every stroke, not letting a single movent go to waste.
The sounds in the room had shifted entirely. Wet and steady and constant.
"Clara." His voice ca out completely rough.
She felt the change in him before he said it. The slight shift in his breathing, the way his thigh had gone rigid under her palm, the way he had stopped trying to stay still. She knew what was coming and she didn’t slow down. She sped up instead, her head moving faster, her hand tightening, her mouth working with everything she had.
He ca with his hand pressing her head down, pushing her deeper than she had gone on her own, burying himself fully as it happened. Clara’s hands gripped his thighs hard, her throat working around him, taking everything. Her eyes squeezed shut. A muffled sound ca from sowhere deep in her chest.
She swallowed. Once. Then again. Her throat moving steadily.
He held her there for a long mont, his breathing completely wrecked, his chest rising and falling hard. Then his hand released her hair slowly.
Clara pulled back and sat up on her heels, one hand going to her mouth imdiately. She coughed once, her eyes watering at the corners, and pressed two fingers against her lips while she collected herself. She breathed through her nose. Straightened her shoulders.
Then she looked up at him.
Her hair was thoroughly undone, blonde strands falling across her face and shoulders. Her lips were swollen and slick. The robe had slipped off one shoulder during everything, showing a long strip of pale skin from her collarbone down. Her blue eyes were slightly glassy but completely present, looking up at him from where she still knelt on the floor.
Liam looked down at her for a long mont.
He reached down and pushed the loose hair back from her face gently, tucking it behind her ear.
"I missed you," he said. Simple and completely straight. "Okay?"
Clara looked up at him. Sothing moved through her expression that she didn’t bother hiding this ti.
"Okay," she said quietly.
Liam’s mouth curved. "Good. Because we’re not done."
Clara’s eyes went slightly wide. She looked at him. Then down at him. Then back up at his face with an expression that was equal parts nervous and sothing else entirely that she was doing a very poor job of concealing.
Liam looked back at her and waited.
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