9. Chapter 8
Chapter 8
Noel
A ppetency. A strong desire. Longing. Craving. All words to describe the way I’ve felt since the moment I first laid eyes on Branson. A desire that has kept building and building with every call and every message. That gorgeous, sexy, exasperating man burrowed his way under my skin, and I was certain he had no idea how much of an effect he had on me.
What would it be like to call him mine?
My plan to woo Branson last night had gone astray with that idiot laying his hands on him and then by his sexy as fuck, yet infuriating roommate kicking me out. Why he took so much offence to me trying to take care of Branson - of both of them - I had no idea. All I knew was that Milo, the little artist, seemed to severely dislike me.
Shame .
My traitorous dick twitched at the thought of the dark haired, brooding man, who I had developed a sizzling attraction towards in the few hours since we’d met. It was most likely - well highly likely - due to the way he constantly scowled at me. And the way his eyes constantly caressed Branson and the way he made Branson light up with a single touch. Milo had it bad. At least we had something in common.
As I waited on Branson’s bed for him to return, I took in my surroundings. It seemed my kitten had an affinity for soft items and trinkets. His bed was strewn with blankets and throw pillows and a shelf housing a large collection of mugs ran the length of one wall. If I was to hazard a guess, I would say he was trying to collect a mug from all fifty states. I saved that nugget of information for a later date.
Standing from his bed, I walked over to the window, taking in the view of the street below. New York was grey and dull, though it was early summer and was due to heat up later in the week. I played with the idea of taking Branson somewhere along the coast.
“Thought I’d find you in here.” Branson’s voice came from behind me and I spun around to face him, once again taken aback by his beauty. I bit down on my knuckle, unsuccessfully fighting back a groan. Branson laughed, taking a step towards me when his phone started ringing, halting his movements.
Seriously? It was like two steps forward, five steps back with him. Fucking interruptions. He gave me a small smile, turning to find his phone on the bed. “August, hi, yep, sorry. Can I call you back? Oh yeah, not an emergency, false alarm.” He went silent for a while, and I could vaguely hear a voice on the other side. “Okay, sure. I will call you later. Bye.”
“An emergency?” I asked, raising a brow. My mouth watered at the pink flush that appeared on his cheeks.
“Nope. No emergency, never mind.”
“Come here.” My voice was low but loud enough for him to hear. Branson stepped towards me, taking slow, tentative steps until he was right within touching distance. Perfect. Reaching out a hand, I placed it on his waist and dragged him flush against me. His breath hitched, and as I brought my face closer to his neck, I could hear his rapid intake of air.
I moved my hands to the hem of his vest, deliberately grazing them along his belly, feeling the cool skin there. He shuddered, his skin breaking out in goosebumps.
“What are you doing?” Branson asked, tiny puffs of air hitting my cheek and I turned my lips to ghost over his.
“Exactly what I said I would - stripping you slowly.” I moved my lips, loving the way he chased their departure, leaning forward to catch them with his. But instead of indulging him, I kissed down the side of his neck, then left featherlight pecks over his collarbone, before tugging at his top. Branson lifted his arms, and I threw it to the side then resumed mapping his body.
“Now I’m going to kiss every bare inch of you. Do you remember what else I said?” Bending, I wiped the flat of my tongue over his pert nipple, rolling the other between my thumb and forefinger. My dick was hard as steel, but I ignored it. This was about him, not me.
Branson whined then swallowed thickly. “Worship me.” His answer was a command I had every intention of following.
Fuck, yes.
“That’s right, I’m going to worship every part of you. Because that’s what you want, isn’t it?” I kneeled down so that my face was in line with his navel, which I lapped at, kissing on either side before licking a stripe along the waistband of his boxers. Branson ran his hands through my hair, gripping tightly as I continued to kiss and nibble along his taut stomach. He grazed his nails over my scalp and my dick took major notice, the pain sending lightning bolts of pleasure through me.
Roaming my hands up his sides then back down his hips, they found their way to his luscious ass. Memories of how tight he’d been at the wedding flooded me and it took all my restraint not to move us in that direction again.
He made me feel insatiable. Unmoored.
Branson’s breaths were coming out in rapid, shallow puffs and his hips were moving of their own accord - swaying gently back and forth, chasing friction.
My hands moved to the edge of his boxers, and I pulled them down inch by inch, exposing his straining cock to my waiting mouth. It was long, thinner than mine and pink at the head. A bead of precum sat at the tip but I ignored it, licking instead into the crease at his thigh, then kissing back up and over to the other side. His skin was salty, his scent heady and it lit me up, my body humming with want as I focused all my attention on the sexy man in front of me.
“Noel.” My name on Branson's lips was everything. I wanted to hear it again, and again. I wanted to watch him shatter as he cried it out.
“What do you want, love?” I looked up, meeting his eyes. His pupils were blown, the grey blue irises swallowed up by swirling darkness.
“Suck me. Please. Please da-” He slammed his mouth shut and I smirked, knowing what he’d been about to say. This sexy man standing in front of me wanted to be cared for, desired, pampered and I knew exactly what he craved, because I craved giving it to him in return.
“You beg so pretty, kitten. Let me hear it.”
Branson shook his head, then threw it back, looking at the ceiling. “Please.” His legs trembled and I stood, taking his hand and leading him to his bed, pressing him down gently onto the mattress. He sat down, leaning back on his elbows. God, he was stunning. “Now try again, beautiful.”
“Please suck me, please.” I kneeled down between his open legs, resting my hands on either side of him.
“Please what?” Licking around the head of his leaking cock, I savoured a burst of salty goodness that landed on my tongue. Branson let out a low whine and I did it again, sucking just the tip while moving my hand to grip the base of his shaft, jacking it in a slow rhythm.
“Pl-” he started, before swallowing audibly, canting his hips up to meet my mouth. Swirling my tongue around the mushroom shaped tip again, I dipped my tongue into the slit, lapping up the precum steadily leaking from him and he whined.
“Please, daddy.”
There you go. Fuck me, he was incredible. I growled at his words. Could he get any sexier?
I loved the look of surprise on his face, as though he couldn't believe he'd voiced it out loud. His eyes were wide as they locked onto mine, but his lips settled in a content grin. Good fucking boy.
“With pleasure,” I said before sucking him all the way to the back of my throat in one swift move. Light, neatly trimmed hair brushing against me once my nose met his groin. I loved the way his cock felt hard yet smooth and I released him, running the flat of my tongue up his shaft before taking him deep again, a low groan emanating from my throat.
“Holy, shit!” Branson cried out, his arms shaking slightly at the strain of holding himself up. His reactions were stunning, and I kept up the rhythm, watching as pleasure played out over his features.
With his eyes closed and his mouth wide open, Branson threw his head back, rocking his hips and pressing his cock further into my mouth. I swallowed around him, feeling his dick rub against the walls of my throat. I had discovered years ago that I had no gag reflex, so taking him deep enough to cut off my airways was easy.
It was then, while I was pouring all my attention into sucking and lapping at the smooth skin and the slightly curved contour of his gorgeous cock, that I caught movement over Branson’s shoulder. I shifted my focus away from him, finding myself locked on to a pair of golden brown eyes. Milo stood at the threshold, leaning against the open bedroom door. It occurred to me then that Branson hadn’t closed it when he’d come in earlier.
There was something so guarded about Milo, but at that moment he was an open book. Everything he wanted was right there on his face. I recognised it because I knew I wore the same look where Bran was concerned. Desire - the dilated pupils, the flush on his cheeks, the way his hands rubbed against the side of his thighs as though itching to reach out and touch. And while I wanted Branson as mine, for some reason the thought of Milo being there didn’t bother me, in fact the thought of him with us - the three of us together - sent butterflies fluttering in my chest. I liked him, liked having him in my presence and I liked the way he made Branson smile. I’d have to wait to assess those feelings though; I didn’t have time right then.
Branson thrust up into my mouth, whimpering out a desperate ‘please’, at the same time Milo hesitated, taking a step backwards. I didn’t want him to leave. I wanted him to stay. To watch. To enjoy.
Keeping my eyes trained on Milo, I popped off of Branson’s delicious cock, taking it in hand again and gently shook my head at Milo, mouthing the word 'stay’. Milo toyed with the waistband of his sweatpants, rubbing them back and forth, not daring to dip lower. His arousal was evident - the outline of his hard cock, his huge hard cock, was easily seen - and I nodded to him, trying to give him the courage to touch himself.
He gulped, his throat working rapidly as he slipped his hand beneath the waistband. He gripped his cock beneath the fabric, his mouth falling into a perfect O, his cheeks bright pink. So fucking sexy.
I dropped my eyes from him, focusing back on the man in front me. Branson was oblivious to our visitor, too lost in his own pleasure. Leaning forward, my hand still on his cock, I pressed him backwards so he lay flat on his back. Kissing the side of his neck, I whispered in his ear, “Seems we have ourselves an audience, kitten.” Branson tipped his head back, taking in Milo standing at the door.
“Oh,” Branson said. Milo froze and I was sure he was about to bolt but Branson surprised me, stopping his retreat. “Don’t go Milo.”
“Good boy.” I’m not sure who it was aimed at but I darted my eyes between them both, loving the way they wore matching flushes up their necks and over their cheeks.
With Milo’s thick tattooed arm flexing as he rubbed his cock, and Branson’s eyes on him, I bent back down, taking Branson back into my mouth. His one hand threaded through my hair and he tugged until I had tears streaming out the sides of my eyes.
"Yes, daddy, so close, so fucking close. More. Please, more,” Branson rasped, canting his hips faster, chasing my hands and my mouth. I increased the pressure and speed, eating up the noises that came from him. Sweet and delicious.
Branson tensed below me, and his other hand shot out, gripping my hair painfully as his back bowed off the bed. “Noel!” he shouted as he flooded my mouth and I gulped down every drop of his release.
Once he was soft, he slipped from my mouth and I took in his form splayed across the bed. His skin was covered in a light sheen of sweat and his chest raised and fell rapidly with his panting breaths. Climbing over him, I leaned my full weight down and kissed him fiercely, loving the way his tongue toyed with mine.
I looked up then, hoping to see our voyeur but was disappointed to find the doorway empty.
“He left,” I said, more to myself than to Branson. But he nodded, his voice soft when he said, “Yeah, he did.”