10. Matty #3
“Say it, tesoro. You want me to lick your balls? Your asshole? Take you all the way to my throat?”
“That,” I said, my voice thick with need. “Deeper.”
“How deep?”
I blew out a shaky breath, heat crawling up my neck. “Until you swallow me down and choke on my cock.”
The room went deafeningly quiet.
Shit.
My face flamed. I had never said anything like that.
For a second, I thought I might’ve crossed a line, pushed him too far too fast. That was until he let out a low, pained groan.
“Fuck, that’s hot.”
Diaz’s pupils were blown so wide the brown was almost gone.
Relief crashed through me. “You . . . want that, too?”
“Fuck yeah, I do.” He stroked me lazily. “Damn, I always knew that Southern drawl of yours was dangerous, but it’s fucking deadly when you’re telling me to choke on your cock.”
The tension in my chest loosened, replaced by something warmer. Hungrier. I reached down, wrapping a hand around the back of his neck and angling his head back toward my dick.
“Then take me,” I demanded, voice steadier now. “Take it all, Peter. Show me how much you want this cock.”
His grin was slow and wicked.
“Don’t be gentle, tesoro.”
He sank down again, lips stretching wide as he took me inch by inch until his nose pressed against my pubic bone.
“That’s it,” I crooned. “Just like that.”
I felt the moment his throat constricted around the head and he swallowed around me. The sounds he made were muffled and wet, and the vibration ripped a low, guttural moan straight out of my chest.
My fingers splayed wide over his close-shaved head. There wasn’t much to grip, but I tightened there anyway.
This was too fucking good.
I could already feel my balls tightening.
Diaz kept his eyes on mine as he sucked, his cheeks hollowing every time he bobbed his head up and down my length.
“You gonna let me fuck your throat?”
He didn’t answer me. He couldn’t.
Not with a mouthful of cock.
Instead, he reached up and placed his hand over mine on the back of his head and pushed.
This time, when my hips jerked forward, he didn’t fight me.
I fucked shallowly into the wet heat of his mouth while he hummed his encouragement. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes from the stretch, but his pace never slowed.
I shoved myself deeper and he took it, took me, like he’d been starving for it.
Every. Fucking. Inch.
“Goddamn, Peter. Your throat—” My voice cracked, words tumbling out in ragged bursts. “Feels so good.”
I pulled his head back until only the tip remained in his mouth, and he swirled his tongue once, twice, before diving back down again.
I held him down with one hand while the other knuckled the sheets, trying to keep some semblance of control while he unraveled me. The heat and pressure of his throat closing around me was too much.
“You’re gonna make me come, Peter.” I panted, rocking helplessly now. “And you’re going to swallow every drop like a good boy, aren’t you?”
His eyes lit up and he moaned around my length.
Fuck, he loves this just as much as I do.
My friend. My teammate.
Such a good boy.
His eyes slid half-closed when the first thick rope of cum shot down his throat. He swallowed greedily, milking me while his fingers kept up that maddening pressure behind my balls. Only when my grip loosened on the back of his head did he finally ease off.
He pulled back slowly, pressing soft, reverent kisses to the head, the shaft, the crease of my thigh. When he finally crawled up my body, his lips were swollen and shiny and his cheeks were flushed.
“Christ on a cracker.” I panted, dragging my thumb along his plump bottom lip “I feel like you sucked my soul out of my dick.”
He kissed the pad of my thumb, then nuzzled into my palm like a cat. “In a good way?”
“The best kind of way.”
I dragged him into a messy kiss, tasting myself on his tongue. When we broke apart, I rolled us onto our sides.
“You okay?” he asked softly.
“You even have to ask?” I kissed him again, slower this time. “That was . . . Fuck, Peter. I didn’t know it could feel like that.”
“That’s just the start. We’ve got all night, tesoro.”
“Give me ten minutes to remember how to speak in full sentences and I’m all yours.”
Diaz’s grin turned slow and wicked. He brushed his knuckles along my cheek.
“Don’t worry,” he murmured. “I’ve got big plans for your mouth and none of them require being able to form sentences.”
He kissed me once more and then rolled off the bed. I watched, boneless, as he shrugged off the rest of his clothes in seconds. He stepped out of his clothes and left them pooled on the floor, giving me a full, unhurried view of his naked body as he walked toward the tiny, en suite bathroom.
Broad shoulders. Tight ass. The flex of muscles in his back and thighs as he moved. Every inch of him looked like he’d been carved from marble.
When he reached the doorway, he paused, shooting a wicked smirk over his shoulder.
“Ten minutes, Matty.”
He disappeared into the shower, leaving the door open like an invitation. I stared after him, heart pounding and blood already rushing south again.
To hell with ten minutes.
I didn’t even need five.