Chapter Six #2
Rowan kissed my inner thigh and rose to his knees. He dragged his hand down his hairy chest to his dick and gripped it. He looked at my body as if it had been sent to him from heaven, and boy, didn’t that shoot my libido through the roof again.
I couldn’t decide where to look, torn between the flexing muscles of his arm as he pumped his cock, his taut abdomen, or his flushed face. Grabbing a pillow, I shoved it under my head to prop myself up.
“I owe you an orgasm,” I said.
“This is not a competition.”
“No. But it’s not fair that I haven’t seen you come.”
He didn’t stop stroking, releasing tiny grunts with each pump of his hand. “Ah, you want to see my ugly orgasm face.”
“Yes. That’s exactly it. Will you show it to me?”
“It won’t take long with you splayed here like this. Fuck, you’re gorgeous, Milo.”
Rowan braced himself on his forearm, hovering above me, still working his dick.
“Give me your hand,” I said.
Rowan frowned, but stopped jerking off and did as I’d asked.
I licked the inside of his palm, watching his eyes darken at the movement.
“More.” His chest rose and fell, the hair there damp with his sweat.
I gathered saliva in my mouth and spat into his hand.
Rowan smirked, a shadow of surprise crossing his face. He recovered quickly and grabbed his cock, releasing a low growl. He looked at my lips with a greedy stare, then kissed me, open-mouthed but with shocking finesse for a man on the brink of an orgasm.
I met his tongue with mine, caressing, chasing, pleading for more of this, of us. Right now and for as long as we could. I found his nipples and flicked them with both my thumbs. He groaned into my mouth, then pulled away with a choked sound at the back of his throat.
I wanted him on top of me again, but I also needed to see him fall apart.
He pushed back to his knees and caressed my chest and down to my thighs, watching me as if he had to drink his fill or he’d die. With hair dishevelled, falling all around his face and shoulders, Rowan was beautiful in his pleasure.
“Will you come on me, big guy?” I asked in a raspy voice. My fucked-out confidence was shining through.
Rowan’s eyes blew wide, and he bared his teeth. “Fuck.” His panting grew sharper, and he shot his release all over my chest and abdomen. He didn’t stop; twisting his hand on the upstroke until he spilled more thick cum on me.
I looked down at myself. I liked messy sex, but we were supposed to go out. Fine, it was all my fault for jumping him right away. Oh, and I did ask him to come on me. Never mind.
From the nightstand, he grabbed a packet of wet wipes, then dropped it back.
He danced his fingertips over my hips and up my sides. “Can I lick you?”
I beamed. “Anywhere you want.”
Rowan cleaned up his mess in the most erotic way, dragging his tongue over my skin, kissing, nuzzling.
He was worshipping me.
I could get used to it.
He paused at my nipples. “These are so sexy,” he said, and sucked on my pierced bud. It grew hard under his tongue. And so did another part of my body. Except for my limbs, which turned into cooked noodles, surrendering to whatever Rowan had planned.
I stroked his hair as the elation of the encounter was leaving me with one invasive thought in my head. “My ex-boyfriend hated pierced nipples, so I got these after we broke up.” Ugh, why did I have to ruin a moment by mentioning that idiot?
“Spite?” Rowan lifted his head, then nuzzled the spot between my pecs.
“More of an appreciation of my body and owning that I can do whatever I feel is right for it and not what someone else wants.”
“I like that. Your ex sounds like an asshole.”
“Let’s not belittle assholes.”
“Good point. Yours was fun to play with,” Rowan said, then kissed my clavicle and rolled to the side.
I threw a leg over his thigh and an arm over his chest, playing with the hair there. I traced my fingers down to the happy trail on his abdomen, to his spent cock, resting heavily on his thigh. Rowan was very proportional.
“Is it hard to find shoes for your size?”
Rowan wiggled his toes. “No, BlackHorns carry footwear that would work for me, and I do have a few pairs made by them.”
The brand was famous for its cryptid clothes, from casual to super formal, covering a wide range and catering to all shapes and monster needs.
“So you like going barefoot?”
“I do now, yes. My feet are made for walking directly on the ground. I used to wear sneakers to school to fit in better, but I’m over that.”
“I like that you don’t hide them.” I coughed, wanting to smack myself. What if he thought I was objectifying him? “I mean—”
“It’s fine. You don’t seem like a cryptid chaser.” He put an arm around me and stroked my back. “I had a few decent encounters with these too.”
“I’m stuck between curious and unsure if I want to know.”
Rowan chuckled. “Ask me anything. I’m not the relationship type, so I don’t shy away from experimenting. I can tell you whatever you want, but I won’t reveal anyone else’s secrets. I definitely got a few excellent foot massages out of a few feet-curious people. And gave a few.”
“We could give that a go.”
“Next time?”
I swallowed. It was just sex. A fling could last more than one evening. “Maybe.”
I stroked my fingers through the hair on his pec, then nuzzled my cheek into it. I could sleep here. As a big fan of a good bush and a hairy chest, I was enamored. Rowan had a lot of it all. A lot to love.
And I should shake out of my trance.
“Do you still feel like getting ice-cream?” I asked.
“Yes. I’m in the mood for white and milky substances in my mouth today.” Rowan spoke like he was attempting foreign words and they’d come out somewhat off.
I cackled like a witch on crack. “That was so bad. But points for trying to be funny.”
Author’s notes:
Cock-zilla will make more appearances in this fic, I promise LOL Any Swimming with the Sharks fans out there? Looooove themmmm
Thank you all who shared your work nightmares in the comments and hate on AI. I appreciate all the lovely pick-me-ups too! My day job is in a book environment and I’m seriously scared I’ll get fired :(