Chapter 26 #2
“Then, you want to do casual?” He presses my hand to his cock, and picks up that rhythm against my palm exactly where he left off, only slower, gaze melding with mine, as though I have any say in this.
He leans down, kisses me, slow, his tongue twisting across mine in a never-quite-enough tease.
My hand tightens around his dick. “We’ll do casual,” he whispers in my ear, his breath sending a shower of sparks flying down my spine.
Fucking hell. I’ve done all I can do at this point. If that’s what he wants…
“August?”
I can barely groan a reply to his throaty use of my name. I get some vague, acquiescent grunt out, as though I even know who I am anymore.
He takes my head in two hands, and licks my face from my jaw, right up to my ear, where he whispers, “Do you want to fuck me?”
My fingers sink deep into his back in an effort to stop myself coming on the spot. I hold my breath for a moment, pray for the feeling to pass, then let myself look up into his beautiful eyes, glazed with desire, pupils blown wide. “More than anything else I’ve ever wanted.”
I throw him down onto the couch where he lands with a playful laugh, his leg curling around behind me as I climb on top of him, kissing him, running my fingers through his hair, mapping every inch of him—the smooth skin, the stubble on his jaw, the soft flesh beneath his neck.
I kiss the hollow of his throat, ripping his sweater up as I move down and down.
I want it off, but I can’t find the time to take it off, because my tongue’s on his skin now, and the line that runs down the centre of his body is so built, so pronounced, it’s like a one-way street, down and down.
I circle his belly button, letting my hand cup his balls.
His back arches on contact, his cock pushing up against my chest.
Finally, I ease back, stroking him with one hand while I let my hungry gaze fall on him.
Holy fuck.
He’s all pressed back against the cushions, eyes locked onto me, that gorgeous smile of his sublime with anticipation. His hoodie’s caught up around his shoulders, and the vast expanse of skin is like striking gold.
He’s got abs for days. His chest is built. He’s entirely sculpted. He is an Adonis, and I’m going to fuck this man.
It’s too much. I feel all at once like I have no right to touch him, like he’s far too beautiful for me.
But when he presses his hips forward, there isn’t a thing I can do to resist. My head drops, kissing over the hills and valleys of his bare skin.
His Adonis belt is irresistible to my lips, and I trace it, wanting to drown in the desperate sound he makes when my lips approach his cock.
But every piece of him is delicious, and if this is one night only, I’m not missing a thing. I start at the opposite hip, licking a line down that perfect diagonal groove, down, until a touch of hair meets my lips again, then down further, over the fabric of his track pants.
I drive a thumb up the side of his cock, massaging the rest with the close of my fist. My bottom lip wipes over precum, leaking through the fabric, and I kiss the top of his cock. “You’re so wet for me.”
His response is a hungry whine, a slight but desperate thrust forward.
I wrap my mouth around his cock, through the fabric, sucking him, tasting him.
Every day I saw him wearing these, his cock bouncing about the place, I never thought this would happen.
I savour the sensation, August’s fingers grabbing at my neck, begging for more.
I can’t resist a look up at him, letting my tongue drag across the cotton.
He’s an ocean of muscle, but there’s nothing so pretty as his parted lips, drawing deep breaths as he watches me. I drop a kiss on his cock, then wrap my fingers around his waistband. “Did you think of me last night?”
“Yes,” he breathes out fast.
“Did you watch yourself?”
A little twitch of his eyebrows pulls them down into a slight frown, like he’s not sure how to answer. I slide his pants down slowly, then pause just before I reveal his cock, waiting for his answer. “I did.”
“Tell me how beautiful you were.”
The tip of his cock slides free, and I can’t help but wonder, is it bigger than mine? He’s so much more built, so much more beautiful.
“It was you, August,” he says.
“It was you.” I place the first kiss on the side of his crown, soft and firm, throbbing for more of me. “You’re so perfectly fuckable.”
His words flow out on a needy sigh. “It was you. It was your lips. And your mouth. And August, oh fuck, August.” He falls apart beneath me as I take him in my mouth. What a glorious fantasy—that this man would ever look in the mirror and see me. Think of me. Want me. All while he’s fucking himself.
The taste of precum sends me wild, making me take him deeper, faster, but nothing so much as that image of him, stroking himself, on the phone to me, imagining me.
I want to be every thought that went through his mind last night, a dream come to life. Even if I am the low-rent version of him, he can close his eyes and pretend.
His hand’s in my hair, his words stroking me like his fingertips.
“You’re so beautiful. Fuck, when you talked to me like that.
I want to see you. Take it off. Take it off.
” There’s a half-hearted pull at my shirt, and I’ll probably die if he sees enough to compare the two of us, so I wrap my hand tighter around his length to deepen his pleasure.
He cries out, swears, and I’m here for it.
August writhing on the couch beneath my lips.
August thrusting up into my mouth. August ripping his fingers through my hair, and begging now, “Stop, August. I’ll come.
Stop.” But he pulls my hair, and he fucks my mouth, and I’ll let him decide if he really wants to stop.
He can do anything he likes. If he wants to shoot his load in my mouth and call it a night, I’ll say thank you and leave perfectly satisfied.
Then spend the next year thinking of this, getting off every night to the thought of him.
I almost want it to go that way. Some self-defeating part of me wanting him to confirm the worst. This couldn’t happen. He couldn’t be for me. He doesn’t want me like that, and I can move on and try to forget that I ever felt this way.
“August,” he whispers. His hand beneath my chin pulls me, guides me up, bringing my lips back to his, such a heated kiss that he presses back against, the brute strength of him that’s always under wraps forcing me up, his fingers at the button of my shirt.
I clasp a hand over his, kissing him back, stopping him.
“What’s wrong?” he whispers, breathless. When he pulls back, his face is instant concern, like he could ever have done a thing wrong.
“Nothing.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah.” I lean in, and he takes my mouth again, like he owns the damn thing, which he does. But then that hand on my buttons. I catch it.
He breaks the kiss. This time he says nothing, that too-bright mind working it over. Then, “Are you shy?”
His words are half disbelief, but good-humoured. We both know how ridiculous this situation is. In theory.
“Um. No.”
That sly grin of his. “I’ll go first.”
His top’s on the floor in a second, and that is not helping.
This man has muscles all down his arms. He’s firm and delicious in places I didn’t know people could be firm and delicious.
His skin’s tanned and fully naked on top.
I feel like I’m in the wrong place. Like I’m the coffee boy who’s accidentally walked onto the set of the hottest porno ever made.
August shifts a little closer, his knee resting across my thigh. “You don’t need to be shy with me.”
“That’s very easy for you to say.” I can’t help the way my eyes dip to his bulging chest as I say it.
That head tilt he does. I wish I could bottle it. His tongue passes lightly over his lips, and he focuses on my top button, fingers working it slowly. “This is my body. You know that.”
“It’s not.”
“It is.” The first button comes undone, and even if I’m anxious, I don’t stop him this time.
“It’s just skin and muscle.” The second button, and I almost pause him, but he’s gentle, and he’s so kind.
“It’s just sit-ups and time, and a lot of protein.
It doesn’t change what’s underneath.” The next button falls away with so many guards I’ve tried to put up between us.
“It’s you I like, August. I like your brain…
” Another button, “I like your eyes, and I like your words, and I like the way you treat me…” Another button, with a kiss and the closely whispered words, “I like your mouth when it’s on my cock.
” With the final button, he rips my shirt wide open, taking in my exposed body with a hungry look.
“And I like that you’re really fucking hot. ”
His head dips, teeth clamp down on my nipple, and— “Fuck, August!” I cry out.
A finger on my lips, his face close, his smile cheeky. “Shhh. I have neighbours.”
He clearly gives zero fucks about that, because he kicks the coffee table away from the couch with a crash, then drops his track pants to the floor. I have mere seconds to take in the beauty of his naked form before he falls down between my knees and rips my belt open.
“August,” I sort of vaguely protest.
Then my pants are undone, and his gorgeous wrist muscles are flexing as he yanks my trousers down. All the way. Down and off and gone, and we’re both naked, and he shoots one enticing, desirous, gorgeous look up at me, then takes my dick.
Holy fuck. There aren’t words to describe this.
His mouth feels like all the ice of my soul melting into his fire.
Every piece of me dissolves into him at the first touch.
My eyes drop closed as he works a trail of pleasure through my core, up my back, down my arms, my thighs screaming for him when he sinks his fingers in, pushing them wide, my toes curling, all of me taut and coiled and ready to shatter.