23 Cutter #3
His fingers claw at my ass, his lips hovering over my ear. “Harder, baby. Fuck me harder.”
I guess I am subconsciously holding back. So used to a woman. Not wanting to hurt her.
But this isn’t a woman. Aubie may not be beefy, but he is a man. All sharp angles and rough edges.
All tight muscles and deep moans.
I up the pace, thrusting harder. Pulling out slower. Finding a rhythm that keeps those filthy moans I can’t get enough of coming from him.
Aubie is a vocal lover. Between the moans, he keeps up a running stream of curses and encouragement.
“Oh yes, baby, just like that…you’re fucking me so good…Your cock fills me so…
Once annoying, now I can’t get enough of his voice. I can’t get deep enough. I can’t thrust hard enough. I want to claim him. To consume him like he’s consumed me lately.
His mouth closes over mine and I become lost in chasing his tongue.
In tasting his lips. In breathing his air.
Our bodies move together in perfect synchronicity.
It’s like he anticipates my every need before I do.
How is that possible? How can my heart pound so hard people outside could hear it?
How can my skin feel like a live wire, searing me everywhere his body touches mine?
How can I crave something like it’s oxygen?
All the reasons why this is such a bad idea fly out the window. I can’t think past his lips. His ass. His sweet, sexy moans.
I can feel my balls growing heavy, my body tensing. “Fuuuuck,” he moans, and the sound of his need drives me right over the edge.
Something short circuits in my brain, like there’s too much current in the lines. I bite down on his lip and thrust my cock as deep as it will go. Until I’m sure I’ve wrecked us both.
I can understand speaking in tongues, because there’s nothing recognizable in the words coming out of my mouth. Nothing rational about the way my body loses all control. About the way I want this moment to go on forever.
And then, when I’ve almost come back online, Aubie’s cum splashes across my chest, hitting my chin. He came hands free. All because of me? I look down at him and he offers me a dreamy smile.
“Fucking hell, baby. That was…intense.”
I don’t know where intense rates in a fuckboy’s greatest hits, but it’s pretty much blown anything I’ve experienced out of the water.
How can that be? How can I get off like that with a man? With this man?
Aubie reaches up and grabs my chin, forcing me to meet his eyes. “Hey. Get out of your head.”
“How do you–?
“Know? It’s not too hard to figure out. You’re freaking out about the gay thing again, aren’t you?” He leans up and presses his lips to mine and the panic inside retreats. “It’s not the end of the world, you know?”
“It’s not that,” I insist. “I just…I’ve always pictured myself as normal.”
“Normal?” he scoffs. “As in, straight?”
I feel like an idiot. “Yeah.”
“And what makes you think being gay isn’t normal? It’s normal for the people who identify with it.”
Now I really feel like an idiot. I’m not a homophobe. “I know. I just, well, I always had this plan, and well…” What? Fuck it. “Nothing else is going according to it, so why should this be any different?”
I push up, watching my cock slide out of his ass. The sight almost causes me to get hard again. I roll the condom off and look around for some place to dispose of it. He takes it from me and drops it on the floor, then lowers his legs and scoots up on the couch.
“The problem with plans is life is messy.”
“So you’re saying I shouldn’t have a plan for my life?”
“You can have all the plans you want, but don’t expect everything to fall in line with them. Especially if it involves other people. People are always going to be an unknown variable.” I can’t tell if it’s regret or bitterness that laces his remark. “Why do you need a plan?” he presses.
“I–” I hesitate. What was I going to say? That I need to control my future? For what?
For who?
I don’t have anyone but myself to worry about. And ever since I climbed aboard the sobriety wagon, I’ve been living like a monk. I get up. I work out. Go to the club. Come home. Rinse and repeat.
I keep telling myself I should have some kind of direction. I did when I was pitching. Everything was about winning the next game. Attracting the right scouts. Making it to the big leagues.
And then what? I thought I had a life plan with Amber, and we all know how that turned out.
So what does a plan look like for me now? I’m too old for baseball; I’d kill myself if I got on a diamond now. I haven’t dated anyone in over seven years. The only intimate connection I’ve had in all that time is with a bratty slut.
A bratty slut who makes me feel things I’ve never felt before.
A bratty slut who reaches over and closes his hand around my cock and in a voice that sends shivers through me, says, “Maybe you should just try living in the moment for a change.”
Before I can respond to that, he slides off the couch and crawls between my legs. “What are you doing?”
“I told you I’d eat your ass after you fucked me.”
And he proceeds to do just that.