24 Aubie
IF YOU HAD TOLD ME I’d be on my knees with my face buried in Cutter’s ass after he gave me the “we’d never work out” speech yesterday on my doorstep, I would’ve called you a liar. Not that I know what happens after something like that because, frankly, I’ve never been in this position before.
I’ve never craved someone enough to break all my rules.
I’ve never let feelings enter the picture.
Well, once. The beginning and end of my foray into the pitfalls of love.
And yet, here I am, and I can’t decide if I’m a fool or just that horny. All I know is I need more of him. Preferably with seconds and thirds.
And this time I’m not letting him run away. Judging by the noises he’s making as my tongue does its dirty work, he’s not interested in running anytime soon. I push his legs up over my shoulders, putting his lush ass on full display, and dig in.
“Jesus fuck,” he groans. “I…oh fuck. Right there.”
Guess I found what I was looking for. And now that I have, I give it my undivided attention until he’s whimpering and squirming like he’s just landed at the gateway of the almighty deity of lust. Glad I could help.
His dick is rock hard and standing at attention again, and while I’d like nothing more than to wrap my lips around it and feel it hitting the back of my throat, I want to take my time and savor this sensation because fuck knows when I’ll have him like this again.
Yeah, he came here of his own free will and he stayed after railing me like a madman because he’s currently at the mercy of my unrelenting mouth, but who knows what fucked up nonsense his head will start spinning once he walks out my door.
I mean, I only know what he’s told me, but it’s obvious he has issues. Don’t we all?
Not that this whole thing isn’t fucked up. I still think he’s an uptight dick and he still hates my guts for being me, but I guess lust is the great mediator. Maybe I should put that on a T-shirt.
Right now the only thing on my mind is driving him crazy with my tongue. I have it on good authority that it’s up to the task, so I give him my A-plus treatment.
His cock is leaking profusely now, leaving a slick spot on his droolworthy abs. When he reaches for it, I bat his hand away and growl, “No touching.”
“But I need–”
“I’ll decide what you need.”
I expect some push back on that, but he just moans and clenches his fists at his side. That lasts about a minute.
“Fuck, Aubie, can you just touch my cock?”
I smile to myself. Oh baby, I’ll do more than touch it.
When I’m sure I’ve got him on the verge of coming, I finally pull back and transfer my attention from his ass to his cock. He moans as I lick around his head, slurping up the precum gathered there. “Is that what you need, baby?”
“God, fuck, yes.” He grabs my head and tries to force it down.
“Patience,” I warn, resisting his efforts. “Want me to stop?”
He sighs. “You’re such a brat.”
“Guilty as charged.”
And because I’m not just a brat, I’m the brat, the prince of brats, the savant of prickteasers, I close my lips around his head and…
Ever.
So.
Slowly.
Suck him all the way in until his crown hits the back of my throat. His back arches, his fingers tangling in my hair as I swallow around him.
“Fuuuuck.”
There are advantages to being a slut. Experience has taught me all the right buttons to push to get what I want, and right now I want him obsessed with me. I want him thinking about me long after he’s gone. I want him tossing and turning all night with a swollen cock while my name crosses his lips.
I want him pining for me.
Like I’ve been pining for him.
That’s the part I don’t want to think about. What am I going to do after he’s gone? Because we’ve already seen evidence of his effect tonight at SPREE. My cock has suddenly become a finicky eater and the only one it seems to respond to is this asshole right here.
It would be easier if I could go back to hating him. Objectively, I still do. But I’ve kind of become a fan of his cock and unfortunately, they’re a package deal.
I give that cock all my closest attention right now, twisting my tongue around it while I slide it in and out of my mouth until he’s so stiff and throbbing I’m sure he’ll burst. Meanwhile I give his balls equal treatment, rolling and caressing them in my palm until he bucks against my mouth, his fingers tearing at my hair.
His grip is so tight I’m sure he’s going to rip it out by the roots.
All the while his moans and gasping breaths are music to my ears. Words are even better.
“I’ve never…that feels…fuck me…I’m going to come.”
Give it to me, baby. I want to make you die a thousand deaths while my mouth devours you.
His movements become more erratic and then he tenses and a moment later his cock explodes in my mouth. I swallow it all down, slurping his cum up the sides and licking it off his head as I pull off.
“Jesus,” he pants, his cum-drunk eyes staring down at me. “How can I come again that hard?”
“Maybe I’m just that good,” I smirk.
Although, if I’m being honest, I did kind of outdo myself there. My jaw is sore from how hard I was sucking him, but I’ll never admit that. Instead I’ll just chalk it up to inspiration. He brings out a side to me I’ve never known, and it’s kind of freaking me out.
Since when do I get invested in rocking a lover’s world?
Since when do I want to experience it again right away?
Cutter Knight is dangerous to my sanity.
And yet, I’ll cut anyone who tries to take him away from me.
I crawl up his body and straddle his legs, planting my ass over his shrinking cock and seeking his lips. He welcomes my mouth enthusiastically, practically gnawing on my tongue.
The kiss becomes frenzied and desperate, like we’re starving men in the middle of a desert. Tongues tangling, teeth gnashing. Breath mingling. I can’t get enough of him, and I’ll worry later about how much my body wants it to go on forever.
Meanwhile my own dick is painfully hard and begging for attention. I grind my ass against his lap while giving my cock a long slow stroke. I pick up the pace, aching to come.
He watches me, his expression conflicted, until he reaches out and closes his hand around mine.
“Let me?”
He wants to touch me? Yes, please. I withdraw my hand and he closes his fist around my length and picks up my previous rhythm, his eyes never leaving mine. “Is this right?”
The baby bi vibes are adorable. “Perfect,” I assure him, leaning my head back and closing my eyes, reveling in the reality that Cutter is stroking my cock. The man who hates my guts. Who thinks I’m a morally-bankrupt fuckboy. That man.
Sure, he fucked me, but his dick was getting something out of that. This is different. He’s doing this purely for me. To make me feel good.
Something about that causes my chest to tighten. I blink back the emotions that try to swim to the surface. We’ll have none of that.
My cock is leaking enough that he doesn’t need any lube, not that I would let him stop long enough to get it. The feel of his rough hand around me ensures this won’t take long.
“I’m close,” I gasp, my body shuddering with need.
“Then come.”
When he says that in his deep authoritative voice, I’m done for. My cock erupts, shooting long ropes of cum onto his stomach and chest. I’m not even a little sorry about creating a mess because he looks delicious with my cum all over him.
When my heartbeat levels out and my brain comes back online, I give him a satisfied smile then dip my finger into the offering on his chest and bring it to his mouth.
“Taste what you did to me, baby.”
I know he hates the endearment, and really, I don’t want to spoil the mood, but I can’t resist. Besides, I deserve a break.
That may be the best handjob I’ve ever received.
The person doing it may have something to do with that, but I refuse to go there right now.
Let me enjoy this before having an existential crisis.
“Is that the first time you’ve tasted another man’s cum?” I ask as I pull my finger out of his mouth. He nods, wide-eyed. “Maybe next time you can graduate to a blowjob.”
Now I know I took it too far. His eyes cloud as a frown appears. He looks around, like he’s just realizing where he is. Cue the escape music.
But he doesn’t throw me off him and make a mad dash for the door. Instead, he takes a deep breath and blows it out like he’s resolving something. “What are we doing?”
Good question. I don’t have any fucking idea, but I’m very open to exploring it further. Even if it includes scary things like feelings.
“Do we have to label it?”
I expect an argument. His patented uptightness rearing its ugly head. “I guess not,” he replies, surprising me.
“In that case, mind if I make a suggestion?”
He eyes me suspiciously. “O…kay?”
“Don’t look so scared.” I push myself to my feet and hold out my hand. “Let me show you something.”
He looks ready to bolt, but he still follows me to my bedroom. I keep my eyes on him, willing him to stay with me. To not shut down and freak out. His eyes flicker around the room when we enter it, widening at the sight of my bed.
Yeah, it’s a showstopper. My custom-made playpen.
Everything about it is bespoke, from the size of the sturdy four-poster iron frame and padded headboard to the cloudlike mattress to the handmade bed linens.
Sure, they can be a pain to clean up, but they look gorgeous and feel heavenly against bare skin.
This room is my ode to sensuality. My own version of a sultan’s palace. Everything is plush and color-drenched and invites long lazy tumbles among those silky linens.
“Wait here,” I say, then slip into the bathroom for a washcloth. Surprisingly he doesn’t move, standing patiently while I clean him off. When I’m done, I throw the cloth aside and reach down to pull off my sweater.
“Hope you don’t mind if I lose this now, but I really…” I raise up and brush my lips across his. “Really.” Another kiss. “Want to feel my naked skin against yours.”
I smile to myself as his cock twitches. So he does still want to play.