Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
ANDRéS
We walk back to the hotel in silence. We have an agreement, so there’s nothing much left to say.
In a way, I miss his questions and his bright voice.
I don’t know why I propositioned him, except of course that he’s as cute as hell.
But I’ve met plenty of cute guys and haven’t tried to hook up with them.
Maybe it was his willingness to sort out the carrots for me, or the way he checked out my arse.
It could be his azure eyes—I’ve always been a sucker for blue-eyed boys—or the way he met Chispa.
I could tell he was nervous but he did it anyway.
His reaction to her was adorable. I could tell she liked him, and she’s a good judge of character.
I quickly shut the door to my suite behind us.
I’m true to my word; I’ll make sure no one knows he was here.
I see Simon’s eyes widen and he lets out a low whistle as he takes in the opulence of the suite.
I’m used to it, so I hadn’t considered his reaction.
It’s not what I would or even could choose for myself these days, but as I’m not paying I’m not going to complain about how someone else spends their money.
And Gabriel Barclay-Sinclair has a lot of money.
I dim the lights before taking off my coat, then I pull off my boots and walk over to the dresser where I grab some lube and a condom and put them somewhere handy.
Once I’ve put on some music—one of my classical playlists—and the sounds of Mendelssohn start to fill the room, I pull my sweater off.
I realise Simon hasn’t moved since he walked into the room.
I hope he hasn’t changed his mind, because since I voiced my offer, my cock has been aching to be squeezed between some sweet cheeks, and I bet his are very tasty.
“You’re a bit overdressed,” I say, walking to him while unbuttoning my shirt. l let it slide off my shoulders and onto the floor.
“Oh, yeah, right.” His eyes catch sight of my bare chest and he licks his lips. I catch his jaw in my hand, cupping it gently.
“I’m not averse to a fully dressed quickie if the situation demands it, but right now I want you naked.
” His eyes darken to a deep sapphire and I feel him tremble slightly.
His reaction to me has my dick almost bursting out of my jeans.
I look into those eyes and at his full, wet lips.
I want to kiss him but I don’t. It’s one of my rules with hookups—no kissing.
It’s far too intimate. Instead I wipe my thumb across his lips, and they feel as soft as they look.
His breath hitches and the ache in my groin worsens.
“Do you need any help?” I ask quietly, reminding him that he’s still wearing his coat.
“Oh god, sorry,” he says and steps backwards, breaking contact and starting to shrug off his clothes. “I’m not usually so um . . . so slow.”
“So you would’ve preferred the quickie out there in the barn, in the cold?” I quip, as I peel off my jeans and boxer shorts.
“I still would’ve said yes,” he replies, seemingly over his initial awe of the place as the last of his clothes land on the floor. His body is lean, with narrow hips—one with a curious tattoo—and a delightful treasure trail leading to his dick. A little shorter than mine, but thicker.
My own cock, now freed from its confines, bounces between my legs, long and heavy with need. His eyes fix on it and his tongue darts out to wet his lips again. I get a mental image of him on his knees, those gorgeous lips stretched round my cock as he takes it all.
“Well, maybe we’ll do that next time.” Fuck!
What am I doing, letting my dick do the talking?
This is a hookup; there won’t be a next time.
Annoyed with myself, I spin round and walk over to the bed, giving my brain time to register the logic that just because I said it doesn’t make it a promise.
I turn the lights down a little more and then reach my hand out to Simon.
He stumbles forward to take it. I pull him towards me and turn him round.
My no kissing rule only applies to mouths, so I plant a kiss on the back of his shoulder.
I run a hand down his back, enjoying the feel of his creamy soft skin.
He has a few faint freckles and a small mole above his arse crack, just right of centre, and I can’t help but run my fingers over it as if it’s a gateway to what lies below.
I trace a finger down his crease, and when I reach his hole his head drops forward and he utters a low, needy moan that travels straight to my balls. I can’t wait any longer.
“Kneel on the bed,” I say softly and he does. His arse is a perfect peach, the mole enhancing its beauty like the final mark of an artist bringing the masterpiece together. I knead his cheeks gently and then spread them.
“Fuck that’s a pretty pucker,” I murmur, the words out before I realise I’ve spoken aloud. He chuckles and gives a little wiggle so his hole winks at me. It’s a tasty looking cake. I’d love to lick it, suck it, devour it, and thoroughly wreck it.
“Are you going to just look at it all night?” he asks, bringing me out of my contemplation.
“It’s worthy of admiration,” I retort, picking up the lube and coating my fingers.
“It’s also worthy of fucking, so are you going to fill me with that big dick of yours or am I gonna have to beg?”
“The only begging you’ll be doing is for me to stop,” I growl.
“Good,” he says, and as I breach him with one finger, he pushes back until it can’t go any further. “Finally,” he sighs, as I give my finger a few sharp thrusts and twists.
I quickly add a second finger, scissoring them to open him further.
For all his talk I don’t want to hurt him.
Even when he utters that he’s ready I take a little more time, which produces a few impatient growls from him.
They’re adorable, and if it wasn’t for my balls aching like they’re about to explode, I’d be tempted to carry on just to hear him a few more times.
I tear open the condom and sheath my cock, smoothing some lube over the length.
At the sight of his hole, open and waiting for me, I can’t help but give myself a few long hard strokes . . . until I’m told off.
“Less looking, more fucking,” he says, and I chuckle because I like demanding bed partners.
I line my dick up with his hole and breach him with the tip.
I grab his hips to stop him thrusting back.
As much as I need this and want to be balls deep in him, I love that first feeling .
. . of the pressure building and his hole gripping each part of my length as I push deeper.
His low moan tells me he’s enjoying it too.
I pause for a couple of seconds as I bottom out, then I move with long thrusts, and give myself over to the rhythm.
I dig my fingers into his hips, moving him back and forth too.
Fuck, it’s been too long, and even longer since it was this good.
I pick up speed, ramming into him hard, a primal urge to fill him.
All I can hear is our panting breaths and the slap, slap, slap of flesh on flesh as the perfect accompaniment to a violin concerto.
The music reaches a crescendo as my balls tighten and I slam harder.
He cries out as his orgasm hits him, and his hole clenches round me, pulling mine from me.
Even then it takes me a while to stop moving.
I withdraw from him and he collapses forward onto the bed.
I pull off the condom, dropping it into the bin in the bathroom as I dampen a cloth for him to clean up.
He takes it from me, preferring to do it himself, which he does before handing it back.
When I get back from the bathroom he’s already reaching for his clothes.
“I should go, I have an early start.”
I do too, but I get what he means, and this is a hookup so there’s no reason to stay. As he pulls on his boxer briefs I see red marks blooming on his hips.
“Sorry about those.” I indicate and he looks at them.
“Oh, they’ll be fine. Something to remember you by when the burn in my arse has eased,” he says brightly with a smile. A strange sense of unease lodges in my chest at his words, as if I don’t want to just be something to be remembered, the memory fading like the colours of a bruise.
I sit on the bed as he finishes dressing.
“Well, um, thanks,” he says suddenly, sounding awkward.
“Thank you, Simon. I enjoyed that a lot.”
“Yeah, well, if you ever need some more, er . . . carrots for your horses, you know where I am.”
He goes to the door and pokes his head out, checking the corridor is empty before darting out.
The door shuts with a soft click behind him, and I stare at it for a while, the music still adding to a post-orgasm high that’s addled my brain.
Did he mean carrots, or was he offering me another hookup?
I never go back twice—it’s always been my rule, along with the no kissing—which has probably contributed to why I’ve had very few long-term relationships. But it’s always suited me that way.
I turn off the music and climb into bed. As I drift off to sleep, I wonder if Simon might be worth breaking my rule for. It won’t be for long anyway, as I fly out of here in five days to start my new life, so it can’t hurt.