Five #4
His breath brushed my skin. “Oh good, because I probably wasn’t going to.”
Kneeling before me in only a towel, Miles took me inside his mouth again, the moan that emerged from my lips as my dick hit the back of his throat one of the most pathetic sounds I had ever made.
He didn’t seem to mind, working up a slow rhythm of full slides, the wet clicks of his mouth taking on a faint echo in the tiny bathroom.
God, he was beautiful, all long limbs and lean muscle and grace, his damp hair dark like it was on court when sweat turned it brown.
I wanted to curl my fingers into it but didn’t dare, because he wasn’t mine to touch – no one was; that the lonely truth about being The Gay Player on tour.
I was acceptable while I was sexless and unthreatening, while I was just an object of curiosity with whom anyone could have their ten-second gay panic, but the moment I wanted, lusted, needed, I was dangerous.
And so I kept my hands away and let him dictate terms, let him grab my arse and suck my dick and it really didn’t feel like I was losing.
Not while I could see my cock stretching the top of Miles Callahan’s throat.
Just watching him was enough to send me over the edge all too soon, but as I started to tense, my fingers and toes curling and every breath coming fast, Miles stopped. He let my dick slide from his mouth and looked up, his lips pink and wet and his eyes dancing. “How’re you doing up there?”
“How am I—? You—I—fuck.” I released a shaky breath, half laugh, half agony. I’d been so close and he knew it. I wanted to push my cock back into his mouth and he knew that too. To keep from the impulse, I stroked myself, only for Miles to grab my hand and pin it to the glass behind me.
“No cheating,” he murmured, and keeping his hand splayed over mine, once more slid his lips over the head of my cock.
After the cool air, his mouth was all the hotter and I hissed out a string of barely intelligible curses as he eased back into his slow rhythm with the resolve of one who could play baseline rallies all day.
Beside the sink, his phone vibrated. It was probably Tina calling to check he was on his way to the damn stylist, but Miles ignored it, sliding the circle of his lips along my shaft and drawing me back toward my thwarted climax.
With his phone ringing, I was sure he would finish me off this time, but again he got me close and stopped. I breathed out a frustrated groan and tilted my head back against the shower screen. “I hate you,” I said, and managed a glancing touch of my cock before he once again pushed my hand away.
“No. Cheating.”
My groan became a laugh and I nodded toward the sink. “Your phone is ringing.”
“I know. Ignore it.”
“It’s probably Tina.”
“And she can wait. I’m busy. Unless,” he looked up at me, dark eyes holding an amused challenge, “you want me to stop?”
When I didn’t answer, his smile grew satisfied and he dropped his head, swallowing me again.
I very much did not want him to stop. He was going to be late and his sister was going to murder me, but it was impossible to care while he had my whole dick in his mouth and was looking up at me like he was savouring the final piece of that ridiculous chocolate cake.
I was utterly his to toy with and toy he did, stopping and starting and leaving me in thwarted agony while his phone rang again and again.
“Please,” I said, once he’d worn down my self-control to the point of begging. He showed no sign of hearing me, but when climax once again approached, he didn’t pull away. I tapped his head in case he wished to spare himself a mouthful. “Miles. Miles!”
He kept going, and as I tensed, he gripped my arse with both hands and swallowed me all the way. Buried in his throat, I came with a cry that tore up my own and filled the room, ringing off glass and tile and sure to be heard by the entire building.
“Fuck,” I breathed when I was capable of words again. “Fuck.”
Slowly, he pulled away, leaving me hypersensitive and utterly spent, the screen behind me all that kept me standing. He pushed to his feet, and though he adjusted his towel as he rose, it couldn’t hide the straining arousal of his own cock tucked away beneath.
“I thought you didn’t have time for blowjobs,” he said with a demure smile, wiping saliva from his reddened lower lip with his thumb. “Must be nice to be wrong.”
That was my cue to say something witty, but I had nothing. Miles reached past me for his phone. The lock screen was full of missed calls and messages. “I’d better go before Tina kills me.”
For the all-too-manyeth time, his phone rang. Instead of answering, he hooked a finger beneath my chin and pressed a kiss to my lips – his soft and warm and faintly salty in the aftermath. “Enjoy your evening.”
“You—” I cleared my throat and tried again. “You too.”
Miles grinned, all unbearable smugness. And pausing only to flick the tip of my nose, he walked out leaving me propped against the shower in a state of shock.