Chapter 4
THE WAY YOU DO THE THINGS YOU DO
MICHAEL
How could I refuse an order like that?
I’d dreamed of this for the better part of a year, ever since Mick and his friends had walked into Le Duce for the first time.
I might have made it happen sooner, if I’d tried hard enough.
Mick was as free with his physical affection as I was and would have been happy for a roll in the hay.
I’d always put off doing anything with him in the vain hope that we might come to be more than just a one night stand.
It was clear that wasn’t going to happen, though, so if one night was all I’d get with him, I’d take it. Letting go of his soft, fiery waves was a challenge, but knowing what was coming next, I could manage it. Grabbing his hand, I pulled us out of the lounge towards my bedroom.
We didn’t even make it out of the door before Mick was plastered against my back, kissing my neck again.
His hands wrapped around my front, and it made walking very difficult, like having a very sexy eleven-stone koala bear attached to me.
By the time we hobbled to my bedroom, my shirt was already undone.
Slipping it down my arms–thankfully I’d unbuttoned my cuffs as soon as we got in–he dropped it on the floor, turned me around, and kissed me all in one swift movement.
Forcing myself not to think about my crumpled silk shirt on the floor, I let his needy kisses distract me.
God, this boy could kiss. In my dreams, he’d always been a good lover, but reality didn’t always live up to fantasy.
I was so glad it did in this case. A pain shot through my heart as I remembered that this was a one-off, and tomorrow I’d go back to my affection being unreturned.
Fuck it. I didn’t care. This would be enough.
Maybe it would even put an end to my stupid crush.
Cushiony pink lips moved over mine with confidence, followed by his tongue sliding against mine, making my skin tingle in excitement. Appreciative noises came from him and gave me goosebumps.
Good kissers were so few and far between, with most men caring more about where they could put their dick than any kind of foreplay.
Not Mick, though. We’d been at this for a good ten minutes and he hadn’t even touched me there, just achingly good kisses and delicious friction between our bodies while we had danced.
As we kissed slowly and deeply, he hooked his thumbs over my belt, then used his fingers to untuck my cotton undershirt, brushing my bare skin lightly as he dropped the hem.
I gasped into his mouth, and he pulled away, turning my gasp into a whine.
Opening my eyes just in time to catch his smug but adorable grin, another indecent noise came from me when he trailed kisses back down my throat.
There had been more kissing and caressing this evening than there had in my last ten encounters.
I wasn’t complaining–it was fucking glorious–but he was going to ruin me for other men.
He’d already done that long before this happened by just existing.
I’d been obsessed with him since not long after we’d met and made no effort to find anything more than a shag with anyone because no relationship could live up to the imaginary one I had with him in my dreams. Now it seemed he was so bloody good in bed that no other men would live up to him there either.
Tonight’s sex would have to keep me going for… well, forever I supposed.
Soft lips travelled down my neck while hands traced invisible patterns over the small of my back and the very top of my bum.
He tugged on the hem of my thin white vest, and I stretched my arms up as he pulled it up over my head.
Throwing it down to join my shirt, he grabbed my hips, holding me in front of him as his eyes grazed over my naked torso.
I felt self-conscious all of a sudden, which was not a familiar feeling for me.
I was skinny and my complexion was reminiscent of milk, but I’d never minded being naked or looked at–especially by my bed partners.
It wasn’t even the fact that he was still fully-dressed, because I found that quite thrilling.
It was just that I wanted him to like what he saw.
I suppose there was a part of me, a voice in the back of my head, that said if he enjoyed this we could do it again, and then it might become a regular thing, and then maybe–just maybe–I’d get really lucky and he’d develop feelings for me.
Total nonsense of course; it would never happen, and I knew it.
Gliding his hands over my back, his rough fingertips danced over my shoulder blades, around to my collar bone, then his mouth took over.
I tried to concentrate on what was going on.
It would be bloody typical of me to finally get what I’d wanted for a year and then spend the whole time worrying and sleepwalk through the whole thing.
Mick’s kisses carried on down my chest, and when he reached my nipple and swirled his tongue around it, I shoved my hands into his hair and groaned.
He huffed out a little approving grunt and continued pressing his soft lips down my chest. The warm, wet sensation of his mouth on my chilled skin was heavenly, and I didn’t register what was happening until my belt, button, and zip were all undone and Mick was on his knees in front of me pulling my dick out of my briefs.
In another second, he leaned forward and closed his thick lips around the head, with his hand clasping the shaft.
My hands were still in his hair, and I couldn’t help but grip those curls due to the unexpected but very welcome blow job I was receiving.
Making sure to cover his teeth with his lips, he sucked on the head of my dick.
“Oh my fuck! Shitting hell! Fuck. Shit. So good.”
He giggled around my dick, and the vibrations sent new waves of pleasure through me and new strings of nonsense into the air. Bobbing his head up and down with my dick held tight in his mouth made my foreskin slide smoothly up and down over the sensitive head.
Every few seconds, on the downstroke, he’d dart the tip of his tongue out and gobble up the drips of pre-come leaking from my slit.
He was so fucking good at this. A horrible pang of jealousy ran through me as I thought about how many times he must have done this to have become this skilled at it, but I shoved the unwanted thought to the back of my mind.
When his hand came off my dick, I nearly begged him to put it back. Then he slid his mouth further down my shaft in its place, and thrust his hand inside my underwear to squeeze my balls. A cry of pleasure flew from my lips.
What must the neighbours think? I thought vaguely, then very quickly stopped caring as he pushed my trousers and briefs down in one go, stroking my arse as he went.
I stepped out of them, and they pooled on the floor, another victim of sartorial neglect that I might regret in the morning but currently didn't give a shit about.
Cupping my arse with his large, rough hands, he forced my dick further into his mouth, and I was amazed I didn’t come there and then.
Alternating between sucking and licking the head with long slow drags of his mouth up and down the length, he was making me see stars.
I couldn’t take my eyes off him devouring my dick, my hands loosely curled around the fiery strands of his hair.
As if he sensed me watching him, he tilted his head back, locking onto my gaze, and fuck me, if that wasn’t the most sinfully beautiful thing I’d ever seen in my life.
Determined as I was to burn this sight into my memory, when his fingers reached around my buttocks and teased my hole, I threw my head back, my eyes slamming shut as bright lights filled my vision.
Circling over the furled skin, he paused and pulled off my dick.
I would have complained at the loss, but I was so close to climax that the pause was welcome.
“You got any Vaseline?” he asked, his voice husky.
“Mmmhmm.” I nodded. “Drawer. Bedside. Cabinet.” I panted each word out between breaths.
“Hang on.” But before I could move, he’d gone to the drawers and retrieved the lubricant.
Stumbling backwards, the backs of my knees hit the bed, and I sat down.
Mick came around and sat next to me, still fully clothed.
Before I could start to feel awkward, he reached his hand up to push a stray lock of hair away from my eyes and leaned in to kiss me.
The slow kisses turned heated, and his hands roamed all over my body. I stripped off his clothes, desperate to feel his skin against mine. Once we were both naked, he gripped my hips and pulled me down, and I sat on his lap for the second time tonight. It was much better without clothes.
The noise of the lid unscrewing from the Vaseline jar was loud in the small room, and it made my dick twitch with anticipation.
“Someone’s eager,” he said with a grin.
“Very. Hurry up, please.” I gyrated my hips, grinding my arse over his hard dick to emphasise the point. Instead of getting on with the job at hand, he stopped, his fingers covered in the lubricant hovering in the air.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, trying not to sound impatient.
“I didn’t ask if you wanted me to fuck you.”
“Yes, you did.”
“No, I asked where you kept the Vaseline. It’s not the same.”
“I understood the meaning. But if you need an express invitation, yes, I would very much like you to fuck me. Now, please.”
“Message received loud and clear.” He mock-saluted with the dry hand and moved his other behind me. One slick finger pushed into me with relative ease, the slight sting turning me on more than hurting, as evident by my moan.