Chapter 12
Jarvis
"Just so we're clear." I'm under Anson but draw back just enough to get a full view of his handsome face after getting my throat fucked by Anson's wickedly talented tongue. "Jumping straight to number two means agreement with point one?"
He smiles like I've never seen before, like we've crossed the threshold of some invisible barrier. "Yes, baby. I agree. And I want you to know that I meant what I said. I want to get to know you as a person. This is more than just physical attraction for me."
The casual dropping of the endearment, the tenderness of his words, all amazing, but I want Anson so bad I could die.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah. That's all well and good, but you do want to fuck me, right?"
A chuckle leaves his lips. "I do."
I glance over to my right, to a hallway I've never been down before but that I assume leads to the bedroom wing of this ginormous penthouse. "Well?"
"There's no need to rush. We can take all the time we need. I want to do this right."
"Tell you what? I'll answer any three questions you have about me, then you can fuck me." Another chuckle, and I'm so addicted to the sound, determined to find new, outrageous things to say and do just to keep drawing it out of him.
"You're sure?"
"I am. After all, I'm here to give you a workout, and I have some seriously heart-pumping things in mind for today's session."
"In that case…" He rolls off me, grabs my hand, and we cross the room, two men on a mission.
His place is so big, he actually gets a chance to ask three rapid-fire questions on the way to his bedroom. Bonus points, they weren't standard, tired ones, either.
Messy or made bed? Messy, because why should it be any different to the rest of my apartment? Or my life. (I only think that last part and don't say it out loud.)
Introvert, extrovert, or something in between? Mainly extrovert, but I don't mind occasional alone time.
Comfort movie? Pitch Perfect. I have it on in the background at least once a week.
We burst into his bedroom, which, like everything else, is also about twice the size of my shoebox apartment, and immediately resume getting busy, which means I don't get to notice any of the details other than the bed. As we kiss, rough, passionate, urgent, we inch closer to it.
I try to unbutton his shirt, but the damn buttons are too small and buttony, so I let out a frustrated growl. And then, in a move that will go down as the all-time hottest thing I've ever witnessed, Anson just rips the damn thing straight off his chest.
"Holy fuck." I lunge into his arms and wrap my legs around him without thinking of the implications and start kissing the ever-loving heck out of him.
By the time it hits me I might be too heavy, he's walked us both to his bed.
After lowering me onto it, he finishes the private strip show by taking off his pants and briefs and standing buck naked in front of a very appreciative audience.
"Holy fucking shit."
He smirks, placing his hands on his hips. "You like?"
I nod enthusiastically. My eyes are going out of their damn mind taking in every hard line, every solid muscle, of his impeccable body.
And his cock? It's the reason why bottom's bottom. Long, girthy as all hell, with a glistening mushroom head.
I steady my roaming eyes, settling on his face, marveling at how different he looks in the short span of time since he opened the front door to our first session. I feel like this version is closer to who he really is.
He approaches me. "May I?"
"Of course," I reply, letting him undress me as he kisses me.
Maybe it helps that he's already seen me naked, but I don't feel any trace of self-consciousness about my body. That little voice in the back of my head that's constantly reminding me of my flabby bits is dormant. Good. I hope it never wakes up again.
Once I'm fully naked, he braces my shoulders and looks me up and down, the head of his dick beading with even more pre-cum. "God, you're so beautiful."
My cheeks warm, but I accept the compliment because in his presence, I feel beautiful. "Thank you," I say, before dropping to my knees, keen to get my first taste of Anson.
I swipe my tongue gently across his slit, lapping up his glistening arousal. It's warm and salty and delicious.
Cupping his mammoth balls in one hand, I go down on him, working more and more of his length into my mouth until I make it all the way down. Tears form in my eyes, and my throat has never been fuller, but this is bliss. Pure bliss.
I pull all the way back and stare up. Anson smiles, gliding his fingers along my jaw, looking at me like I’m something he never thought he’d find. Or maybe I'm projecting because that's how I feel about him.
I smear his cock along my freckled cheeks, wanting to have this precious part of him not just in me, but on me.
"That's so fucking hot, baby."
"Being called baby is so fucking hot," I tell him.
"You like it?"
"No." I lick the new beads of pre-cum that have oozed out of him. "I love it."
Another guttural growl escapes him, and then I go ham on his cock, sliding up and down on him like the desperate, hungry cocksucker I want to be for him.