Chapter 5
RHYS
The look Sev was giving me was unlike anything I’d ever experienced before. I’d had plenty of wham-bam encounters before, but this wasn’t that. He was too delicious to resist. His hand was buried in my hair, gripping the roots like he might fly off the planet if he weren’t anchored.
His hips started rolling in time with his moans, so I went a little deeper, sucked a little harder as I pumped up and down on his shaft.
“Fuck, I’m going to come,” he warned, his voice shredded.
God, I wanted to taste him. Needed it. Tightening my hold, I thumbed his hip bones as I continued to work him over, unable to rip my eyes from his. Seconds later he arched, shouting as his musky, bitter heat filled the back of my throat. I swallowed quickly, greedy for this part of him.
Once I was satisfied that I’d properly drained him, I stood between his thighs, forcing them apart again.
His softening cock listed to the side, sticky against his perfect abs.
The chemistry between us was dizzying and perfect.
I loved the way this tough chef looked like he was about to melt into the countertop.
Even the way his jeans were jammed halfway down his thighs made me want to take up painting so that I could capture this scene of satisfaction and debauchery.
“Next time I need a piece of steak to rest, I won’t use a timer. I’ll just ask for a blow job,” he said, voice cracking, finally breaking the spell.
“I’m here to serve,” I said, kissing him until I felt dizzy with need. “Want your hands on me.”
I stepped back and he slid off the counter, nearly losing his balance when the jeans fell to his ankles. Laughing, I helped him with his jeans and underwear as he regained his equilibrium.
Running my nose in his hair, I wondered how he took his coffee. When he sat his butt against the edge of the counter, I thought briefly of the fact that I’d always wanted a dog, and was dying to know his stance on pets.
Pulling me in close, he buried his face in my chest. “Mm, titties.”
A shocked laugh spilled out of me, even as I wrapped my arms around him. “I don’t think anybody’s ever called them that before.”
“I have an oral fixation, especially with nipples, and I will not apologize for it,” he said, his voice muffled.
I grimaced, admitting, “I don’t think I’ve ever had someone give more than passing attention to my nipples.”
He made a growling sound and smashed his face even harder against my chest. “I am about to open up an entire universe for you,” he promised before stepping back enough to run his nose over a taut, fabric-covered bud.
“Shit.” I gripped his shoulders. “I felt that in my balls.”
“You like that?” he asked, looking up through his lashes at me as his fingers found each nipple, pinching and twisting them lightly over my shirt.
“More than I would’ve guessed.” I groaned, hyperaware of how hard I’d gotten.
He dropped his fingers to the bulge in my jeans, caressing it. “Can I take care of that for you?”
“Please,” I begged, unable to speak much more than that.
Opening my trousers, he dipped his hand into my underwear, gripping me tight as he stretched up for a kiss.
I pressed him against the counter, trapping his hand as I pumped my hips. “Need it,” I whispered as he tightened his grip and began to slide up and down my shaft.
I realized belatedly that he was cut and I wasn’t, and I wondered if he… oh. Yeah, he seemed to know what to do with an intact cock. He pulled back, dribbling a bit of spit on the head. He then dragged the foreskin up and around it, spreading the spit around while blowing my fucking mind.
“You like this, big boy?”
“Sev,” I grunted in agreement.
Speeding up his hand, he tightened his grip ever so slightly, rolling my foreskin over the head even better than I could’ve done for myself.
“About to g-g-get messy,” I gritted out, unable to stop where we were going.
Kneeling quickly, he swallowed me and my knees nearly buckled.
I reached out, grabbing the counter, bridging over his head as he took me all the way to the back of his throat.
His hands encouraged my hips to move, so I rolled them once, twice, and then—fuck—I was gone.
So gone. His whining pitched up as I unloaded down the back of his throat.
“Fuck me spi-spinning.”
That’s about as elegant as I could be after coming that hard.
He smiled up at me, then kissed the tip of my cock and tucked me away, fixing my clothes as he stood.
His thumbs automatically sought out my sensitive nipples, rubbing the fabric over them.
I jerked but didn’t pull away, needing this sensation in my life.
We kissed a bit more until finally he stepped back.
“Sadly, the steak is rested enough. We don’t want it to get cold,” he said, sounding like he really hated taking his hands off my body.
I reached for the salad bowl and held it tight against my chest, as if to protect myself. “Can’t have that.”
Sev grabbed the platter and I followed him to a small dining table already set with pretty white plates and aggressive steak knives.
Dinner was amazing. Stunning. The best salad I’d ever had, the best steak I’d ever had, the best blow job I’d ever had. At the end he reached out and grabbed my hand.
“You’ve been a little quiet. Are you okay?”
I laughed and pushed my completely empty dinner plate away from me.
“No, ass-asshole. Asshole. I’m just—”
Fuck, the word was stuck, and the creaky clicking in the back of my throat meant that the word wasn’t going to be appearing anytime soon.
I ground my molars, shaking my head.
“I—”
Fuck.
“So… so…”
Frustrated, I gave up and signed sorry.
His brows shot toward his forehead. “Did you just sign sorry to me?”
I nodded, signing yes because sometimes it was easier to use my rudimentary sign language than to speak.
“Oh God. Do you know more sign language than I do?”
I laughed, signaling that my throat had finally relaxed. “May—maybe?”
Sev leaned back, crossing his arms over his well-formed chest. “Alright, then. Give it to me. Let’s see if I’ve retained anything at all.”
Rolling my eyes, I signed my response, fingerspelling where I needed, Best food. Best orgasm. If tomorrow you g-h-o-s-t, I sad. Very sad. But r-e-g-r-e-t nothing.
Sev’s faced scrunched up in concentration, adorable as hell for a guy wearing motorcycle boots.
“I got that you liked the meal. Which, duh,” he bragged, his grin entirely too smug. “I just don’t know the sign you did in front of your nose, though.”
I smiled, and then took a deep breath. “O—rgasm,” I said deliberately.
“Ah. Well. This is the sign for ghost,” he said, demonstrating it, “and I would never do that. Hell, after tonight I plan on being an entire problem for you.”
I laughed. “I just meant that I’d be sad if you gho—sted me…” I had to slow down my pace, but he didn’t seem to mind that it took me a moment. “But that if you di—d, I’d still remember tonight fondly.”
“Damn right you would.”
Sev had a flush on his cheeks and I tilted my head. “Are you blushing? I didn’t know badass chefs could blush.”
His hand, resting on the table, flipped up, and he shot me the bird.
“I’m just embarrassed you know sign language better than I do.”
“Mmhmm. Sure.”
Grabbing my hand, he pulled it toward his mouth, kissing each knuckle. “Seriously, though. I’m impressed. You have a decent handle on the vocabulary.”
I shrugged. “I was the youngest of seven, and my mom and dad didn’t have any patience for a kid who couldn’t spit things out, so they learned some basic signs.”
He shook his head. “That sounds both shitty and supportive.”
I worked my jaw from side to side. “That’s actually a pretty accurate description of my childhood.
I got the things I needed, but I knew pretty early on that I was an oops kid, and that it was best if I remained unobtrusive.
That was difficult, considering I was already six foot tall by the time I’d turned thirteen. ”
He snarled and it warmed my heart.
“What about your parents?” I asked, pushing Sev’s foot with mine under the table.
“I was an absolute nightmare growing up, getting into fights, hanging around all the wrong people. But... they were patient with me. When I told them I was gay, they rolled with it. When I told them I wanted to be a chef, they didn’t try to tell me that there’s not a lot of money in it or that the hours suck.
They just helped me find the best culinary school in Austin and made sure I got the scholarships I needed to pay for it. ”
“Damn,” I whispered. “I wish I knew what that felt like. The only reason I was able to play rugby is because an uncle played it when he was young, and he took an interest.”
“You deserved it,” he said, his voice deepening.
“When I contracted meningitis, my parents made sure I had the best doctors, the best occupational therapists, and the best options they could afford on their limited income. Even with the cochlear implant, they didn’t push.
I could get it or not, and we’d figure it out.
We quickly realized that we could only afford the one, but they found a grant to get me a more advanced processor. ”
“Sounds like they really supported you.”
“They did. Do. Part of my frustration has been just the absolute fucking struggle with the technology because they sacrificed so much to get it for me. I’ve been terrified—straight up, terrified – that my doctor will need to go in and redo the surgery, which was awful the first time around.”
“I bet.”
“I was dizzy for weeks after because, you know, they’re doing a lot of work near shit that affects your balance.”
I could barely imagine what he had gone through, so I simply nodded.
“I knew that the way I processed sound would change,” he continued, weaving his fingers with mine.
“I’d anticipated how awful it would be to have to get used to things sounding so different, but just yesterday, my doctor admitted that me not knowing what things were supposed to sound like made it difficult for us to realize that there was something wrong with the technology. ”
“Shit, dude. That sounds miserable.”
“Pretty sure I’ve been making the people around me miserable for it, too.” He scratched his nose. “And then I saw the way my words impacted you, and I don’t think I’ve ever felt so much shame in my entire life.”
I lowered my head. “I wouldn’t want that for you.”
“No, it was necessary. The thing is, I knew I had a new processor coming in, but the manufacturer had been dawdling. I should’ve pushed the date.
Or at least done something to get myself into a better attitude.
My audiologist like family at this point, and when I told him that my processor ruined our date, he called up the manufacturer and screamed at someone until they promised to overnight the replacement. ”
“Shit, really?”
Sev shrugged. “Yep. When we tested it out this morning, I could immediately tell the difference. To be honest, I was just so fucking relieved that it was a processor issue and not an implant issue.”
“I’m glad you have what you need now.”
“Almost everything,” he said, squeezing my hand. I brought his hand to my mouth and kissed his tattooed knuckles.
“Same.”
We sat in silence for a few moments, then he asked, “Is it too forward to say that I don’t want you to go home yet?”
I shook my head and took a deep breath. “I’m not doing a—nal after that dinner, but I’d love to have some fun with the o—ther stuff, if that’s okay?” I asked, suddenly very nervous about his answer.
“I’d love that,” he replied, his eyes bright as he kissed the back of my hand.