Chapter 9 #2
He nodded. “Most of the guys say the same thing. Then there’s Parker…”
“Are the two of you…”
My eyes met his. “Are we…”
“Together.”
“If I’m with a person, I don’t fuck around.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
“And I’m not going to.”
“Why?”
“Would you want me to answer that question if it were about you and not Parker?”
“No.” Sighing, my lip found its way between my teeth, sliding back and forth as I stared at my plate.
“Xander…”
A hum vibrated in my throat. A moment later, I startled. His thumb pulled my lip from the grip my teeth had on it.
“The hiding blows donkey dick. I won’t sugarcoat it, but you’ll find people to connect with.”
Unable to respond without losing my shit, I picked up my fork. “So, read any good books lately?”
Daniel groaned. “Don’t laugh.”
I did anyway. “This must be good.”
Conversation between us continued lightly, moving from the table to the kitchen, then to the couch when we finished eating. We had several favorites in common. We both liked documentaries, thrillers that didn’t strive to scare the fuck out of you, and political procedurals.
All that ended when the topic moved to sports. He was a die-hard Pats, Sox, and Bruins fan. Being from San Diego, I rooted for the Padres and the Chargers when I watched professional sports. I preferred being outdoors. I told him so when he asked which teams I followed.
“I’m from here, and when my buddies dragged me to games or had watch parties, we rooted for the home teams, but I prefer being in the action and not watching.”
“So did you play?”
“Team sports weren’t my thing. I enjoy being outdoors—swimming, running, biking, climbing, hiking. Camping and fishing were a great way to get away from the monotony of the house.”
“Monotony? Your home must’ve been night and day different from mine.”
I nodded, kicking myself for mentioning my childhood at all.
“I’m an only child,” I said, simply.
He cracked up. “Talk about a life I prayed for growing up. I’m in the middle of five boys ruled by a queen, also known as our older sister. The number of times I prayed…”
“It’s not all it’s cracked up to be.” The melancholy of my words was unmistakable when I interrupted him. My gaze diverted from his, where he sat facing me on the opposite end of the insanely long, deep-seated couch.
“I’m sure it’s not. As much as my siblings annoyed the fucking hell outta me, I couldn’t imagine life without the fuckers.”
“So, you’re close to all of them?”
“Very. I’m the black sheep. They all live within a few blocks of each other.”
“What do they do?” I asked, utterly fascinated by his family. I’d never met anyone who had five siblings. I mean, who the fuck had six kids?
“My dad was a welder. He worked the docks. My older two brothers followed him into the union. The younger two went to school. One is a high school math teacher, and the other is a journalist.”
“A journalist and a CIA agent? In the same family?”
He nodded, taking a deep breath. “He doesn’t know what I do.”
“How’s that work?”
“None of my brothers know what I do. Neither does my pops. They think I’m a professor at one of the universities.”
“So you told your sister and your mom?”
“Just my sister. My mom died of cancer when I was in middle school. Fiona, my sister, was the only one of us of age. She helped Pops raise us. She was the one who encouraged me, Sean, and Patrick to go to school. The older two hated school and refused to go.”
“My mom died when I was born.”
“So, it was just you and your pops, huh?”
I chuckled at the thought of what calling the senator pops would do to the man’s face. He wore his image like a full-body suit. Zippered up tight around him so no one would ever guess what hid inside. He reserved that for his only child.
Before he could ask anything else, I straddled his lap, buried my fingers in his jet black curls, and my tongue in his mouth.
He’d looked so unaffected and calm since stripping me of my clothes.
The hard length pressing up against me told a very different story than the one his calm demeanor had told.
He was not as unaffected by my presence as he let on. On the contrary, t, the moment I settled over him, his hands slipped into my briefs, exposing my ass and then my hole.
The longer we kissed, the more he toyed with me, pressing, rubbing, and circling my hole. Over and over until the banked fire of want turned to a raging inferno of lust that needed satisfaction. I needed satisfaction. Not that I’d ever tell him that. Need hurt people.
And I refused to be hurt.
Emotionally anyway. Getting split open by the cock I rode was another fucking story.
A breath before I’d had enough, a slick swirl of lubed fingers replaced the dry ones that disappeared the moment prior.
He sucked my tongue as he worked me open.
Unhurriedly, but without mercy. I whimpered at the burn and stretch.
He growled, long and low, pressing harder.
Deeper. He pushed inside me as far as possible, yet not far enough.
I had to have more. A whimper escaped. One moment, I was grinding back into his hand, and the next, I sailed through the air as Daniel flipped me onto my back.
“Show me your hole.”
Grabbing my knees, I pulled them to my chest.
“Fucking gorgeous,” he growled, into my groin as his nose ghosted over my flesh, sending gooseflesh on a race across my skin.
His tongue found my dick, lapping at my shaft before swallowing it whole while he toyed with my hole.
“God dammit. Open me up already.”
He slid two fingers into my ass. I gasped, loving the burn, while he chuckled. I wanted to punch the fucker, but he found the bundle of nerves and stayed there, brushing, rubbing, tapping.
My cock popped free of his mouth when he pulled off me, the sound a sucking pop. “You were saying…”
“Fuck you.”
More laughter along with more torturous edging.
“You’ll get your turn, pretty. I promise.”
His mouth went back to sucking my brains out of my head through my dick. One hand milked my prostate, the other my cock. Everything he did pushed me closer and closer to the edge.
My neck arched, pressing my dick into his throat and my head into the couch cushions.
His mouth, tongue, and fingers robbed me of thought, leaving me a trembling, greedy mess.
I hated that every time he got me under him, I devolved into a beggar who thrust and grinded between the assault on my cock and the one on my ass.
“Fuck! Me!” I yelled between gasps of air.
I hated it. I hated how he turned me into a blithering idiot who wasn’t just greedy but needy as well. I hated the word need, but I couldn’t fucking deny that I wanted to feel him, fucking needed him inside me, splitting me open.
“Daniel…please. I gotta come.”
“No one said you couldn’t come, pretty boy.”
“Thought you weren’t the Daddy type.”
“Only seems to make an appearance when I get a certain pretty boy under me begging to be fucked.”
“Daddies are supposed to give their…”
His dick pressed into me, splitting me open, and stealing the words from my mouth and head. The man pushed forward mercilessly until he bottomed out. His nuts rested against my ass, his cock jerked in my hole. I fucking loved it.
He fell over me, his nose sliding across mine. His lips hovered above my mouth. His breath ghosted over my face. “You were saying,” he whispered.
A hand buried itself in his curls, holding him still. My head turned, “I said, " Daddies are supposed to give their boys what they want and need. I need you to fuck me. Own my ass and make how stupid an idea it is to be here seem like the best idea anyone’s ever had in the history of ideas.”