Chapter 21 #3
Damned if the fucker didn’t let out a small chuckle.
“This is the last one,” he said calmly as he typed away at his response.
With all the willpower of a superhero, I released myself and slowed down the thrusting in my ass.
The toy was still making me crazy, and I wanted to pull it out in frustration, but I wanted more for Randall to see his gift in use.
I splayed my hands and legs and waited, slowing down but still rocking. I simply couldn’t stop.
I didn’t have to wait long before Randall tapped at a few last keys with an exaggerated flourish, spelling out, “T H E E N D,” though I assumed that was not what he was sending to a colleague via email.
As he said the final letter, he stood quickly, the office chair rolling away from him until it hit the bench at the foot of the bed.
He turned around, but our view of each other was partially blocked by the damn chair.
With a grunt, Randall shoved it aside. He leaned forward as if to climb on the bed but straightened up instead, taking me in.
I did the same, watching his shining eyes as they bore into me, his gaze hot and heavy lidded. He was looking at the toy as I took in his body, from his head to his flushed chest, stopping to salivate over his angry red dick, leaking and rock hard and so, so ready.
I was ready too. Without taking my eyes from him, I patted the bed, tossing the lube in his direction. “Do not be gentle. I need this thing out of me. I need you to take it out of me, and I need you to fuck me, like, right now.”
His look was so adorably serious that it sent a surge through me that had my pulsating dick spouting.
We both watched as pre-cum dribbled down my cock.
I could barely wait as he reached for the lube, so I scrambled to turn over and onto my hands and knees, but Randall’s hand slapped down on my ankle to hold me in place.
His loud, “No!” softened as he explained, “Like this. I need to see you.” Part of me really wanted to flip over and shake my ass while making a joke about how he was seeing the best part of me, but my God, the look in his eye, stopped me in my tracks, that hand on my ankle, possessive and warm and scorching hot all at the same time.
I spread my legs wider, feet flat on the bed as he put on a condom and lubed up, never taking his eyes from mine.
My cock was leaking, and my every instinct screamed at me to move my hips and rock that toy, but I held his gaze and kept my body still, the anticipation ramping up my excitement and frustrating me all at one pulsing, vibrating time.
He climbed on the bed between my legs, our eyes still locked, then with one hand on his cock, he reached for the toy with the other. He paused, and I nodded. “Now, babe.”
He pulled it out and moved forward, a delicious smile on his face. “Right fucking now,” he said as he shoved into me with one powerful thrust, just like I had asked, just like I wanted.
“Not going to last,” he huffed as he grabbed my thigh and lifted my leg onto his hip.
“Come for me, babe.”
“I’ve never been driven so crazy. Not in my whole life. Sitting there …”
He lost the power of speech as he pounded into me, over and over. But I knew exactly what he meant.
“Sitting here, babe. Watching you work. Picturing you leaking. Not touching yourself. So fucking hot.” He found my spot then, but I wasn’t done talking.
As he set my body on fire over and over again, I shouted, “So fucking hot,” once more, the word “hot” transforming into a grunt that felt like it would never end, like I wanted the feeling to never end while at the same time I chased the final goal.
“Together,” I shouted, clenching down on him. My grunts continued, interspersed with the words “harder” and “faster.” When he nodded, I grabbed my dick, pumping and squeezing. His grip on my leg tightened, and the eyes that had been holding mine with such hunger and such care, closed.
“Yes, babe,” I whispered.
“Now, sweetheart!” he exclaimed, his eyes flashing open long enough to see my first spurt of cum shoot out toward his stomach. His eyes closed again as his neck arched back, his movements becoming erratic until he stilled altogether, grunting as he filled the condom.
“Beautiful,” I said, my hand relaxing on my stomach, the other behind my head. He was flushed, his gaze so humble when he opened his eyes that I could just picture the back of his neck brightening to an even deeper red.
There was a slight no to the shake of his head. “What am I going to do with you?” he questioned.
“Come here,” I pleaded, opening my arms. He pulled out slowly, standing to tie off the condom and toss it in the small garbage can tucked under the deck. “I’ll take care of that later,” he muttered as he turned back around to find me still with open arms.
His sigh and shake of the head seemed to echo his question as he climbed back up between my legs and dropped down on top of me.
I enclosed him in my arms, enjoying the warmth of his body next to mine, finding peace in the up and down of our breathing and the thud of our hearts, beating chest to chest.
We may have both started to doze, and something may or may not have triggered me awake. I don’t think we’d been resting long when I muttered, “Don’t fall asleep on me, babe. We’ve got to get ready for dinner.”
Randall held me tighter as he stretched his body out on top of me. Our bodies were intertwined, and heat surged through me as Randall came alive above me. I shifted, seeking his lips, hoping for round two, when we heard the garage door open.
“Fuck,” we said in unison, and I would think later about how cute it was that we’d said the same thing at the same time. In the moment, all there was, was a nervous energy. We jumped up and stood still for a beat, still naked, flushed and cum stained.
“Clothes,” we said again at the same time; seriously, it was like we were made for each other, bending simultaneously and scooping material up off the floor, throwing clothing items at each other.
I was pulling on a pair of underwear, his as it turned out, as he hopped into his jeans, opting to go commando.
I rushed into my jeans and T-shirt, scooping up the hoodie I had been wearing as well as my underpants, and shoving them under the bed.
“Dildo,” Randall croaked out.
“Fuck.” I nervously shook out the sheets until I found it and shoved it under the bed as well.
I rose to find him dressed and holding two socks out to me.
They were mismatched and the only two to be found.
“Fuck it,” I said, taking them from him and shoving them under the bed.
I smoothed Randall’s hair down, and he raked his fingers through mine, fluffing it up and not attempting to tame it.
I shrugged, sure that my parents wouldn’t think anything of seeing me with messy hair.
I started to tell Randall that I was going to go downstairs and help my mother with groceries if he wanted to sneak into the shower, but before I could get out more than, “I’m gonna, …” I could hear my dad yelling up the stairs.
“Randy? Aus? You up there?”
While we didn’t say exactly the same thing, we did look at each other and say something about how we thought Dad was working at the restaurant.
“Yeah, Dad,” I croaked out, and Randall’s eyes went wide.
“You’re in my room,” he whispered.
“Shit. Let’s get down there before he comes up here. It probably smells of sex in here.”
“Shit, Austin. We probably smell of sex. I’m so sorry about this,” he whispered.
I wanted to tell him he had nothing to be sorry about.
I wanted to tell him how hot it was to think of him smelling like sex—sex with me.
I wanted to whisper things about the cum drying on both of our stomachs, the tingle in my ass, and the way it had felt just to hold him and be held by him mere minutes ago. Instead, I opened the guest room door.
“Coming down, Dad. Does Mom need help with the groceries? I thought you were at the restaurant.”
Dad was standing at the bottom of the stairs, one foot on the first step. I stopped a few steps above him, Randall behind me. Dad looked from him to me.
“Not too busy at the Three B’s. Preston has it covered. Mom stopped by to raid the kitchen, so I thought I’d hitch a ride and wash up for dinner.”
From behind me, Randall cleared his throat. “You know, I was thinking I’d do the same thing. If you boys don’t need me, I’m going to have a shower.” I could hear him turn around and head back up the stairs.
“Right behind you, Randy,” my dad said. “You’ll help your mom with the groceries?”
“Of course,” I said, trying not to freak out as Dad brushed past me on the stairs.
“Look at that, Randy,” Dad said. “I’d almost forgotten about that mark you used to get on your neck when you were angry or overheated. Reminds me of our old jogging days. You weren’t jogging in those jeans, were you?”
My heart felt like it was about to beat out of my chest, and I could only imagine that Randall’s was too.
His hand came up behind his neck as if he could hide the evidence as he turned to look down the stairs at Dad and me.
“Nope! Just a little frustration with work.” He looked at me while he said it, and man, how I hated for him to have to lie.