Chapter 7 Deacon
DEACON
Isaac’s terrace is the sexiest place I’ve ever been. It’s as large as half his penthouse and situated on the corner of his building. Round white lights are strung up like a canopy, and a fire blazes in a glass pit at the center of a circle of outdoor seating.
On one of the deep sofas, I’m lying on my side with Isaac. His lips are attached to mine and my hand is down the back of his sweats. My middle finger toys restlessly with his prostate as he grinds our cocks together.
Not bad for a Tuesday night.
Admittedly, I wasn’t sure this was going to happen, but I scheduled that dinner with Evan in case it did, being optimistic for once.
After this past weekend, things with Isaac could have gone either way.
I ended up falling asleep here Friday night—we both did—after three rounds of mind-rearranging sex.
He was up before I was, so I couldn’t sneak out.
Anyway, he ended up going down on me again before asking me out to breakfast.
I went with him, and it was…nice. We didn’t talk much, but what we did say was easy—all things considered. It felt like he hung on every word I gave him. The conversation wasn’t overly personal. Mostly fact-based and biographical with the occasional overt flirtation.
I considered parting ways with him outside the restaurant, but when he kissed me in the middle of the sidewalk, I got very horny, very fast, and he must have too because I got invited back here again.
Back inside him. The day two sex was even better than Friday night.
Fucking phenomenal. Addicting. It led us well into the night.
Sunday morning, when I was about to leave, he asked if we could see each other again.
We’d ended up spending all day together. Mostly doing this.
Since I finally left late Sunday night, I’ve had to work hard not to get my hopes up, and yet, here I am, desperate to fuck him again and again and again.
The kissing is extremely distracting, though.
It’s making me stupid. I don’t think I’ve ever been with anyone so obsessed with kissing, and because of that, I never realized how goddamn hot it is.
A few sloppy kisses before a blow job or quick fuck is about my sum total of experience with it.
I associate kissing with feelings, and feelings are complicated. Sex is not.
The way Isaac molds himself to my body—to my mouth in particular—feels immaculate, like I’m tapping into a part of my sexuality I’ve never explored. It’s all clean and new and so fucking sexy, I’m in constant danger of coming before I get my pants down.
“Oh, God,” he breathes, his mouth moving to my cheek, and his hand gripping the back of my head. “That’s gonna make me come.”
At least I’m not the only one. “Do you want to?”
“Not yet…ungh,” he groans. “Maybe.”
“You’re the CEO,” I remind him, keeping my finger still while he kisses my face and works through his decision making process.
His hole clenches, and his cock grinds against mine again. “Too late,” he whispers. “Fuck…”
His body jolts against mine, and he lets out a ragged breath. I feel the spasm of his dick between us and a sharp tug on the roots of my hair.
With my own hard on still raging, he softens all over, melting against me like wax. “I’ve never had anything like this,” Isaac tells me eventually, like he’s sharing a secret.
“Like what?”
“You’re always holding me.”
“You feel good,” I say.
“You feel incredible. See? I don’t usually say shit like that, either.”
“Do you like it, or do you hate it?”
“It’s confusing, but I do wonder how you feel about it.”
I don’t want to let go. It’s a rare feeling for me, too.
In very few areas of my life have I ever felt important or contained or even stable.
Isaac treats me like I’m not only stable, but like I’m stabilizing him, too.
It’s part of the addictive nature of this attraction that came out of nowhere and flipped me all around.
I like the sound of his satisfied sighs, the unguarded groans, and the unashamed way he digs his fingertips in like he’s not afraid to need something from me. To take something.
“I’m into it,” I tell him.
“Why?” he asks. “If it’s not what you usually want.”
“Who the fuck knows what they really want. You didn’t either.”
“I thought I did,” he says.
“So, maybe we were both wrong.”
“Does this mean I’ll get to see you again after tonight?”
“If I’m not mistaken, my team and I have a meeting with you at two on Thursday.”
He laughs. “Evan told me you guys were being weird about setting a date and time.”
“We come and go a lot,” I say.
“Oh, is that it?”
“I was trying to figure out what your angle is.”
He sighs and rests his head on my upper arm as his fingers thread through mine. “I should have known who you were at the bar. It irritated me that I didn’t. I need to be paying better attention. I’ve just had my head up my ass at work lately. I need to focus.”
“Is this helping you focus?”
“Believe it or not, yes. But you didn’t answer my question.”
“I’m available whenever,” I tell him.
“You shouldn’t say that to me. I can be demanding.”
I smile. “I hadn’t noticed.”
Isaac’s soft laugh hits my ear before he lifts his head to start kissing me again.
I welcome his tongue back into my mouth as my cock throbs inside my pants.
Getting him naked is becoming a pressing matter.
I grab his ass and rub my hard cock against his damp pants and softening dick, trying to communicate this.
His hand slides up the front of my shirt, and he plunges deeper into the kiss.
I groan. My balls are so full, they’re starting to ache.
Grabbing his hand, I take it off my chest and move it down to cover my crotch.
“Get me off,” I tell him. I don’t think I’ve ever demanded that out loud before, but the way his kiss goes from sensual to eager makes me think he likes being told what to do sometimes, too.
I help him open my pants. He draws my dick out and jerks it a few times in his dry fist. My head drops back as sharp relief courses through me just from his touch.
He’s watching his hand move over my length, his grip tightening and loosening in a perfect rhythm.
Soon, however, he’s lowered himself to lie between my thighs, and I’m spreading for him.
He feeds himself my cock, taking it deep in one pass, his hand moving to massage my tight balls.
His dark eyes meet mine while I watch him, and it’s so hot.
I need to come so badly, I don’t bother fighting the build.
His tongue works me over thoroughly as he attempts to swallow as much of me as he can.
When his tongue licks out to swipe across my base, I have to close my eyes to hide the fact that they’re rolling back in my head. “God damn.”
His hands smooth over my hips, and he lets out a low growl. The sound and the feel of it on my cock sets me off. “I’m coming,” I warn about half a second before I’m shooting down his throat. He backs off to drink my cum—every spurt, gush and drop.
I squirm and grab for his hands, holding them in a tight grip as I unload all this built up tension—sexual and somehow also otherwise. He drains me, leaving me boneless and breathless.
Afterward, he rests his head on my thigh, turning his hands over in mine and gripping them back.
I don’t know what to say, much less think about any of this.
He’s the company CEO, but we’re both single.
The sex is next level, and I like him, but I’m not sure how the next part is supposed to go.
I’m not even sure it’s worth discussing yet other than to say yeah—let’s do this again.
“This feels good,” he says.
“I hope so,” I mumble.
“I mean this part. You have a nice presence.”
“Do I?” No one’s ever said that about me. Normally, I set people on edge. No one’s exactly chomping at the bit to talk to me, and I assume it’s because I don’t make it easy. I have issues with eye contact and personal space.
“I think so,” he says.
What does that mean, though? I sigh but try to keep it quiet. It’s beginning to get cold enough that the fire pit isn’t quite cutting it—especially with my still slightly wet dick hanging out in the breeze.
“Can we go in?” I ask.
“Of course.” He gives my hands a squeeze before letting go and pushing himself up to sit. “I need out of these pants.”
I close my eyes and shake my head. “You can’t say shit like that.”
He grins at me. “And maybe a shower?”
“Fuck.”
“I haven’t shown you my shower yet, have I?”
“I’ve seen it,” I say.
“You don’t want the tour?”
Tucking my cock back into my underwear, I sit up, too. My hair is all out of place. I push it off my forehead with both hands and give him a look. “Yeah, I’ll take your tour.”
Hours later, we both reach the point where we can’t possibly go again.
Like me, Isaac is nearly insatiable. All his words and moves are designed to seduce, and his body is made to make me erupt.
He’s rock solid—in perfect shape, and he’s got this tight ass that serves as a perfect springboard for my hips to bounce against.
He’s hyper-responsive, and that’s something else I can’t say I’m used to.
The majority of the hook-ups I’ve been part of have been with people as fucked up as I’ve been at the time.
Sober sex has me on a hair-trigger, and the multiple, often hands-free orgasms he manages to have while I’m pounding his ass are such a fucking turn-on.
He’s as hooked as I am—or at least it feels that way.
“Spend the night,” he tells me while I’m wiping lube off his ass with a towel.
Isaac is naked, lying on his stomach in his very comfortable bed. It’s after midnight, and the urge to leave is equally as strong as the urge to do exactly as he says.
“I have this whole morning routine,” I tell him.
“What’s that look like?”
“Wake up at five. Work out. Shower, get dressed, make my lunch, get to the BART station on time.”
“Every day?”
“Every day,” I say.