Chapter 20 #2
I hate how I’ve misread all of this and how easy it is to compare our lives and see where I come up lacking.
I have to get out of my head, or I’ll end up in another panic attack.
I swallow down the discomfort and try not to look around at his lavish home, which puts our differences into stark relief.
I need to focus on the man in front of me who made me feel safe.
“Your shoulder feeling okay?” I ask as he cuts into the chicken with his fork instead of using his other hand and a knife.
“Better than it was earlier. Just a bit stiff and some expected dull pain. I’m trying not to use it. Here, try this,” he says, holding his fork out with the first bite of chicken, rice, and sauce for me.
He wants to feed me? Jesus, this man is something else. I lean into him, resting my hand on his muscular thigh, and take the food. The flavor explodes across my tongue, savory, a little spicy, and creamy all at the same time. I can’t stop the moan as I chew and swallow. “Fuck, your chef is good.”
Sebastian shrugs. “I’ve had this a few times, and it’s alright. Nothing tastes as good as what you’ve made for me at your place. I love watching you cook or at the grill. Eating outside on the deck as dusk falls after watching you so competently work that thing has become my favorite way to eat.”
He takes a few bites of his meal while I try to fathom how my simple food could compare to what he’s eating now.
The way he manages to slay my fears one by one with his sincere comments melts me.
It’s like he can feel my insecurities rising and has the perfect response every time to bring me back down to a comfortable base level.
I don't know how he does it, but I’m in awe and so grateful for the ability.
It doesn't take him long to finish his food, and before he can move, I’ve already grabbed his dishes and moved to the sink to rinse and load the dishwasher.
“Are you going to let me fuck you tonight, baby?”
My head snaps up, and I look across the island at him.
My whole body flushes as my temperature rises ten degrees with his direct question and the need it stirs to say yes and beg him to take me right now.
He could bend me over this island, using the olive oil in the bottle on the counter as lube for all I care. I’ve had worse.
I dry my hands on a towel and fight the tremor in my voice when I answer. “Don't you want to take it slower and, I don't know, maybe try a few things first before you go straight to fucking me?”
“Can’t I do both? I can explore your body, see what we feel like together, and finally sink inside you like we both want.”
He stands and moves toward me, grabbing my hand and tugging me deeper into the house.
I follow, just an obedient puppy to his commanding presence.
We enter the primary suite, which is an airy space decorated in neutrals with a big bed dominating the wall that faces the floor-to-ceiling windows.
A set of glass doors leads out to a terrace with steps down to an illuminated pool.
Well fuck me, he’s rich-rich. I knew he was a professional athlete, but it’s taken being in his house to realize what that really means.
He’s been so chill and down to earth around me that it’s easy to forget he makes millions every year playing a sport, while I’m picking up dog shit for pennies and my business relies on the kindness of strangers who believe in our cause.
We are not the same.
He leads me to the bed and pushes on my chest until I’m sitting on the edge and looking up at his beautiful face as he speaks.
“You tell me what you want. If you want slow, we’ll do that.
I’ll spend hours tasting every inch of your skin, learning each spot that has you writhing and makes your cock leak for me.
I can take my leisurely time, go all night, making you shake, moan, and call out my name as I suck and stroke you, only to stop before you lose it and back you down so you’re a needy little slut, begging me to come.
And when you do, I’ll keep your cock in my mouth, licking and sucking until you're hard again so I can do it all over until you pass out from pleasure.”
Holy fuck. He’s not supposed to be saying any of this. I should be the one making filthy promises of what I can do to him so he knows what we’re capable of together.
But apparently, he’s more than aware of what he wants.
Goddamn. I’m the experienced gay, yet he’s making me feel like a blushing, fumbling virgin despite every amorous tryst and clandestine encounter in the back of a truck, a club bathroom, or a dark bedroom with sweaty bodies, fumbling hands, and muffled moans.
My fingers grip the duvet as I roll them into fists, trying not to come in my pants just from the perfect visual he’s painted of everything I’ve wanted a man to say to me for years.
“Use your words, Country Boy. Tell me what you want.” Sebastian reaches forward and threads his fingers into my hair, stroking before gripping tightly and pulling my head back.
My lashes flutter, and I have to bite my lip to keep the groan of longing from spilling out. I get myself under control, licking my lips and looking up at him again. “I want to taste you. I want you coming for me, and I want to show you how I can bring you to your knees, Big Daddy.”
Sebastian closes his eyes as the most primal growl reverberates from his throat, his hand slides down my face and strokes across my cheek, his thumb running over my lips.
“These lips have haunted me. Now that I’ve kissed them, I can't wait to feel them everywhere else. Are you going to be a good boy and let me feed you my cock just like this?” he asks, pressing his thumb into my bottom lip and opening my mouth.
I blink and nod, not wanting to speak and risk moving his callused fingers from where he’s gripping my chin and pressing on my lips.
I love this side of him, the dominating, sure of himself, lust-driven badass who wants to lose himself in me.
It thrills me to see him like this and know he’s the perfect top for my willing bottom.
“Unbutton my shirt and open my pants,” he commands.
“Oh, Sebastian.” A shiver works through me as I breathe his name, already impossibly hard in my jeans just from the desire he stokes in me with his attention and command.
My hands release the bedding and move to his chest, fingers shaking with anticipation as I work the buttons on his shirt free until his chest and stomach are bared to me.
I drop my hands to his pants, unbuckling his belt and unfastening his slacks.
He looked so fucking good in his suit, but he’s getting even hotter with every sliver of skin I reveal.
Once I’ve worked his pants open and pushed them down his thighs, I can’t stop myself from pressing my nose to his boxer briefs and inhaling against him.
His cock throbs against my face with his instant reaction.
There’s a damp spot already on the jersey material that I lick over, finding his slit through the fabric and pressing into it for his taste.
I groan against him as my cock jerks with need.
“Fuck,” he grits out, hand in my hair as I suck on him through the fabric.
He’s freshly showered and clean, but there’s an undeniable manly musk from his arousal that gets me high with every greedy breath I take against him.
I could get off just from smelling him like this, my eager cock trapped in my pants, making a mess of my boxers already.
I like denying myself, though, if I can make him feel good first.
I slide my fingers into the waistband of his black briefs and pull them down to free his cock, immediately taking the thick length of him into my hand and slowly rotating my fist as I stroke him with a greedy smile.
Fuck, he’s so beautiful, and just getting to hold him like this, feel his skin, smell and touch him, is getting me so fucking high.
His hips flex into my hand, and he hisses, his head tipping back in pleasure.
He feels even better than he looked over FaceTime last week, all veined, tan skin pulled taut over thick muscle and a broad, blunt head I’m already dying to have working into me.
I lean forward and flatten my tongue along the underside of his cock, licking up the shaft and teasing around the crown with my lips until he’s panting.
Oh fucking hell, he tastes even more amazing than I imagined.
My dick is leaking precum like a faucet with how turned on I am just from getting to pleasure him, my thigh slick with the mess in my pants. Worth it.
When I finally take him into my mouth, we’re both worked up—me from desire, and him from anticipation—and he pushes in with a quick flex of his hips that has salty precum bursting on my taste buds, forcing a groan from my throat.
I close my lips around him to stop the needy noises and swirl my tongue, collecting every drop and sucking until he’s bucking against me.
Sitting on the edge of the bed like this helps get a decent angle to bob on him, taking him in short strokes, and breathing through my nose to avoid gagging when I want him even deeper.
Saliva pools in my mouth, running down his shaft onto my hand that’s pumping the thick length, lubricating the path I take with each stroke as my eyes roll up to catch him watching me with lust-filled eyes.
“Damn, you look good with my cock in your mouth, Country Boy,” he grits out, panting as I suck him harder, his hand on my head guiding me to take him deeper.
My cock is painfully hard, pressing against my jeans and begging for attention that I deny myself because I want to give it all to Sebastian right now.
My nostrils flare with every deep inhale, taking in more of his scent that mixes with the taste of him.
I want to show him how badly I need him, how much I want this to work between us despite our differences.
Imagining losing him before I’d even had him shook everything loose and made me desperate for this connection while I can get it.
If he breaks my heart like I know is possible, then I’ll do what I always do and pick myself back up.
But if for whatever crazy reason this works between us…
well, I’m going to fucking cash in on that good fortune.
I let him pop out of my mouth and move to my knees on the floor.
I slide my tongue down the side of his shaft to his sack, sucking his balls into my mouth one at a time as I continue to stroke him.
I’m relishing the feral groans and sounds coming from him as his hips snap with my caresses and his fingers bury into my hair.
Letting his balls go, I dip lower, running my tongue along his taint, seeking his puckered hole from a difficult vantage point, with him standing, trapped by his pants around his thighs.
I get the tiniest taste and know I’ll be rewarded when I really get the chance to explore.
“Oh, holy fuck,” he whimpers as I lick and suck at the seam along his balls, messily making my way back to his cock.
“Jesus, this is the best head I’ve ever had.
” His voice is full of awe and lust, and it makes me want to rock his world off its axis even more.
It also has me rocking my hips, looking for any friction I can get because his praise is sending me higher and making my cock harder with every word.
“Yeah, baby, that’s what happens when you let a man go down on you,” I pant out, voice low and needy.
I slide his cock back into my mouth, pushing past what little gag reflex I have and swallowing, letting my throat constrict around the blunt head until his legs shake and he swears.
I work him in and out as my hand pumps and circles his shaft, the other on his balls, tugging and rolling.
This isn't nice, clean head from a pretty little puck bunny who wants to impress him with her doe eyes and big tits as she takes his dick on her knees. It’s a sloppy, eager, riotously rough blow job from a man who knows what feels amazing, meant to take out his balance and send him crashing down this road of catching feelings with me.
His shaft grows impossibly hard, precum coating my tongue, letting me know he’s close, and I have a few seconds to make a choice.
I’ve never swallowed a man’s cum before.
As much as I enjoy giving head, I’ve always been with men who were used to getting their way and saw me as an experiment, a temporary hook-up, never someone they wanted to get to know and love, and definitely didn't see a future with.
I wouldn't let them have the small satisfaction of swallowing their cum, either spitting it out in front of them, or pulling off fast enough to let them come somewhere else, so I’d retain some semblance of control in such a vulnerable moment.
Because, as much as being the one to bring a man to orgasm and controlling how quickly he gets there or how hard he comes, puts you at a slight advantage, swallowing like a good boy feels like giving it right back.
“I’m so close, baby. Fuck, you feel so good. Goddamn, your mouth is heaven, just like I knew it would be,” Sebastian growls. His hand tightens in my hair, and I suck harder, my decision made.
He erupts, my name a choked invocation on his tongue as I greedily take every hot jet of cum on my own.
His forceful release and my willing swallow become our salvation.
We’re joined by more than words now. I moan with pleasure against him as I continue to suck and lap at his cock until he softens while I stay uncomfortably hard, and I know he must be sensitive.
Still, he doesn’t pull away until I release him with a wet pop.
He runs his thumb along my bottom lip, cleaning me up and pushing it into my mouth to suck off.
I swirl my tongue and collect every drop. I’m a fiend for him.
“So, you were starving after all, il mio lupacchiotto affamato.”
I laugh quietly at his lapse into another language as he strokes my cheek tenderly. I’ve learned that a man whose balls have been drained dry and is feeling affectionate will say any number of things.
“Is that Italian?” I guess.
He nods, but doesn't tell me what it means. “I fucking love this dimple.” He presses his thumb into my cheek as he grips my chin. “I’ve been dying to hold you like this, but now I want to see you naked, lying on this bed, so I can have my way with you. Strip for me, baby.”
I groan. Fuck me, I can't deny this man anything.