Chapter Fourteen
Lucas
I can’t believe I’m kissing Hunter, that it’s his tongue in my mouth, my tongue playing in his.
His hands run up and down my body, grabbing and squeezing my ass, traveling up my back, squeezing my nape, then heading south again.
It’s like he can’t get enough of me. I don’t really think that’s true.
I think he’s horny, craving pleasure, and I’m a willing body.
I tell myself it’s not me specifically he wants, just someone, just release, and I’m foolish enough to let that be me, despite all the reasons I shouldn’t.
“I wish I knew how to enjoy life the way you do.”
It about killed me earlier when he said that, just like it had when he said he sees me. It had taken everything inside me not to kiss him then, not to offer him my body, to take anything and everything Hunter would give me.
But I hadn’t. I’d been good, and now we’re still here, after Hunter touched me, after he slid his hand toward me, brushing his fingers against mine like he wanted all the same things I do. How could I say no?
I suck his neck, hear his sharp intake of breath, then kiss him again, wanting to linger in every single one of his sounds. I want him inside me or me inside him. I don’t care as long as I get to have him, even if only this once.
My mouth moves down his throat, my body sliding down. I lash my tongue over his nipples, left, then right, before continuing my journey down his body, until I’m kneeling on the floor between his legs.
“Hunter,” I say, kissing his stomach, sneaking my tongue into his belly button, rubbing my cheek against his happy trail.
“Yes,” he answers.
My fingers shake as I hook them in the band of his track pants, tugging them down his thighs.
Hunter lifts his ass, helping me work those and his boxer briefs down.
His dick springs out, and I swear it’s the most beautiful cock I’ve ever seen—long and thick, his skin flushed, bulging with veins I want to map out with my tongue.
Precum leaks from the tip, a glinty spark I crave, so I lash my tongue against it, taking in the burst of salt on my tongue.
“Fuuuuck.” Hunter cards his fingers through my hair, then holds on. “Do it again.”
I look up at him and smirk, unable to keep the playfulness out of the moment. “Mmm. But what if I don’t want to?” Spoiler alert: I really fucking want to.
I look at his heavy balls, so full of cum that I’d do just about anything to have in my stomach. I rub my nose against his full sac, breathing in the scent of him there, heady and sexy.
“You want to make me suffer?” he says back playfully. “I can jerk off for you.” He goes to wrap his hand around his shaft, but I swat it away.
“No. That’s mine.” Tonight. Or hell, maybe not even all of tonight. Maybe just for this moment.
“I thought you didn’t want it.” He smiles shyly.
“I do. So much.” My hand wraps around his thick, hot shaft, the heat of him radiating through my palm. Eyes still firmly on Hunter’s, I swipe my tongue over the tip of his cock, then down his shaft and back up again, tasting him, savoring him, imprinting everything about him into my memory.
He doesn’t speak, just watches me with that intense gaze of his that’s nearly unreadable right now.
The desire is there. I can see it, feel it in the way he presses his hips forward, silently asking for more, and in the feel of his hand in my hair.
I hear it in the sounds he makes too, but outside of that, he’s shut down the view inside him, not that he was ever easy to read anyway.
I keep eye contact as I open my mouth, sliding it down his dick.
Hunter hisses, flexing his hips upward as I bob in his lap.
I can’t believe I’m blowing him, can’t believe I know the taste of his skin, the scent of him, how heavy his cock feels on my tongue, how his hand feels in my hair.
I want this to be the best head he’s ever gotten, want him to go through the rest of his life remembering what it felt like to be pleasured by me.
Hunter slides further down the couch, his ass hanging off slightly. I let my mouth move to his balls, licking and sucking his cum-filled nuts and dying to know what his load tastes like.
When I swallow his cock again, Hunter curses, still watching. What is he thinking about? What does he see when he’s looking at me on my knees for him, lips stretched around the cock I’ve been curious about since I first started to realize what the fluttering in my gut was when he was around?
I wrap my hand around his shaft, working in tandem with my mouth, taking in as much of him as I can, even when I gag on him because gagging on cock is one of my favorite things.
“Fuck…Lucas…” he says breathlessly.
I pull off, wishing I could turn him over and eat him out. I want to taste every part of Hunter, take advantage in every way I can, in case this is the only time I get him.
“This is so fucking pretty,” I say, watching my hand slide up and down his spit-slicked erection. “Of course everything about you would be perfect.”
He gives me a husky chuckle, petting my head, playing with my hair as if I’m more to him than a warm mouth and an orgasm. “I’m far from perfect.”
Before I say something I’ll regret, I swallow him again, work him fast, suck him hard, pull every single hungry sound out of him that I can.
My dick is throbbing, feels like it could burst out of my pants at any second.
I could probably come like this, could probably rub my dick against him for two seconds while sucking him off and come my brains out.
“Almost there,” he says when I flick my tongue along his frenulum.
“Give it to me. I want it. Want you to fill my mouth with what’s in these.” I cup his balls before lowering my mouth around him again, sucking him like his dick feeds me oxygen or like I need his cum to survive.
Hunter’s hand tightens in my hair, legs shaking, letting out a deep, throaty groan as his dick jerks in my mouth, spurting the first taste of his salty load.
I savor the feel of it on my tongue, swallow just in time to get another mouthful, taking each and every drop until Hunter is wrung dry and his hand relaxes in my hair.
It only lasts for a second, and I’m sure he’ll shove me out of the way, pull up his pants, and go, but he doesn’t.
Before I can compute what’s happening, Hunter is sliding off the couch and pushing me to my back.
He unbuttons my jeans, and I lift my hips for him, watching as the object of my fantasies for as long as I can remember strips me, throwing my pants and underwear aside.
I’m hard as granite, wet and leaking, balls so full I swear it’s not healthy.
“Fuck,” Hunter says, awe in his voice, running his hand down my torso. I bow my back, arching toward him, then fall back to the ground when he wraps his hand around my aching cock. “I can’t… Lucas…what are we…”
“Don’t.” If we start down that path, we’ll stop, and it might kill me if he stops.
He nods, then takes me into his mouth, sucking me to the back of his throat, not even taking the time to warm me up.
Hunter sucks dick like he does everything—with focus, passion, and the obvious need to be the best at it.
I can’t take my eyes off him, can’t believe it’s him bobbing in my lap, his mouth around me, his hands sliding up and down my thighs like he needs to be touching me.
“Hunt,” I say, needing his name on my lips, touching him too, running my fingers through his hair, sliding them down his strong shoulders, wishing he would stay long enough for me to count each and every freckle there.
If I lost track, I’d have to start again, so every time I’m about to finish, I would find a way to start over.
He plays with my balls, gives my glans lots of attention, pulling me closer and closer to that edge I crave but don’t want to tip over because once I do, it’s over.
But he’s too good, this moment too fucking good.
Pleasure washes over me, takes me away, ends this moment with him as I thrust upward, toes curled in my socks, my body giving in to the satisfaction I’ve found in his mouth.
Hunter takes each spurt the way I did his, swallowing them.
Is he memorizing my taste the way I did his?
Is he having second thoughts? Not care at all?
All those thoughts run through my head as he sucks my softening shaft, then lies between my legs, head on my stomach, not looking at me.
I feel it the second I touch him, as I brush my finger over his temple. The regret. The sadness. The self-hatred of being here with me. He doesn’t give in to it right away, just lies there with me on the floor, still facing away from me…one minute, two, three…or, hell, maybe only seconds.
“I gotta go.” He pushes away from me, stands up, and pulls his clothes back on.
“Hunt…”
“Don’t. I…fuck, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.
We shouldn’t have done that.” He shoves his feet into his shoes as I lie naked on the floor between my couch and coffee table, watching him.
“I can’t do this with you, Lucas. Not you,” is the last thing he says before walking away, the door closing softly behind him.
“I can’t do this with you, Lucas. Not you.”
Not you, not you, not you.
My apartment has never felt so quiet.