Chapter 27 #2
My orgasm hit me like a freight train, pleasure exploding through every nerve ending.
I distantly heard myself let out a wrecked moan as I spilled down his throat in pulse after pulse, my hips bucking wildly.
He swallowed it all, working me through it, prolonging the ecstasy until I was shaking and spent.
Slowly, gently, he let my softening cock slip from his mouth. He pressed tender kisses to my hips, my stomach, crawling back up as I caught my breath.
“Come here,” I said, pulling him up for a kiss. I could taste myself on his tongue, and it made heat pool in my belly all over again. “My turn.”
“You don’t have to—”
“Shut up. I’ve been dreaming about sucking your cock for months, and I’ve had plenty of time to do some research.”
He groaned at my words, and I used his distraction to flip our positions.
Now I was the one kissing my way down his body, learning all the places that made him gasp and squirm.
The spot where his neck met his shoulder.
The sensitive skin inside his hip bone. The V of muscle that led down to where he was hard and leaking for me.
“Beautiful,” I said, wrapping my hand around him. “Missed this. Missed you.”
“Adan, please—”
I didn’t make him wait. I’d gotten good at this in my imagination, practicing in my mind during all those lonely nights. Now I got to test my fantasies against reality. I took him in slowly, savoring the weight on my tongue, the stretch of my lips around him.
Yes, it was a little weird, not gonna lie. This would take some getting used to. But not bad weird. Just different.
I swirled my tongue around the head, tasting the salty-sweetness of his pre-cum.
Okay, that wasn’t a bad taste. He let out a guttural moan, his fingers digging into my shoulders.
Emboldened, I took him deeper. His cock was silky smooth against my tongue, the taste of him musky and masculine.
I took him in a little deeper before pulling off to lap at his length again.
Deep-throating was still a few bridges too far, but I did what I could.
“Fuck, Adan, your mouth,” he panted, echoing my earlier words. Pride swelled in my chest. I was the one making him feel this good, reducing him to incoherence.
I started a steady rhythm, bobbing my head up and down his shaft.
It was sloppy and I gagged a few times, but his moans told me I was doing something right.
I was stroking what I couldn’t fit, twisting my wrist on the upstroke just how I liked it myself.
His cock was hot against my tongue, the taste of him flooding my senses.
I’d never felt so connected to another person, so consumed by the need to bring them pleasure.
What I lacked in experience, I made up for in enthusiasm.
I loved the feeling of him heavy on my tongue, the way he filled my mouth so completely.
I experimented with pressure and speed, noting what made his breath hitch and thighs tense.
When I relaxed my throat and took him as deep as I could, nose pressing into wiry curls, he let out a guttural moan that sent shivers down my spine.
“Adan, fuck,” he panted above me. “Your mouth, herregud…”
Pride surged through me at reducing him to cursing and Swedish mumbles. I doubled my efforts, taking him as deep as I could. The head of his cock hit the back of my throat and I swallowed around him. He let out a choked-off cry, his grip tightening in my hair.
I hummed in response and he cursed, hips twitching like he wanted to thrust but was holding back. Seeing him come undone, knowing I was the cause, was intoxicating. I never wanted to stop.
I pulled out every trick I could remember from my research, working his cock with my tongue and lips and hand. Licking broad stripes up the underside, tracing the ridge around the head, pressing open-mouthed kisses all over his shaft. Savoring the taste of him, musky and salty and perfect.
I fondled his balls gently, rolling them in my palm as I sucked. He let out a strangled groan, thighs tensing under my hands. Encouraged, I redoubled my efforts. I bobbed faster, taking him as deep as I could on each downstroke. Saliva dripped down my chin, the wet sounds obscene in the quiet room.
“Adan, fuck, s? bra,” he babbled, slipping into Swedish. “Don’t stop, please don’t stop.”
I had no intention of stopping. The weight of him on my tongue, the taste of his arousal, the sounds spilling from his lips—I was drunk on it. I never wanted this moment to end. I wanted to stay here forever, worshipping his body with my mouth.
I pulled off for a moment, looking up at him through my lashes.
His pupils were blown wide, his cheeks flushed.
I kept my eyes locked on his as I licked a slow stripe from base to tip, swirling my tongue around the sensitive head.
He groaned, low and deep, the sound shooting straight to my own cock, which hardened again, ready for round two.
“Adan, I’m going to…” he warned, his voice strained.
I moaned in encouragement and took him as deep as I could, fighting my gag reflex.
That pushed him over the edge. With a hoarse cry, he spilled into my mouth, his cock pulsing against my tongue.
I swallowed around him, determined to at least try it.
He tasted musky and slightly bitter, and after a first taste, I let the rest seep out of my mouth and down my chin.
I gentled my movements, licking and stroking him through the aftershocks until he became too sensitive.
Carefully, I let his softening cock slip from my mouth.
I quickly wiped my mouth and chin on the bed sheets, then pressed tender kisses to his hips, his stomach, nuzzling into the trail of hair below his navel.
I crawled back up his body, both of us breathing hard. He pulled me into a kiss that was slower now, deeper, full of everything we hadn’t been able to say for all these months.
“I love you,” I said against his mouth. “I’ve loved you for months. Maybe since that first time you corrected my shot and I wanted to punch you for being right.”
He laughed, the sound vibrating through both our chests. “I love you too. Have loved you since you showed up at my door demanding answers. Maybe before.”
We lay there tangled together, hands roaming lazily now that the desperate edge was off. I traced the lines of his abs, the curve of his hip, the strong muscles of his thighs. He mapped my body the same way, like he was relearning something precious.
“No more hiding?” I asked.
“No more hiding,” he confirmed. “My contract ends in June. Two more months, but—”
“Two months is nothing compared to seven. And no more pretending we’re just friends. No more sitting apart on buses. No more professional distance.”
“None,” he agreed, pulling me closer. “Though you won’t be on buses anymore. You’ll be in Detroit.”
“We’ll figure it out. Weekend visits. Whatever it takes.”
“Whatever it takes,” he echoed.
I kissed him again, slow and deep. We had time now. All the time in the world to kiss, to touch, to love each other without fear of getting caught or ruining careers.
I was exactly where I belonged.