22. Casey
twenty-two
Casey
T he flickering fire in Matt's wood stove painted everything in a golden wash, turning his tiny home into a cocoon of warmth against the chilly evening. I nestled deeper into his lap, adjusting the fleece throw that I’d thrown over us instead of getting dressed, and stabbed at another piece of sesame tofu with my chopsticks. His hand rested casually on my thigh, those work-roughened fingers tracing absent patterns that sent little electric pulses racing up my spine.
"I've never had the tofu version of this, it's not half bad."
"It's my favorite," he said, taking a deliberately large bite, eyes never leaving mine. A drop of sauce escaped, sliding down his stubbled chin.
Without thinking, I reached out, catching the droplet with my thumb. Our gazes locked as I brought my thumb to my mouth and licked it clean. His pupils dilated, and I felt a swell of pride at being able to fluster my usually composed boss.
"Careful," I murmured, setting my chopsticks on a nearby table as I cupped his face and kissed away the rest of the sauce.
His small home felt impossibly intimate, all warm wood and clever storage, everything in its proper place—except for our swimsuits, which still lay scattered across the floor where we'd frantically shed them earlier. The windows had steamed up, creating a barrier between us and the dark forest outside.
"So," Matt said, reaching around me for another container, "is this better or worse than camp food?"
I grinned, remembering the surprisingly decent cafeteria fare at Eagle Ridge. "Better. The camp food isn't terrible, though. I was expecting mystery meat and soggy vegetables."
"We pride ourselves on breaking camp stereotypes," Matt said, his breath warm against my neck.
"Even our camp director breaks stereotypes,” I said, kissing him on the nose. “A rugged lumberjack man like you who eats tofu?”
Matt laughed. “I keep telling you I’m not a lumberjack. More of a hippie, if anything. And that tracks with the tofu, right? Did you not know I was a vegetarian?”
“You don't look like a vegetarian. And don't look like the type of guy who can't resist a little queer spice in your life," I teased, deliberately wiggling my hips against him.
"Is that what you are? Spice?" The question held a genuine curiosity hidden by the playful tone.
I turned to face him more fully, the food momentarily forgotten. "What do you think I am?"
Matt studied me, his blue eyes intent in a way that made my skin prickle with awareness. "Trouble," he said, but his small smile took any sting from the word.
"But the good kind, right?"
“I’m pretty sure.” His gaze dropped to my lips. "Though the jury's still out."
I laughed, but something fluttered in my chest. We were playing a game here, both of us dancing around talking about what we really wanted. But the way his hands held me, somewhere between possessive and reverent, made it hard to imagine this was just casual.
Ready to change the subject, I gestured around the tiny home. "How did you end up here? I didn’t know a place could be so small and still have such craftsmanship." The tiny house was genuinely beautiful, with its lofted bedroom, space-saving furniture, and the huge windows that would show off the forest view in daylight.
"It’s always been something I’ve imagined. I spend a lot of time in nature, and I want to honor that. It's why I'm a vegetarian, why I live like I do. I want to have the smallest possible footprint. And this place is just the right size for me, with room to grow if I ever have a family. My friend Wade built it," Matt said, a note of pride in his voice.
“The Wade who built the music cabin?”
“Yep,” he said, smiling. “Though this was back when he and his partner had this big, upscale construction company, so he had a lot more resources. A full construction crew. Now he’s in a bit of a tough place.”
"How so?"
"His business partner fucked him over–—I don't even know all the details, but I do know the guy also fucked Wade's wife."
"Damn. Well, I'm sure he'll land on his feet. He's clearly talented." I chewed on my bottom lip for a moment. “Do you think here’s something going on with him and my brother? Oliver keeps mentioning him.”
Matt laughed. “Oliver and Wade? I don’t think I could think of anyone more different.”
“What about you and me?” I asked, biting my lip playfully.
Matt snorted. “We have a lot in common.”
“Oh yeah, like what?”
“We’re both passionate about education, about giving kids the confidence and knowledge that they need to shine.”
“You may have a point,” I conceded, smiling. “And?”
“We both enjoy kayaking.”
I burst out laughing. “That’s a stretch.”
“We both enjoy the way you sit in my lap. Like this… and like you did earlier.” He wrapped his arms around me, pulling me closer. “And we like kissing. And fucking.”
“Nearly everyone likes kissing and fucking.”
“Still, it’s a mutual interest.”
I stuck my tongue out at him, and he captured my lips in a rough kiss.
“And we both enjoy the way you play guitar. Sexy as hell,” he said gruffly.
I cupped him between the legs. “And we both like cock piercings. You like wearing them, I like sticking them in me.”
He groaned, covering my hand in his and adding some pressure. “That we do. Now you’re getting the idea.”
“What else.”
"We love pastel-colored hair,” he murmured, carding his fingers through mine. “Your hair is so soft. I've been wanting to touch it since your interview. And we fucking love this underwear." He snapped the elastic waistband of my tiniest briefs.
"These old things? I just grabbed them without thinking when I packed my overnight bag." That was a lie, and I was pretty sure he knew it. I wanted to spend the evening parading in front of him in only a scrap of fabric, watching how he watched me.
"And I hope we both like tofu?" Matt's smile was small but genuine. He picked up an abandoned container. "I should have asked that before ordering."
"It's delicious," I said, grinning. "Oliver is a vegetarian, too, so I'm used to eating veggies."
"Well, you should eat more. You'll need your strength."
The way he ran his hand down my spine as he said that made my body heat. I deliberately picked up a piece of tofu with my fingers and brought it slowly to my mouth, maintaining eye contact as I popped it into my mouth, then licked sauce from my fingertips. His eyes tracked the movement, and I felt his body respond beneath me.
"You know," I said conversationally, "I think I'm still hungry, but not for food."
We lunged for each other, abandoning the Chinese food containers on Matt's coffee table and standing, making our way toward the bathroom. His mouth tasted like soy sauce as lifted me out of his lap, still kissing me as he guided me to the back of his house.
The bathroom in Matt's tiny home was a marvel of efficient design, but the shower was so luxurious, it seemed like a waste of space in such a small home. Clearly, Matt loved his showers. It was glass-walled and big enough for two–—or more–—with sleek fixtures, two big shower heads, and warm stone tiles that matched the rest of his home. Matt reached in to turn on the faucet, testing the temperature with his forearm. The casual domesticity of the gesture sent an unexpected flutter through my chest.
"You're staring," Matt said, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"Just appreciating the view," I replied, my eyes trailing over his bare chest, those nipple piercings I couldn't get enough of, and down to the waistband of his jeans where a trail of hair disappeared tantalizingly beneath the denim. "You're only half-dressed. Seems unfair when I'm practically naked."
"Easy to fix," he said, thumbs hooking into his belt loops.
I leaned against the sink, unembarrassed by my near-nudity, and watched as he stripped off his jeans. His cock, still semi-hard from our dinner flirtation, sprang free, the silver ring of his Prince Albert catching the light. I hadn't known what to expect when I'd discovered his piercings, but the reality of Matt, who seemed so straightlaced, being decorated with metal in such intimate places had short-circuited my brain in the best possible way.
"Your turn," he said, nodding at my underwear.
I hooked my thumbs into the waistband of my briefs, but instead of pulling them down, I sauntered toward him, closing the small distance between us. "What if I want you to do it?"
His eyes darkened as he reached out, his calloused fingers brushing against my hipbones before slowly tugging the fabric down. I stepped out of them, fully naked now, my own cock hardening under his gaze.
"Shower's getting cold," he murmured, though the rising steam suggested otherwise.
We stepped into the shower together, the spray from the generously sized showerhead soaking my hair. Water cascaded over Matt's broad shoulders, highlighting the intricate owl tattoo on his back. Droplets clung to his eyelashes as he looked down at me, and for a moment, we just stood there, letting the water flow over us, a strangely intimate moment that was just as charged as our frantic fucking earlier.
I reached for the soap—a simple bar that smelled of cedar and something earthy—and worked it between my palms. "Turn around," I instructed, my voice husky.
Matt complied, presenting me with his back. I ran my soapy hands over his shoulders, tracing the lines of his tattoo, feeling the muscles shift beneath my touch. Water sluiced down the channel of his spine, and I followed its path, my fingers pressing into the dimples at the small of his back.
"Feels good," he said.
I worked my way down, kneeling as I reached the firm curve of his ass, my soapy hands sliding over each cheek with deliberate pressure. From this position, I could see his cock hanging heavy between his legs, the piercings glinting in the shower light, and I reached between his legs, running soapy fingers down his length. I leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the back of his thigh, trailing my lips up to the juicy curve of his ass. Once there, I couldn’t resist sinking my teeth in.
He moaned softly, a soft chuckle escaping him as he reached back and threaded his fingers through my hair, holding my mouth against him. "That wasn't what I was expecting."
"I'm full of surprises," I replied, turning him around to face me.
I remained on my knees, the warm water hitting my back as I looked up at Matt. I maintained eye contact as I moved forward, my hands sliding up his thighs until I cradled the space between them, my breath ghosting over his hardening cock.
"Is this okay?" I asked, wanting—needing—to hear him say it.
"Fuck yes," he breathed, his hand coming to rest at the nape of my neck, fingers tangling in my wet hair.
I took him in my hand first, testing the weight of him, feeling him pulse against my palm. The piercings added a fascinating texture, and I ran my thumb over the Prince Albert curiously, watching as Matt's abdominal muscles tensed in response, then trailed my fingers over the ladder of frenum piercings on the underside of his shaft.
"You like that?" I asked, though the answer was obvious.
"You have no idea," he groaned.
“I can’t imagine doing this to my cock, I'm too much of a scaredy cat with needles. But it’s sexy as hell on you.” I leaned forward, my tongue darting out. He was clean from my earlier soaping, but I could taste the salt of his pre-cum and the tang of metal, circling the head of his cock before taking it into my mouth. The piercing was warm against my tongue, and I savored the unique sensation as I took him deeper, rolling my tongue over each piece.
Matt's fingers tightened in my hair, not pulling, just holding, as if he needed something to anchor him. "Jesus, Casey, your mouth..."
I hummed in acknowledgment, the vibration making him twitch between my lips. Water ran down my face, but I didn't care. All I cared about was the taste of him, the weight of him on my tongue, the soft sounds of pleasure escaping his throat. I fucking loved the sounds he was making.
I worked him with practiced skill, one hand wrapped around the base of his shaft while the other cupped his balls gently. Each time I pulled back, my tongue teased at his piercings, drawing increasingly desperate sounds from above.
"Fuck, that's good," Matt groaned, his hips beginning to move subtly, seeking more.
I pulled off to catch my breath, my hand continuing to stroke him. "You can be rougher," I said, looking up through wet lashes. "I can take it." I wanted to take it, to pull him as deep as possible inside me, to take all of him, to make him part of me, if only for an instant.
Something flashed in his eyes—desire mixed with a hint of uncertainty. "You sure? I’m big."
“Choke me on your dick, Matty,” I said, then I took him back into my mouth, deeper this time, relaxing my throat to take as much of him as I could. His piercings rolled against my tongue, and I moaned around him, the sound muffled but unmistakable.
That was all the encouragement Matt needed. His hands framed my face, thumbs stroking my cheekbones briefly before he tightened his grip on my hair, guiding my movements with increasing confidence.
"Deeper?" he asked, voice strained as he thrust shallowly into my mouth.
I nodded as best I could, my hands moving to grip his thighs, encouraging him. The position should have made me feel vulnerable, but instead, I felt powerful. This strong, sexy man was coming undone because of me, his control fracturing with each swirl of my tongue.
Matt's thrusts became more deliberate, pushing deeper each time. He was cautious, watching my reaction carefully, but I could tell he wanted to claim my throat, and I wanted him there more than anything, wanted that feeling of giving myself completely to him, being entirely consumed by my worship of his cock. It hit the back of my throat, and I fought against the reflex to pull away, relaxing to take him fully, swallowing him down.
"Holy shit," he growled, his voice dropping an octave. "Casey, your fucking throat..."
I looked up at him through the water streaming down my face, my eyes watering from the depth of his thrusts, but unwilling to stop. There was something intoxicating about seeing Matt like this—powerful yet vulnerable, commanding yet desperate. He thrust deeper, cupping the back of my head as he choked me, as my lips brushed against the base of his shaft, his balls slapping my chin. I couldn’t look away from the hunger in his eyes.
My own cock throbbed painfully between my legs, untouched but rock hard. I reached down to stroke myself, matching the rhythm of Matt's thrusts into my mouth.
"That's it," Matt encouraged, watching me touch myself while he fucked my throat. "So fucking hot, Casey."
The shower spray turned the slick sounds of our activities into a symphony of splash and slurp, the acoustics of the small space amplifying Matt's groans and my muffled moans. My jaw ached pleasantly, my throat working around his thickness, while my hand pumped my own cock with increasing urgency.
"I'm close," Matt warned, his movements becoming more erratic. "Fuck, I'm gonna—"
He tried to pull back, but I gripped his ass, holding him in place, making my intentions clear. His eyes widened briefly before narrowing in pleasure as he surrendered to my silent demand.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck," he chanted, his hips stuttering as he thrust deep one final time.
I felt him pulse against my tongue, the first hot splash of his release hitting the back of my throat. I swallowed reflexively, continuing to work him with my mouth as he rode out his orgasm, his fingers almost painfully tight in my hair.
The taste of him, the sounds he made, the knowledge that I'd brought him to this state of complete abandon—it all pushed me over the edge. I came with a muffled groan, still suckling Matt's softening cock, my release painting the shower floor in white streaks that quickly washed away in the spray.
As the intensity subsided, Matt gently withdrew from my mouth, his thumbs smoothing my lips with unexpected tenderness. He pulled me to my feet, his arms steadying me as my legs threatened to give way.
"That was..." he started, then shook his head, apparently at a loss for words.
"Yeah," I agreed, my voice hoarse. "It was."
“You like it?”
I shrugged. “It’s sexy to me. It turns me on.”
He kissed my forehead, then my lips. “Maybe I’ll choke on your dick one of these days, see what it’s like.”
I stuck out my tongue at him. “Only if you’ve fed me your cum first.”
We stayed like that for a moment, his arms around me, his lips pressed to my forehead under the shower spray, catching our breath. Matt reached for the shampoo, squeezing a dollop into his palm before working it into my hair. His fingers massaged my scalp with gentle pressure, and I closed my eyes, surrendering to the unexpected intimacy of being washed by another person.