Chapter 12 #2
“Fuck, Ash.” He curls his fingers into the waistband of my boxers. “You’re hot as hell.”
I lean down and kiss him, hard, tongue in his mouth as my fingers find those dark nipples, caressing them to hard, straining points. He’s making soft sounds against my lips as he pulls my shorts down around my ass, freeing my cock, and I moan as his hand closes around me.
“Sit up for a sec,” he says. “I wanna get a good look at you.”
I slide back and let him look as he pumps my cock in his hand, slowly. The look on his face is almost too much and I close my eyes, tipping my head back. “Fuck. That feels so good.”
“Messy boy,” he observes, swirling his thumb around the wet tip, and I bite back another moan. “You’re awfully wet.” His mouth twitches. “Like a girl, almost.”
“Bold thing to say when you’ve got my dick in your hands,” I say hoarsely, stroking his nipples as I thrust myself slowly into his hand. I want to put them in my mouth. “It’s your fault, anyway.”
“Yeah? This all for me, butterfly?” His palm skims up my body, my neck. His thumb brushes over my racing pulse. “Eres hermoso,” he murmurs. “Quiero ver como te derrites1.”
I’m positively melting beneath his affection. He could’ve been saying anything to me and it wouldn’t have mattered. He could be calling me an ugly stupid idiot and I’d go to pieces anyway. “That’s not fair,” I say breathily. “Using Spanish on me isn’t fair.”
He chuckles and it’s such a good, sexy sound, rumbling in his chest. “You better not be close already.”
“So what if I am?” Because if he keeps touching me like this he’s going to get a real good view of the money shot. It’s been so long he might get a face full of it.
Sam’s cock throbs between my legs and I squirm down on it, making him suck in his breath. He squeezes me tighter. “Then I hope you’ve got enough gas in the tank for me to rail the shit out of you after.”
“You might find out whether I do or not, at this rate.”
He sits up and wraps an arm around me, pinning my dick between us.
It’s slick against our skin, and I can’t help but keep rubbing myself on him, trying to get there myself because it feels too damn good not to chase.
His free hand trails up my inner thigh and my lower belly spasms so sharply it drives another gasp from me.
“Fuck me,” he murmurs, kissing me again. “You’re so needy. I love it.”
It’s true and I’m almost startled by it, how much I really do need in this moment.
But I don’t question it. I just keep giving it back to him, asking-taking-chasing.
I want him and I want to be fucked and I’m so damn close to an orgasm like I haven’t been in years.
I’m actually here; I’m at home in my skin.
My fingers sink into his curly hair as I kiss him back hungrily, like I’m trying to crawl down his throat. He’s a good kisser, too; of course he is. Attentive, reciprocative, not sloppy at all (even though I sort of am), following my lead and then matching it perfectly.
His thumb strokes along the inside of my thigh and it’s making me crazy. “Off,” he mumbles against my mouth, before his teeth sink into my lower lip gently and tug. He yanks at my boxers where they’re tangled in my legs. “Before I rip them off.”
“My brand new underwear?” I whisper in mock horror.
But I rise on my knees so he can yank them off, one leg at a time, and they go the same way my T-shirt did. His big hands palm my completely bare body and there is a split second where I wonder if it’s good enough, having seen his ex-girlfriend and the sorts of women he’s into.
He lowers his head, dropping kisses across my shoulders and collarbone. His nose touches the hollow of my throat. “Precioso2,” he intones softly.
I reach out to touch his shoulder, steadying myself. “I hope that’s a good thing.”
His hands slide down my flanks as he buries his face in my chest. “I wanna be inside you so fuckin’ bad.”
That makes two of us. I’m starting to feel like if I don’t get fucked in the next five minutes I’ll combust entirely. Everywhere he touches me lights me up, like some slow-burning, smoldering fire beneath my skin. Hard to breathe, hard to think past how much I want this.
His mouth drags across one of my nipples as he cups and kneads my ass. There’s a moan trapped in my throat. “Sam—”
He shudders. “Jeez. Don’t say my name like that.”
“Why not?” My forehead comes down to touch the top of his head, my hands framing his face as he licks up my chest to my throat again. “Huh? You gonna come your pants, too?”
“You’re an asshole.” But he’s smiling; I can feel it against my skin as he nuzzles my ear. “Sorry for finding you sexy. I’ll never do it again ever.”
“No,” I protest, “keep doing it. It feels good.”
He presses his face to mine and takes a deep breath. “Oh, good. ‘Cause I don’t think I can get enough of you. Wanna eat you alive.”
I shiver in his arms. My own fingertips walk down his rippling, muscular back until they find the waistband of his shorts. “I want to see you already,” I say. “Get naked.”
“Mm.” He kisses just behind my ear—the tattoo—and I die another little death or several, crumbling against him. “Do you promise not to freak out?”
“Why would I—”
He takes my wrist and slides my hand down the front of the silky shorts. The moment I feel the velvety weight of him in my palm, I take hold. He’s got a thick cock all right, heavy, and I’m all too eager to see it and more. I don’t know what he thinks I’d be freaked out by.
“Well?” He kisses my cheek. His deep voice has ratcheted down another octave, if that’s even possible, and it’s so sexy.
“Well, what? It’s a big fucking dick.” I almost say so what but manage to stop myself in time. Don’t want to insult him, not even playfully. Just from the brief glimpse I had before I know it’s absolutely magnificent.
Sam keeps peppering me with kisses. I can feel him smiling. “That’s all you’ve gotta say about it? Nothing else notable?”
I roll my wrist, work him across my palm, and he groans softly against my ear. My thumb goes to swipe across the tip—and that’s when I feel the extra skin there. “Oh, right,” I say, delighted. “You’re uncut.”
“Yeah.” He sounds a little breathless, pushing himself into my hand. “It freaks girls out sometimes. Wasn’t sure if you’d scream or something.”
Of all the men I’ve slept with, never have I been with someone who’s uncircumcised.
It’s so soft. And he seems so much more sensitive than any other guy, just touching him like this is making him squirmy and breathy, shivery sounds in my ear that set my nerve endings alight.
I fist his shorts and pull, and then they’re off and I can finally see all of him.
And he is, as far as I’m concerned, perfect.
His dick is darker than the rest of him, surrounded by a thatch of black hair that trails up to his navel, and when I jerk him off the moist tip of him emerges like the best surprise ever.
As he watches me with fever-bright eyes I lower my head and flick my tongue over the slit, and he even smells and tastes different.
Everyone does, I guess, but there’s a sameness to penises after a while; you’ve seen one and you’ve seen them all, at least it seems to me.
But Sam’s is an absolute marvel. I could play with it all day. I could get obsessed.
“Stop,” he grits out, a hand in my hair. “I want to fuck you.” My tongue swirls over the head and elicits a gasp. “Jesus, you’re way too good at that.”
“I’m good at a lot of things.” And I want to show him. I wanna rock his fucking world. That’s the thing about getting to choose, not having to wait for it all to be over. Not having to go somewhere else.
But he’s tugging at my hair, dragging me back up.
Kissing me, tasting his own salt on my lips, my tongue, and he’s hungry, too.
Pulling me into his lap and grinding his cock against mine, which is—oh—dangerous, reminding me how I was already riding the edge just before this and bringing me right back to the brink just as quick.
His fingers dig into my thighs so hard he’s going to leave bruises, but that’s okay. I don’t mind at all.
“Do you have lube?” he mumbles into my mouth. Our kisses are getting sloppy and wet now; we’re both losing all sense of ourselves, spiraling out and fraying. “Condoms?”
“Mmm.” My tongue brushes his. “Mmhmm.”
If he thinks it’s strange I walk around with these things, he keeps it to himself. He releases me with the utmost reluctance. “Hurry.”
And hell, I wish I hadn’t left my backpack on the chair, across the entire goddamn room.
Which I have to walk to, jelly-legged and wobbly like a fawn, so I can rummage around for some KY and a condom.
My brain feels like it’s lagging, short-circuiting, going to explode and kill me before I can even get off and it doesn’t help that Sam’s eyes are tunneling a hole right through me from behind.
I can feel him on me, hot and cloying as a heavy blanket, except I like it. I want more of it.
But I succeed in my quest, somehow, even though my trembling hands feel like they belong to someone else. I drop everything on the bed and Sam picks up the little gold-foil square, tearing it open. I watch him roll it down over his length, the pale latex contrasting against his gorgeous brown skin.
And then he’s pulling me back in his lap again and kissing my neck.
I try to protest that I’m not ready, haven’t prepped myself or anything, but as his hands cup my ass once more I realize he’s got the lube and his slick fingers are circling my hole.
I gasp and arch against him as he slips a finger into me.
I hold onto him tight and there’s something so terribly intimate about being fingered while you’re in someone’s lap, wrapped all around them.
Usually this is my job. I don’t trust tricks with this part.
But Sam’s no trick. I breathe out and let go, let him revel in it like he has all the rest. He watches my face as he pumps his fingers into me, and he’s sort of clumsy, inexperienced, but that just makes it sexier somehow.
By the time he’s done playing with me I’m fly-stung, skin jumping at every touch. It’s all too much and not enough.
“Okay?” he whispers to me. “You ready for this?”
I don’t give him an answer. Or I do, actually, by reaching between my legs and lining him up with me, and then sinking down on him at long last. He groans deep in his throat, holding fast onto my hips until I’ve taken all of him and god, he really fucking fills me up from every angle.
Both of us are breathing fast, almost too fast, just from the simple act of penetration, as if it is some incredible labor.
I love it. It’s sating some deep-seated psychological need for me that hasn’t been adequately fulfilled in years, somehow; I’m Goldilocks looking for the perfect ride, and I think I might’ve just found it.
Or maybe being filled up and fucked when you want it, when it’s with the person you chose, makes all the difference in the world.
“Wait,” he stutters as I begin to move, clutching me. “Wait a sec.”
“What? What’s wrong?”
“You just—” Sam takes a deep breath, and I touch his face. “It’s been a minute and you’re tight as hell. I don’t want to blow already.”
I laugh, soft and breathless, and the movement makes my insides clench around him. He shudders again and buries his face in the crook of my neck. “It’s okay,” I say. “It’s okay if you don’t last long.”
“I want to nail you through the floor. I want—” He breathes in again and it’s shaky. “I wanna do a million things to you.”
“Who says you can’t?”
“Because there aren’t a million hours in the day.
” He rubs his face against my shoulder, then drops a kiss there.
Two. Three. More, as he makes his way up the side of my neck, my jaw, where his tongue traces the shell of my ear and I sigh.
I begin moving again, slowly this time, and his hips rise in time with mine.
“Fuck,” he whispers against my cheek. “You feel so good, butterfly.”
I moan his name sweetly for him and he likes that.
I adjust myself so I can wrap my legs around his waist and he likes that, too.
Likes it so much he lays me on my back so he can get more control, thrust into me slowly with one hand on the back of my hip, the other on the headboard.
I get a good view of his flexing triceps, the dark hair beneath his arm and his handsome face as he gazes down at me.
His fingers find my cock where it lies curved against my stomach, and he begins jerking me off again as he starts fucking me faster, harder—hard enough that I have to brace myself against the headboard.
The old frame creaks and squeals but it’s still not as loud as either of us, between the moaning and oh fucks and fuck yeahs and whatever obscene shit Sam’s saying in Spanish, and when he claps a hand over my mouth I reach up and clap one over his.
For some reason it just makes the whole thing even hotter, trying to be quiet, trying to shut us up, his forehead pressed to mine as he drives me into the mattress and rearranges my insides.
Every thrust nails my prostate and it’s so much, almost too much.
And when I come it sneaks up on me totally, explosively even, crying out from behind his hand as it jets between us. All over his hand and my stomach, painting both of us, and that’s when he rears back with a throaty groan of his own. “Close,” he pants. “Close, I’m close Ash. Fuck.”
I feel it when he does go, his breath coming in husky gasps as he slams himself inside me as far as he can go.
His cock twitches inside me as it empties itself and god, it’s hot watching him, his sweaty chest heaving and his throat working and his dark hair clinging to his high cheekbones, lower lip clamped between his teeth. His long lashes flutter.
“Sam,” I whisper breathlessly.
I reach for him, and he comes back to me as he pulls out.
He kisses me, deep and ardent, with another soft moan, like just kissing is enough for him.
He cups my face in his hands and kisses me and kisses me until we can hardly breathe, and for a moment everything in the whole world feels good and right and almost perfect.
Ignoring the fact this ends tomorrow. Ignoring the fact I may never see him again.
Or…maybe I will? Maybe we can be friends?
Maybe we can be something.
Maybe.
1 You’re beautiful, I want to watch you fall apart.
2 Precious. Used like “beautiful”