14. Matty
Matty
In the end, we didn’t take home the fifty grand. Or the glass cake stand painted to look like a snowy winter scene. That honor went to Colt and Mila’s two-tiered cookie castle, complete with an isomalt moat.
I could barely spell isomalt.
I did, however, take home the next best thing: Diaz’s monster cock. Talk about one hell of a consolation prize.
“Fuck, Matty.” Diaz groaned, tangling his fingers in my hair. “You’re getting good at this.”
He was sitting on the edge of the bed, his joggers shoved down around his ankles while I licked his cock like a candy cane.
The cabin was quiet except for the wet, rhythmic sounds of my mouth working him and his low, ragged breathing. We had been at this for a while, long enough to make my jaw ache and dick throb.
But I didn’t care.
Diaz was right; I was getting better at this.
I wonder if they make ribbons for “most improved dick sucking.”
I couldn’t say it was an award I had ever aspired to achieve, but that was only because I hadn’t known what I was missing. Blow jobs were fun. Hard work—hell, there was a reason it was called a job—but fun, nonetheless.
This wasn’t my first time sucking Diaz off, but it was easily my most enthusiastic attempt yet.
I had spent the last few days practicing, learning how to relax my throat, how to hollow my cheeks and suck until his thighs trembled.
I still couldn’t take all of him without gagging, but fuck, I wanted to.
Badly.
But my gag reflex hadn’t gotten the memo just yet. That didn’t stop me from trying, though.
I loosened my jaw and sank down as far as I could. When his thick head nudged the back of my throat, I held him there, breathing through my nose and the tears clouding my vision.
One Mississippi. Two Mississippi.
Fuck me, I was counting Mississippis while sucking my teammate’s cock.
I only made it to five before I had to pull off with a wet gasp, strings of spit connecting my swollen lips to his tip.
“Easy, tesoro,” Diaz murmured softly. “You don’t have to—”
“I want to.” I licked a long stripe up the underside of his cock, tracing the thick vein there. “Practice makes perfect and all that.”
He let out a breathless laugh. “Happy to be your practice dummy.”
“Do you ever stop talking?”
I smirked, then wrapped my hand around the base and took him back into my mouth. As I swirled my tongue around the head, my finger curled inside his ass, just enough to find that spot inside that made his gasp.
He hissed, hips jerking up.
“Good?” I asked.
“Fucking great.”
“Want more?”
Diaz’s fingers tightened in my hair, not gently this time. He used the grip to tilt my head back, forcing me to look up at him. His eyes were dark, pupils blown wide with heat.
“Do your worst,” he rasped.
The edge in his voice sent a shiver down my spine. Before I could respond, he guided my mouth back down onto his cock. I opened for him eagerly, taking him as far as I could.
His fingers stayed tangled tight in my hair, holding me there, and this time, when I pushed a little further, the slight sting of pain only made me moan around him.
Fuck, I loved it.
The sharp tug on my scalp, the way he held me exactly where he wanted me—it made everything hotter. I hollowed my cheeks and sucked harder, letting him feel how much I wanted this.
Diaz groaned, thighs trembling on either side of me. “Just like that. God, your mouth is perfect.”
I added a second finger inside his ass, curling them just right. The broken sound he made went straight to my own aching cock. Saliva dripped down my chin as I worked him, dripping down to his balls in a messy, obscene way that should’ve embarrassed me but, instead, made my tip leak.
I was so hard it hurt.
But first, I needed to hear him fall apart.
“Me haces perder la cabeza,” he cried out, rocking his hips up in shallow thrusts.
I pulled back to catch my breath. “Translation?”
“You drive me crazy.”
“In a good way?”
“In the best way.” His eyes darkened and he smiled devilishly. “Get up here.”
Before I could protest, he hooked his hands under my arms and hauled me off my knees like I weighed nothing.
Within seconds, he had kicked his pants off the rest of the way and rid me of mine.
When we were both finally naked, he tugged me down to straddle his lap, swallowing my surprise with a kiss.
This wasn’t like the quick, hungry kisses we had shared before. This one was deeper. Slower. His lips were soft but insistent, parting mine with gentle pressure that quickly turned demanding.
I groaned into his mouth when our cocks brushed together, and he swallowed the sound like he wanted to keep it.
You can have it, Peter. You can have all of me.
One of his hands slid up my back, fingers splaying wide across my spine, pulling me closer until there wasn’t an inch of space between us. His other hand cupped the back of my neck, tilting my head just enough to deepen the kiss.
I tasted myself on him from earlier, and the filthy realization made me shudder against him. His tongue swept into my mouth, slow and thorough, like he couldn’t get enough.
That made two of us.
I kissed him back just as desperately, my hands roaming over his shoulders, his chest, the smooth, warm skin of his shaved head. I loved the way he felt under my palms. When I dragged my nails lightly down his back, he moaned, the sound vibrating through both of us.
“Again,” he groaned against my lips.
I scraped my nails down his back a second time, a bit harder now, dragging them from his shoulders all the way down to the dip above his ass. Diaz arched into the touch with a low, broken sound.
“Fuck, yes,” he hissed, biting at my bottom lip. “I love when you do that.”
The praise made my face flush and dick twitch. I did it again, slower this time, letting my nails catch on his skin just enough to, hopefully, leave behind faint, red lines that he would feel tomorrow.
If I couldn’t claim him publicly, I could at least mark him as mine in private.
Apparently, that was exactly what he wanted, too. He rewarded me with another deep, filthy kiss, tangling his tongue with mine while his hand tightened on the back of my neck.
We stayed like that for what felt like forever. Kissing, grinding, my nails dragging down his back every time he begged for more. Our cocks slid together, but we didn’t rush. It felt too good just to be close like this, our mouths hungry and bodies pressed tight.
Finally, Diaz pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against mine, both of us breathing hard.
“Fuck, Matty,” he whispered, voice wrecked. “You have no idea what you do to me.”
“You do it to me, too,” I breathed. The words slipped out before I could overthink them. “All the time.”
Diaz’s eyes darkened with something fierce and tender at the same time. He kept them trained on me as he slid his hand between our bodies and spat into his palm.
Holy hell.
The sheer filth of it sent a fresh wave of heat rushing straight through me.
Diaz grinned wickedly. “You like that?”
I could only nod, breath caught in my throat. He wrapped his hand around both our lengths, pressing them tightly together.
“Oh, fuck,” I choked.
The friction was almost overwhelming. He gave us one slow stroke, then again, faster this time, twisting his wrist at the heads so the spit and precum mixed and slicked the way.
“I want to feel you come on me,” he murmured against my mouth, kissing me quick. “I want you to lose it all over me, tesoro. Mark me up.”
Make me yours.
He didn’t have to say it.
I rocked forward instinctively, chasing the delicious friction.
Our cocks slid together in his fist, every drag sending sparks shooting up my spine.
It was a little awkward at first, finding the right rhythm, figuring out where the hell to put my hands.
I finally settled them on his shoulders, digging my fingers into the firm muscles there and using him for leverage as I thrust into his grip.
The old bed creaked beneath us with every movement. One of these days, I was going to get him into a real bed, something big enough for both of us to really stretch out. Not this tiny thing that felt like it belonged in my granny’s guest room.
That didn’t matter. Not right now.
I concentrated on the tight grip of his palm and the way his breath hitched every time our cockheads pressed together. On the sweat beading along my spine, trickling down my back.
Sex had never felt like this. Not for me, at least.
With Diaz, it was like every slide of his hand, every shared breath, was rewriting what I thought I knew about myself. And he hadn’t even gotten inside me yet.
I leaned in and pressed my mouth to his neck, tasting the salt of his skin mixed with the faint cedar of his body wash. When I sucked lightly at his pulse point, hard enough to leave a mark, he groaned deep in his chest.
“Fuck. Matty—” His words broke off into a moan as I did it again, scraping my teeth gently over the spot.
“Look at us, Peter,” I breathed, pressing my forehead to his. I couldn’t look away from where his hand worked us. Our cocks flushed dark, sliding together in his fist. The sight was filthy and beautiful at the same time. “Look at what you do to me.”
Diaz’s grip tightened, stroking us faster. His thumb swiped over the heads on every upstroke, spreading the leaking precum and making everything even wetter. My balls drew up tight, pressure building fast and relentless low in my gut.
“I’m close.” He gasped, hips stuttering.
“You gonna be a good boy and come for me?”
“God yes.”
“Don’t hold back, baby,” I growled, barely recognizing my own voice. I rocked my hips down harder, fucking into his fist. “Make a mess of me.”
That was all it took.
Diaz came with a low, guttural sound that vibrated through his whole body. His cock pulsed hard in his hand, thick ropes of cum spilling across both our stomachs in hot, messy stripes. The sight of him falling apart pushed me right over the edge after him.