Chapter 33
Milo
Ican feel him everywhere, his hands rubbing all over my body. Touching me in places I didn’t think could possibly be sensual, yet here he is, making shivers run up and down my spine just by caressing my clavicle.
I’ve known, obviously, that Beau has magical hands. He just does; that’s a fact. The way those twisted fingers work their way inside me, ugh… It undoes me completely. But here, with just the two of us exploring each other’s bodies, I feel captivated.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers in my ear, so low I have to strain to hear him. Maybe that’s part of the appeal. That he’s forcing me, in some sense. He knows I love a little strength tossed around, but who doesn’t love a few mental hurdles?
He lazily kisses my body, my shoulders, my chest, my neck. Soft lips pressing against my warm skin.
“So, so beautiful,” he whispers, kissing my earlobe before sucking it into his mouth and nibbling it a bit.
His tongue licks a stripe down the column of my neck, and I let out a tiny gasp, as if that’s all the noise I’m capable of making.
He chuckles at the sound, licking small circles at the juncture of my neck and shoulder before biting down.
I howl. My straining erection seeks any kind of friction, but he has my arms pinned above my head, no binding necessary, my legs spread wide.
I’m entirely at his mercy.
A fact I think he is all too happy about right now as he teasingly runs his fingers down my arms, reminding me that I’m his. That I could move, but I’m choosing to obey him.
He pulls away and looks down at me, admiring the squirming mess I am.
I whine at the loss of contact until he takes pity on me, ducking down and biting one of my nipples harshly. I cry out, but he knows I love it, the pain mixed with pleasure.
While he tongues one nipple, his hand toys with the other, and my cock is left entirely abandoned. I’m humping the air like a rutting animal, desperate for contact.
“Please, Beau,” I beg, trying desperately to catch his thigh, his hip, anything, as my pelvis humps fruitlessly.
Chuckling, he takes mercy on me and wraps a steady hand around my weeping cock.
“We’re going to play a little game.” He looks down at me, his smile wicked. “You’re going to tell me when you’re about to come, and I’ll stop touching you.” I whine, and he presses a finger to my lips.
“I promise, if you play along, you’ll get the most incredible orgasm.”
“I know the concept of edging, thank you,” I snap at him, immediately not liking where this is going. “What happens if I don’t tell you?”
“Then you will have a boring, ordinary orgasm.” He shrugs, then looks at me with narrowed eyes. “Is that really what you want tonight? To be boring?”
The fucker’s got me there. After all this build up and the dinner tonight, I want extraordinary. I let out a sassy puff of air and shake my head, bracing myself for his torture.
He gives my cock a little squeeze, causing the precome to bead up at the top and I suck in a sharp breath.
Reaching over my body to grab the lube, his own erection brushes mine and my hips jump.
“Naughty boy.” He tsks, squirting a generous amount into his hands before wrapping his fingers delicately back around my aching dick.
“Beau, please,” I beg again, but he just smiles down at me.
“Let’s play, baby.”
And we do.
I am howling, my body bowing toward the ceiling, unable to control the fervent yowls as Beau leaves me dangling on the edge again.
I’ve been brought to the brink a grand total of seven times and have yet to come. My body feels like it’s on fire. My balls are heavy, drawn up tight, desperate to explode.
“Beau, Beau, Beau!” I cry out his name as he jerks and jerks my cock, fingers teasing my hole. It feels like I’m being zapped by lightning in the best possible way, my body tingling with desire and unshed need. I need to come so badly I feel like I might burst from my skin.
Just when I think he might finally let me find release, he stops, and I scream. Tears stream down my cheeks, my face and chest burning hot. I need, need, need to come.
“What, princess?” he coos, leaning in close and kissing my forehead. He licks at my tear-soaked cheeks. “Mmm.” He hums in approval, clearly enjoying my lack of restraint. “Are you ready to come, baby girl?” he asks, faux pity in his eyes.
He’s teasing me.
More tears spill over, and he gently wipes them away.
“Don’t cry, princess. I’ll let you come.” He presses a tender kiss to my lips, and I sob into his embrace, my aching cock twitching, so desperate for release. My body trembling with need. His thumb swipes beneath the head, and my back bows, chasing the sensation.
Please, please, please, I beg, unsure if I’m even speaking anymore. Unsure if I’m even able to.
All I know is lust.
All I know is want.
All I know is need.
My eyes must be shut, because I don’t see him move. I don’t feel him move. Honestly, I can barely feel anything besides my heart beating in my cock, making it twitch violently.
He’s suddenly straddling my face, his cock bobbing in front of me.
I take him into my mouth like I’m starving, ravishing him with my tongue and swallowing around him.
He groans his approval before diving down on my dick.
I’m fully enveloped in the warm heat of his mouth, and it takes everything in me not to thrust blindly and fervently.
My hips pump shallowly, pushing between his plush lips as I chase my release.
It’s right there, within my grasp.
His tongue runs circles around the head before sliding down the shaft, and my eyes roll back into my head. One of his hands tugs on my balls, and I see stars.
“Beau! Beau, I’m gonna…”
I lose all ability to speak as I come, rope after creamy rope spilling into Beau’s mouth. It overflows, dripping from the corner of his lips.
His tongue peeks out to clean up the mess I’ve made. His eyes meet mine, and he smiles.
Fuck, he drives me wild.
I dive back onto his cock, sucking and licking, desperate for his come. He’s moaning, groaning, encouraging my ministrations.
“Yes, baby,” he coos, reaching back to awkwardly run his fingers through my hair. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he curses, and I swallow around him as he bursts down my throat.
I continue to suck on his spent cock until he’s whining and pulling free from my mouth, a little lingering revenge for the delicious edging.
We lie there, side by side, completely worn out.
Beau curls around me, my arms still bound above my head, my legs still spread wide. He makes me feel so safe.
“I love you,” I whisper into his hair.
I can feel him smile against my chest.
“I love you too.”
Somehow, after all of that, I’m able to just make us dinner, like my mind wasn’t just blown out of the water. Like my life didn’t fully leave my body for a few minutes there when I finally came.
Beau is sitting at the table in only a pair of sweats, arms crossed over his chest, watching me.
The burger patties are sizzling on the stove, the smell filling the air around me. I flip one patty and then the other when muscled arms wrap around my waist. He plops his chin on my shoulder, kissing my skin there, then up my neck to my cheek.
“You look so beautiful, your skin flushed, your muscles still taut,” he whispers against my skin, pressing a kiss where his words land. “Was that as incredible for you as it was for me, my love?”
I lean against him, letting him hold me close.
“Every moment with you feels wonderful,” I whisper, feeling my face blush. “But yes, that was something incredible.”
He turns me to face him, kissing my flushed cheeks, before sauntering back to the table. I glance at the patties once more before following him.
Beau leans back in his chair, arms behind his head, just relaxing. We’re deep into the night after our failed attempt at the restaurant and our sexathon, the moon high in the cloudy sky.
A thought occurs to me, and I sit up straight.
“Should we talk about coming out? Like, what that would look like?”
Beau startles a little.
“Do you think we need to?” he asks, leaning toward me, his arms crossing on the table.
“I don’t think it’ll hurt anything,” I say, letting my body relax again. “What’s holding us back from coming out? Our coach supports us, our agent supports us, and our team supports us. So is there anything holding us back anymore?”
He gets a pensive look on his face as he thinks about it, his brows scrunched and his lips downturned.
“Yeah, I guess Miranda has a better outlook than Grady ever had.” He chuckles awkwardly. Something about this is making him uncomfortable. His hand busies itself, fidgeting with a loose thread on the centerpiece.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, reaching across the table and taking his hand in mine. He stares at where my hand holds his. His knee starts bouncing, nervous energy pouring off him. “You know, we don’t have to come out together if you’re not ready,” I say gently.
He looks up at me, brows still pinched together.
“But you’re ready.” He says it matter-of-factly.
I nod slowly, a smile loading.
“We may be boyfriends, but we’re still two separate people. If you’re not ready, then you’re not ready.” I let go of his hand and sit back, letting out a huff of breath. “I don’t even know if I’m ready yet, in all honesty.”
Those pinched brows lift in question.
“Then why do you want to talk about it?”
I shrug, feigning nonchalance when all I feel is anything but.
“I thought it would be nice to gauge where we both are.”
A part of me had been hoping we were both ready. It would be nice to have some big coming-out moment together. But the last thing I want is to make him feel bad for not being sure yet.
I’ll wait for him.
I would wait forever for him.