Nine #2
“I don’t need more endorsements!” Miles ground against me as he spoke. “You know there are rules about how many commercial logos I can have on my gear, yeah? No one wants me to look like a fucking billboard.”
“Watch your language. You had better not talk like that when your mother calls. She’s worked hard to get this deal for you.”
“You mean for you.” There was anger there but also a husky, desperate note as Miles breathed hard against my neck, his skilled hand bringing me far closer to climax than I would have thought possible with his father right fucking there.
With a long-suffering sigh, Mr Callahan pushed back his chair with a loud scrape over kitchen tiles.
“I don’t know what’s gotten into you, Miles,” he said.
“Go cool off, and when I call back, I want to hear ‘yes’ and ‘thank you’ and ‘damn right you had better send my team over’, or there’ll be trouble. ”
He ended the call without a goodbye. And as his face finally disappeared, Miles tightened the arm across my chest to keep me from turning.
“What the fuck?” I said, though the words came out half groan. “Were you trying to make me come in front of your dad?”
“No, that would have been a waste,” he laughed, slowing his stroking in a way that only made me more sensitive. “God, you’re hot, Mat.” He nuzzled against the back of my head. “Can I fuck you?”
“Yes!” The word came out so fast that Miles chuckled and my cheeks flared hotter than ever, though it was hard to care with the promise of his cock pressed against my arse.
Removing his hands, Miles pushed me toward his bedroom, and in the dozen steps to his door, we tore off our clothes, laughing and shoving each other as we left a scattered trail in our wake.
Like the rest of his apartment, his bedroom was perfectly tidy, lacking even open suitcases on the floor.
Another large vase of flowers sat on the narrow desk, and he’d tied back the curtains and made the bed.
Although this didn’t stop him shoving me onto it and crawling atop me naked, his hair falling around his face like a lion’s mane.
Hunger glinted in his eyes and his cock hung heavy between his legs, everything about him owning a hint of threat, not merely promise.
I swallowed hard.
“Roll over,” he said.
God, I wanted this, wanted him, but it had been ages since I’d bottomed and never in a million years had I thought it would be Miles of all people who ended that drought.
He tilted his head, regarding me. “What? Are you nervous?”
“No,” I said. “It’s just . . . been a while.”
Miles brushed some of his mane behind one ear, the bright look in his eyes sliding into something wary.
So much for being versatile. He’s going to think that was a lie and maybe it was, because however much I enjoyed it, I had far less practice at this and now I was making things difficult. He’d clearly been after a fun, easy fuck to let off some steam, and didn’t need another of my crises.
Swallowing the urge to apologise, I dug my shoulder into the bed and made to roll, only for him to stop me with a hand on my arm.
“Hey, don’t sweat it,” he said, his gaze softening into amusement.
“I’m not.” I could feel myself reddening. Again. “It’s fine.”
A smile twitched the corner of his lips.
“I know, you’re just overthinking yourself out of that free meal.
” He rubbed his cock against mine as he spoke, sending a frisson of delight through my skin that temporarily halted even my overthinking.
“But don’t, because I’ll make sure it’s good, I promise. ”
With that, he sat back to lube himself up; a show he performed while watching me through half-lidded eyes.
I took in every stroke of his length and every slippery sound with a breathlessness part nerves, part anticipation – anticipation that became a held breath as he shifted his weight and lifted one of my knees.
“Relax,” he said, sliding slick fingertips down my arse.
I wanted to, but this was Miles Callahan running his thumb around my hole, Miles Callahan pressing against the muscle, Miles fucking Callahan slipping a finger into me.
It hadn’t mattered with our positions reversed, because I hadn’t been the one trusting him.
Now, I had to swallow the embarrassment of having forced him to take this much care when all he’d wanted was a furious fuck to take out some frustration.
“Are you sure you even like this?” he asked as I tensed around his attempt at a second finger.
“Yes! I told you, it’s just been a while.” I shifted my hands as far down his back as I could reach, pulling him closer. “Just do it, you’re stressing me out!”
He gave a one shouldered shrug, the other too busy holding up his weight. “As long as you’re sure.” Miles slipped his fingers out and flicked hair out of his face with a shake of his head. “Tell me if you need me to stop.”
The head of his cock pushed up against me and I let go a deep breath, wanting this, wanting him, wanting to be what he needed and not fuck this up for either of us.
Holding my gaze like a promise, Miles pressed in slowly, pleasure gathering in a notch between his brows as he went. His evident enjoyment of so simple a thing helped me relax and I groaned softly as he kept going, filling me up like his dick went for days.
“Fuck, you feel good,” he said once he was all in and had started to rock, rubbing against me in a way that made me dig my fingers into his back. “Ah, you do like this,” he added, the words a purr.
“Told you I was . . . versatile. Oh, fuck yes, right there!” He’d shifted position, tilting to an angle that would soon make me lose my mind once he started thrusting in earnest.
“God, Mat, look at you. You really like this.”
I really did. I liked the weight of him and the heat and the fullness, a sensation impossible to simulate with fingers or even toys.
Liked the way he gripped my hips and moved me how he wanted, as though I existed only to give him pleasure – a passive act of service that thrilled because it was me he wanted.
I liked, too, that having proved I truly did enjoy this, he stopped being so gentle and gave in to the need that had brought us there.
He sped his pace, fingers digging into my hips as he built to a rhythm not intended to drag this out. Fast and furious did indeed seem to be his goal and I was happy to play my part, letting out moans and begging him for more and harder.
“God. You. Are. Everything,” he said, each word punctuated with a thrust. His breath was coming fast and, wondering how close he was, I reached for my cock only for Miles to grab my hand and lift it above my head, pinning it to the pillow.
“No, that’s my job,” he said, breathlessly edging toward climax.
“So, you have to wait. Unless . . . you ask very nicely.”
“Arsehole,” I said, and presented my other wrist for him to hold captive.
He gathered it into the same hand with an appreciative bite of his lip, and in that moment, being pinned beneath him and enjoyed was everything I had ever wanted.
The hungry appreciation as he watched me.
The sensation of being both possessed and exposed.
The way every hard thrust made my rock-hard cock bounce, desperate for release.
I was so close, but I wasn’t going to let him win by begging just yet.
When he realised I wasn’t giving in, Miles grinned.
And taking it for the challenge it was, he dropped his lips to the side of my neck.
I was plenty sensitive there, but it was the glorious view down his muscular back to his arse that was my undoing.
His arse was always a beautiful sight, though it was the way it moved now that sent a shock of pleasure through me, the way he was rolling his hips, spine curving as he thrust into me again and again with rhythmic grace.
“Oh, fuck. Miles!”
He lifted his head as I arched back, his expression full of smug, self-satisfaction, and while I had refused to let him win, letting him see just how good he felt was not the same. So, instead of biting my lip and swallowing my cries, I let the ragged sounds tear up my throat as I came.
Holding himself over me, Miles had an excellent view and his eyes widened. His rhythm faltered. He slammed into me only to stay there a full second, two, before thrusting again with a thwarted groan as annoyed as it was exultant.
“Damn it!” he said as he rode the tail of his orgasm with a few final thrusts. “I was going to tease you for longer, but that was too fucking hot. You came without me even touching you!”
“Told you I was versatile.”
“Versatile? You mean impossible to predict.” Still holding my wrists pinned, he gave a rueful laugh. “Who would have thought that fucking you would be like playing you. Goddamn. You are going to ruin me, Matteo.”