Chapter 7
It took Adam a moment to realize the words had come out of his own mouth.
Across the kitchen, Mo mirrored his surprise. He blinked rapidly, then said, “I beg your pardon?” Apparently, Adam had shocked him right back to private-school manners.
He should backtrack. Ha, ha, got you again with my dry humor.
Instead, he planted his feet and put his whole body into the check. “What? You don’t think I can do the job?”
Mo’s mouth dropped open.
“You’re not the only one needing an outlet after that shitshow.”
Adam should know better than to speak ill of the people who owned his professional contract, but nobody was acting like they should tonight, least of all the elder Du Ponts, so he didn’t feel much remorse.
But he might tomorrow if he didn’t check on one thing—
“Um. As long as you didn’t say that because you’re wasted.”
That snapped Mo out of his stupor. “I had three glasses of wine.” He rolled his eyes. “I shouldn’t drive, but I’m perfectly capable of deciding whose dick to get on.”
Said dick had taken an active interest in the conversation now, which—it wasn’t like Adam had never had a weirdly timed boner.
He’d been a teenager. But it was definitely the first time he’d had a miserable evening and someone had said to him, Hey, want to fuck it out? and his dick had said, Yes please.
Mo was hot, in his campy mean-girl way, and he wasn’t the only one suffering a self-imposed dry spell.
And maybe, if Adam was lucky, he could fuck Mo into being less of a brat. That would be a win across the board.
“So… you got a wall in mind?”
Mo’s eyes widened a fraction as he finally seemed to grasp that Adam was serious. He waved his arms. “Any of them? All?”
Adam could work with that. “Lube and condoms?”
Mo spun so fast, he stumbled a bit as he lunged for one of the kitchen drawers.
“You keep lube in your kitchen?”
“Never know when you’ll get hungry.” Mo smirked.
Adam stepped up and reeled Mo in. He could think of a better use for that mouth.
Mo groaned and opened under Adam, inviting him and his tongue in.
Fuck, Mo could kiss. Wet and open without being sloppy. Giving without being aggressive. Adam wanted to devour him.
He could do without the crick in his neck from kissing someone so much shorter, though.
Mo wrapped his arms around Adam’s neck and knocked the lube into his cheek. Without looking, Adam pulled the lube and condoms from Mo’s hand and set them down on the counter, then thought of a better use for it.
Adam brought his hands back to Mo’s hips and slid them over his ass, down his thighs, then hoisted him onto the counter and insinuated himself between Mo’s legs. Mo squeaked into his mouth, then moaned.
“Fuck, that was hot. Why am I not fucking more pro athletes?”
“Because then I’d have to give tearful interviews about my unfaithful boyfriend?”
Mo snorted. “Shut up and kiss me, you brute.”
Adam did as instructed. He kissed Mo until they were breathless, then sucked on his jaw and neck, nibbled his ear lobes, searched for any sweet spot that would make Mo gasp. Which he did a lot of. Mo wasn’t a silent lover.
“Fuck, there, give—Shit, we need to get naked, right now.”
Chuckling, Adam reached for Mo’s shirt and started unbuttoning. Mo unwound his arms to help. They wrestled him out of his shirt, and Adam flung it toward the kitchen table. Mo got busy with Adam’s top, rucking it up and gasping between frantic kisses. “Fuck, you’re so hot, so—fuck!—so unfair.”
“I’m hot.” Adam huffed. Mo might not have the looks straight boys coveted, but he was pretty, fit.
He’d been cute as a kid, but he’d grown into his looks.
He was beautiful now, and Adam bet he’d be devastating at thirty-five.
He stepped back enough to look Mo up and down, letting his gaze linger and drag. “You’re one to talk.”
Mo reeled him back in with his heels against Adam’s butt. “Shut up, Murphy, and fuck me.”
“Can’t fuck you with your pants on.” If he wanted access to that pretty ass, he’d have to pull Mo off the counter.
Or Mo could push him back and slip off the counter, having seen the same dilemma.
He reached for his own belt, looked at Adam from under long lashes, and said, “Get naked, Murphy. I want your dick.”
“As you command,” Adam drawled, and got out of his clothes.
He tossed his trousers over one of the kitchen chairs and turned back to see Mo positively lounging against the counter. He had an easy stance, though his hips were canted slightly to give Adam a better view of his cock. Flushed red, it curled toward his belly.
Fuck, Adam wanted to suck it.
Shaking those thoughts away, Adam pulled Mo in for another kiss. His dick bumped against Mo’s belly, slipping against abs damp from sweat and his own pre.
“Where’s that lube?”
Mo passed it back over his shoulder and braced himself on the counter.
Oh, Adam could work with this. He slicked his right hand and stroked between Mo’s cheeks. Mo arched his back pornographically. Unable to resist, Adam slid his left hand up and down his back while he eased one finger inside.
“Fuck.” Mo shoved his hips back, pushing Adam’s finger in to the third knuckle.
Gaze locked on the pretty sight, Adam pulled his finger out, then teased Mo with the feeling of two, brushing his middle finger along the ring of muscle.
“Another one.”
“You sure?” Adam’s fingers matched his dick—long and thick.
“Did I stutter—”
Adam watched his fingers sink in, mouth suddenly dry. Mo opened beautifully. He curled his fingers, searching for Mo’s prostate.
Mo hissed in pleasure. “Looking for extra credit?” A cut-off grunt escaped him. “Good job, you found it. Give me another finger.”
Thank God for a lifetime of following directions—of using his body to do so. Between Mo’s demands and moans of pleasure and the feel of hot, wet muscle clinging to his fingers, Adam’s brain had reached capacity.
“Fuck, baby—yeah, that’s good. I’m ready. Now get this on and fuck me.”
Mo handed him a condom, already unwrapped. Adam took it with slippery fingers and slid it down his length.
Mo turned around and watched him with an assessing gaze, eyes lingering on where Adam gripped the base of his cock. “Still think you can handle the wall?”
Fuck. Adam licked his lips. Swallowed. “Wouldn’t want to break a promise.”
Before he could overthink it, he grabbed Mo’s hand and tugged him toward an empty wall space. Then, once again placing his hands to the back of Mo’s thighs, he lifted.
Mo yelped, then gave a little huffing laugh as he wrapped his arms and legs around Adam and held on. “Okay, I meant we’d both be standing, but this’ll work. Assuming your aim is good from here, cowboy.”
Adam pressed Mo against the drywall and pushed inside. He was right—Mo was less annoying when he was getting fucked. Or maybe the sex hormones made Adam more tolerant.
“You really are—ah—eager to please.” Mo dug one hand into the meat of Adam’s shoulder to hold on. He fisted the other in the hair at the back of Adam’s head, pulling just hard enough to give Adam an extra edge. “Aren’t you? No more Captain Cardboard.”
The hated nickname made Adam thrust in even harder. Mo hissed in surprise or satisfaction and then pushed against the wall, forcing Adam back an inch or two. “Come on. Give it to me like I know you want to.”
Adam snapped his hips forward. The heat and clench of Mo around his cock had pleasure lighting up his brain.
But how much better would it feel, whispered the back of his mind, if he made Mo come around him like this? If he could feel that spasming, out-of-control ecstasy as it racked Mo’s body?
It only needed a small adjustment. Adam had lifted Mo too high for good prostate stimulation—better for kissing, since Mo was so short. But Mo was talking too much to kiss anyway.
Adam let him slip a couple of inches before thrusting back inside. Mo’s head made a loud thunk against the wall when he did, and his nails bit into Adam’s shoulder. “Fuck!” But he recovered quickly. “Yeah, right there. So fucking good. Harder.”
Adam used his grip on Mo’s thighs to fuck Mo toward him. His arms and legs burned with the workout. His abs clenched. Adam had never fucked anyone like this—had always been too conscious of his strength and size. Now he had permission to use them to their full extent, and it made him wild.
It made him so fucking horny, he was going to lose control.
He closed his eyes and rutted, chasing the high he could taste just around the corner. Mo’s breath came in hot, wet puffs against his chest and shoulder, spurring him on.
Somehow, Mo must’ve known Adam was close, because the hand in his hair tightened and pulled back so Adam had to arch his neck. “Feels good, huh?” Mo squirmed against him, scraped his teeth over Adam’s nipple. “No one’s ever let you have it like this, I bet.”
An involuntary sound escaped Adam’s mouth. His biceps and thighs trembled with exertion.
“You’re not gonna leave me hanging, are you, stud?” Mo forced Adam’s head down again, until suddenly, they were eye to eye. “You’re gonna make me come first.”
The entitlement should’ve made Adam angry. Instead, it twigged something else in the back of his brain. He needed to make Mo come—needed to hear it, see it, feel the contraction of his body and the spill of come against his stomach. He just needed to—
Mo’s head hit the wall again when Adam shifted to a one-handed grip so he could wrap the other around Mo’s dick. Just the right size for Adam’s hand to cover almost completely. He could touch so much of him at once.
“Fuck.” Mo closed his eyes and his mouth fell open. “Yeah, come on. Just like that. Give me that nice fat cock. Fill me up with it. Do you feel how hard you make me?”
Adam bit his own lip in a bid for control as Mo’s words lit him up. He rubbed his thumb roughly against the underside of the head.
“Fuck,” Mo said again, and this time, Adam felt the ratcheting tension in his body reach its breaking point. “Yeah, yeah, God, you’re making me come—”