Chapter Thirteen Tom #2
From there, I traveled down to his flat, brown nipple, circling the tip of my tongue around it and feeling his skin pebble beneath my wet mouth.
His hands snatched the lapels of my tux.
At first I thought he was throwing me off him and was about to pull back, but then realized he was tearing my clothes to shreds on his quest to get me naked.
The sound of fabric ripping filled the air.
He whirled to try to push my pants down, and I fisted his ass cheeks, walking him backward, toward the hallway.
We were a torrent of destruction, a Tasmanian devil cycloning in his living room, knocking things down—a remote control, a game controller, a small sculpture—on our way to what I assumed was the bedroom.
I didn’t lift my mouth from his nipple, though. His skin tasted good, and my tongue started wandering skillfully down his sculpted torso.
“Hmmph…Tomcat…”
“What?”
Jesus fucking Christ. Did I actually answer to that stupid nickname?
“This is… I—” He broke off, heaving. “Shit, I can’t believe I’m really doing this.”
My shoulder slammed into a wall. I finally looked up and realized we’d ended up in his open-plan kitchen.
I didn’t want to wait another second, let alone five of them, to make the way to the bedroom and taste him.
And I didn’t want him to stop what was happening because he was too self-conscious about it.
“Turn around and put your palms on the counter.”
He did as he was told, a fucking miracle if I ever saw one.
I cupped him through his tented sweatpants from behind, relishing the wet spot of precum, then patted my way down just to mess with him. Even if he had a weapon, I could take him.
“He’s frisking me now,” Enzo muttered, making my chest quake with laughter. “My life is officially a bad porno. Tutto questo è ridicolo.”
Something about the way he spoke Italian dismantled the part of my brain that was responsible for proper functioning. The way it rolled off his tongue…it undid me. I pushed his sweatpants down, and his ass was so round, muscular, and perfect that I had to swallow down a grunt of appreciation.
Who was I kidding about being here for his well-being?
I was here because I wanted to fuck every sordid secret and scandalous admission out of him.
A middle-aged man pushing forty, who was obsessed with the youthful brat he was supposed to incarcerate.
“Don’t speak Italian when we’re together,” I growled. “It distracts me.”
Your existence distracts me.
He threw his head forward and bit his forearm, no doubt to suppress one of his wiseass, Enzo-esque remarks.
That was all it took for me to get down on my knees, pulling his dick from between his legs behind him, wrapping my fist around the root and bringing the tip to my lips.
His cock was a work of art. Thick, long, tan like the rest of him, with closely trimmed pubes and a protruding vein running along the shaft. I gave his slit an appreciative lick, swiping the clear precum along my tongue, relishing its saltiness.
His hips buckled instinctively.
“What the—HOLY FUCK.”
I sucked on the tip from behind, toying with his balls as much as the angle allowed, making him go wild.
His ass cheeks clenched to each of my strokes.
Every time his palms left the surface of the island, I stopped, and he’d groan and whimper.
It was better that way. So I wouldn’t have to look at his beautiful face.
Into those soft eyes. Face the earnest smile of a man who had no fucking business being so boyish, so cute, so… funny.
No. He wasn’t funny. He was just a clown. There was a difference.
“Can I turn around?” he pleaded.
“No. I’d rather watch your ass than your face.”
“Please.” His voice broke. “I need to fuck your mouth.”
I couldn’t bear his voice anymore. Gravelly and desperate, and so fucking low.
I grabbed his waist and turned him so he faced me.
He nearly wept with joy. I didn’t do it to torment him—though that was certainly a nice bonus.
I initially sucked his dick from behind because I knew the first time was always odd, receiving oral from another man, and I wanted him to be fully immersed in it before he could freak out.
His cock bounced between us, the crown dark and angry, begging for more.
I deep-throated him in one go, letting his tip hit the back of my throat, lathering his shaft with my saliva before releasing him with a pop.
Grabbing his heavy base, I tilted my head to suck his balls, the tip of my tongue playing with his sensitive testicles.
I then sucked the whole sac until he was dripping with my saliva.
My blood raced beneath my skin with heat that threatened to scorch my veins.
I hadn’t given head in a very long time.
I usually skipped the foreplay portion to get to the main event, but with Enzo, I just had to taste every single inch of him.
I devoured his muskiness, the salty taste of his skin, the earthiness of his flesh.
My cock had its own pulse now. It thrummed, straining against the zipper of whatever was left of my torn pants.
My mouth moved back up, my jaw clamping on his crown, before I slid him back into my mouth inch by inch.
“F-ffuuuckkk me, Tom.”
“Soon.” My breath, coarse and strained, fanned against his velvety skin. “So fucking soon.”
Just thinking about my dick in his virginal ass made my pulse skyrocket.
He grabbed my hair again, humping my face now, without finesse or any sense of control. Just pumping in and out animalistically, making unintelligible mewling sounds. Each time he pressed home, another drop of precum hit the back of my throat. It made my entire body vibrate.
“Yeah, take that dick, SSA Rothwell,” he moaned. “Take it good.”
I almost choked on a laugh around his cock. The feeling was disconcerting. I never smiled, let alone full-blown laughed. But he was being a little shit, egging me on and pushing all my buttons. I had a mind to bite his dick off to teach him a lesson.
“I can feel you smiling around my dick, Tomcat. Third smile this week,” Enzo bragged, snatching the back of my neck and angling my face slightly down so his tip dragged across the roof of my mouth with each thrust. Our eyes locked. I gave him a warning glare not to push it.
“You’re not getting soft on me, are you?” He winked with a charming smile, sliding down slightly to brush a hand over the tight fabric around my erection. “Mm. That’s a no.”
It was time I fucked that smart mouth into silence to remind him who was in charge.
I’d had enough of his attitude this week.
Squeezing his shaft, I jacked him off as I sucked him harder, faster, taking him deeper.
I had no gag reflex whatsoever. Never had.
When Enzo realized it, his expression turned from tortured ecstasy to complete wonder and elation.
“Shit. Can I…?” But he didn’t finish the sentence before unloading down my throat with a cry.
His salty, thick cum coated my entire mouth with its warmth.
I kept sucking him off for a couple more minutes, and he kept pumping into me lazily, head slouching back in a groan of pure exhaustion, his fingers still messing with my hair.
When his dick was depleted between my lips, I released him and stood up. “Your turn.”
He took one look at my serious face and started laughing. I fought back a smile. I wasn’t sure if he was laughing with me or at me, but I was positive the effect on me should send me running to the fucking hills.
At what point do you start asking hard questions about the Camorra, asshole? a shred of my former, sane self inquired in the back of my head.
“Can I have one second to catch my breath?” He reached to roll his thumb across the corner of my lips, tucking in a stray drop of cum.
“You can have two, but you need to find my glasses first. I can’t see shit without them.”
“Really?” He tucked himself back into his sweatpants, trying to regulate his breath. “I thought they were a front, to make you look like Henry Cavill’s Clark Kent and drive innocent women and gay men to the brink of horny psychosis.”
I shook my head gravely. “You’re an idiot.”
“You’re not denying it.” He offered me a hand, and when I grabbed it, he pulled me to my feet. “Fine, I’ll go find your nerdy glasses, you blind old bat. Stay here.”
I poured myself a glass of tap water, listening to him dragging furniture in the living room.
It was the first time I became aware of my surroundings.
Though my eyesight wasn’t the best without my glasses, I could still make out the modestly sized, obscenely expensive Manhattan apartment, with all the telltale signs of a swanky skyscraper like the one I lived in—cookie-cutter, modern kitchen in neutral colors, herringbone, slat walls, and one floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the city.
Enzo came back a few moments later, sliding my glasses along my nose and snatching the water mid-sip, tossing it back in one gulp. “All right, I’m ready for your cock now.”