Chapter 35
Hovering above Graham’s nose, Brent’s member stood at attention. Graham licked his lips hungrily. Now here was a gift he’d unwrap any time of year.
A drip of precum fell from Brent’s slit and landed squarely on Graham’s mouth. Even in that singular drop, Graham could taste the salty delicacy he’d now come to recognize.
“This cock is mine, Brent.”
Without further ado, he gripped Brent’s shaft at its base and inserted the tip between his lips.
Brent’s warm, plump cockhead entered Graham’s eager mouth. But not so eager as to rush things. The best blowjobs, Graham knew, were about the long game. The slow, gradual, sensual torture.
By the end of this, it would be Brent who was on his knees.
Lovingly, Graham swirled his tongue over Brent’s tender, sensitive head, slicking it generously with sloppy, wet saliva. Gently, he suckled on the tip, providing just enough suction to tease what lay in store.
A quiet but unmistakable moan followed suit from Brent. Clearly, he was enjoying Graham’s warm-up.
Of course, this was only the opening act, so to speak.
The time had come to show Brent just what he knew how to do.
Loosening his jaw, Graham prepared to accept more of his companion’s cock into his mouth. He couldn’t fucking wait to feel it filling up his throat again.
Especially after how Brent had so greedily cut him short the last time he’d tried blowing him. No sooner had Graham gotten started worshipping that perfect dick than he’d found it unceremoniously taken from him just so Brent could return the favor.
Not that Graham had complained. A generous lover was always a green flag in his book. Today, though, it was him who’d be doing the giving.
He had other plans in store when it came to receiving, anyway.
Slowly, his lips parted further, granting Brent’s thick rod entry into his warm, slutty mouth. This afternoon, there’d be no rushing things. Graham was going to take all the time he wanted giving Brent the torture he deserved.
“Fuuuck, Graham,” Brent sighed, barely above a whisper.
The praise lit a warm glow in Graham’s chest. God, this was surreal.
If it wasn’t for the twitching of Brent’s quivering cock in his mouth, Graham would have struggled to believe this was truly happening.
His first real crush—the all-star jock whom nerdy, young Graham hadn’t even thought knew he existed back in school—now rendered virtually helpless, completely at his mercy.
If only eighteen-year-old Graham could see himself now.
At this, his brow creased, contemplative. On second thought, eighteen-year-old Graham would have likely keeled over from embarrassment at a sight like this.
Present-day Graham, though? He fucking ate it up. If it was a dirty cocksucker Brent wanted, it was a dirty cocksucker he would get.
He tightened his lips around Brent’s shaft as he took more of its length into his mouth. Devilish, he pressed his tongue firmly against its underside, running it sensually over the intimate, sensitive region.
“Ohhh, fuuuck,” Brent whimpered, his whole body giving way to a shiver.
The raw animal desire in his voice made Graham’s blood pump on overdrive.
Thank god he’d come to his senses and agreed to a redo with Brent.
To think he’d almost missed out on this—the euphoria of this rock-hard cock pressing firm against the walls of his throat, practically to the point of choking him—simply because he’d been afraid of catching feelings.
But that was all behind them. Now that they’d worked things out, this wasn’t so hard—this keeping their emotions out of it. After all, they were just two dudes, doing things that made dudes feel good. What was confusing about that?
Nothing.
Not when there were no strings.
No expectations.
No commitments.
Just good old-fashioned, hot-as-hell gay sex.
Without further ado, Graham thrust himself down to the base of Brent’s cock, taking its entire ten-inch length inside his mouth.
“Hoooly fuuuck, Graham,” Brent cried out in ecstasy.
The only response that followed was a blissful, muffled gag as the head of Brent’s cock lodged deep in Graham’s throat.
A self-satisfied glow beamed inside Graham then. He knew fake moans from real ones. And the moans currently emanating from Brent—the unbridled, full-bodies cries of bliss he literally couldn’t contain—these were most certainly the real deal.
No doubt about it, this was the best blowjob Brent had ever received. And it was all made possible by none other than Graham.
Yup, he thought to himself, still got it.
To his chagrin, Graham did need to come up for air eventually. With a sharp, loud cough, he pulled himself off Brent’s schlong, leaving a foamy string of saliva stretching from its tip to his lips.
“Jesus, Graham,” Brent panted as he aimed to recover, “that mouth of yours is insane.”
Graham smiled up at the gorgeous face above him. “That dick’s not half-bad either.”
The remark spurred a light chuckle.
Stroking the shaft before him, Graham licked his lips, eyes insatiable. “Well, strap in, pal. ’Cause I’m just getting started.” Without further ado, he shoved Brent’s cock back inside his mouth.
And just like that, a light, delicate jingle chimed in the air. The blood in Graham’s veins flash-froze.
The door.
* * *
“Quick, behind the counter.” Brent’s voice came hushed, frantic.
Obedient, Graham ducked below. “I thought you said no one ever comes in this time of day.”
Brent, however, was in no mood for arguing. “Is now really the time for ‘I told you so’s?” Stationing himself at the register, he inhaled a deep, centering breath.
As much as Graham hated to admit it, Brent did have a point. Hunkering behind the counter as Brent stood above, Graham lay in wait, dying to know which unsuspecting townie had so nearly walked in on a scene far hotter than any beverage on the menu at this quaint cocoa shop.
He certainly didn’t have to wait long. The next thing Graham heard was a voice he knew well.
“Well, squeeze my sugarplums, you are open today.”
Hidden behind the counter, Brent’s still-erect dick bobbed just inches from Graham’s face as he mustered a good-natured chuckle. “Perfect timing as always, Mayor Pickering.”
Crouched out of sight, Graham begged to differ. Of course that doddering nuisance would be the one to practically catch them in the act.
He pressed himself firmly against the backside of the bar.
For fig’s sake, here he was a successful LA businessman, a PR powerhouse who navigated landmines in his sleep, cowering like a dog behind a chintzy hot cocoa bar in his hole-in-the-wall hometown to hide himself from the missing fourth Stooge.
Orlando wouldn’t believe it if Graham tried.
Not that he would ever reveal such a tawdry tale as this to his assistant.
He pulled his knees in tight to his chest. Brent’s dick—that perfect pole still glistening with Graham’s saliva—was still hard as a rock, its plump, red head nearly close enough to poke Graham’s eye out.
He licked his lips, longing. How in holy holly did Brent still have an erection?
Apparently, this hot cocoa hunk possessed a Yule log that didn’t burn out easily.
Catching himself, Graham shook himself back to reality. This was no time for holiday gaiety. Not when they had a sex-mergency on their hands.
A faint smile quirked on Graham’s lips. Sex-mergency—say, that’s pretty good, Graham, ’ol—
He shut the thought down. Why on earth had he listened to Brent? No one ever comes in this time of day, huh?
Well, it appeared today was the exception.
He worked to calm his nerves. Everything will be fine, he assured himself.
A walking paperweight like Pickering, how complicated could his order be?
If Graham had to bet, he’d say the Mayor was a straight-up, no-frills hot cocoa kind of guy.
Just a simple, easy drink. He’d be out of here in no time.
Glory, had he been wrong. As Graham found out next, when it came to hot cocoa, the proud Mayor of Mistletoe Grove was neither simple nor easy.
Peering at the menu on the chalkboard, the Mayor adjusted his glasses gingerly.
“Can I help make any decisions?” Brent asked with his most polite smile.
How on earth is he keeping it together right now? Graham wondered behind the bar.
Pickering stroked his chin, contemplating. “Well, Doc Swanson tells me I ought to watch my weight.”
“Not a problem at all,” Brent replied. “We have a number of reduced-sugar—”
“’Course, I never did care much for that old quack and his health kicks.”
A blank stare followed then from a tongue-tied Brent.
Beneath the counter, Graham just rolled his eyes. Leave it to Pickering to make things difficult.
“Well, I won’t tell if you won’t.” Brent touched a finger to the side of his nose.
The remark earned him a conspiratorial smile. “I knew there was something I liked about you, son. Now, tell me about your holiday specials.”
Exasperated, Graham buried his head in his hands. So much for a quick in-and-out. Brent was going to pay big time for putting him through this.
Starting…now.