SULLIVAN
Chapter Nine
Ibite back the thank you that wanted to burst from my mouth when Knight gave me that subtle restrained nod, and I swallow it down now along with the head of his pretty, fat cock.
It’s better than I remembered in every single way.
It’s thicker, it’s smoother, it’s hotter and saltier.
It’s like silk on my tongue, smooth against my lips.
It’s all I’ve been thinking about since he set those stupid hot dogs on the table and looked at me like he’d been hypnotized.
Adrian sometimes looks at me like that, but there’s a healthy portion of disdain with his cool regard.
Not with Knight. Knight is more than appreciative—even greedy.
He’s desperate and worshipful, and that’s one hell of a drug.
Something about this boy who’s so repressed and hiding himself better than anyone I’ve ever met letting his well-kept guard down around me when we’re all alone in the woods again makes me feel all-powerful, like he’s under a spell I had no idea I was casting.
Not only does it make me feel safer than I’ve felt in a long time, it’s hot.
Searingly hot. Putting an arm around his hips, I stretch my body out on the cushion where I was sitting so I have a better angle to go down on him.
Once I’m adjusted, I don’t even need to use my hand on him.
He’s hard as a fucking pole, pointing straight to the upper deck.
He’s got one of those heavy cocks that probably can’t get any higher than horizontal, but even without gravity pulling it down, he’s sitting at the perfect angle for me not to have to do anything too acrobatic to suck him.
And I do suck him in slow, wet, hard pulls that have him moaning with every breath.
His hands are fisted against his cushion, and I grab one of his wrists, putting his hand against my hair. He tries sliding it down to my neck, but I put it back where I want it. I want him to touch me, but only the way I want to be touched.
“Sullivan,” he whispers helplessly.
As much as I’d be absolutely down with Knight Winters fucking the hell out of my throat until I’m choking and gagging and sore, I’m not sure he’s got it in him to do it.
He does, however, thread his fingers through my hair and grip my head lightly.
I take that opportunity to shove my hand up his shirt and feel the star quarterback’s abs.
I know without a doubt he’d let me touch him anywhere I want.
I slide my lips up and down his now slick cock, flicking my gaze up to look at him.
He’s in some other world, his head tipped back, tears shimmering on his cheeks, biting his lip to death.
I lick my way up and engulf him whole again.
It’s not a lie to say I’ve dreamt about this.
Visualized it. And tonight it feels like I’ve been practicing because swallowing him is almost nothing.
Holding him in my throat for a few seconds while it spasms around him has him gasping.
Nothing against Chelsea. I like her a lot, but she doesn’t have a dick, and she’s not here. And if I can’t pin her down and fuck her until I feel like I’m back in control of my life again, then I’ll take this as often as Knight will let me have it.
“I’m gonna come,” he whines. “I’m gonna fucking come.”
He’s already coming. There’s a deep vibration beneath my hand resting low on his abdomen, and his cock jerks in my mouth.
I suck my lips up to his cockhead and lick at the cum shooting out.
His fingertips massage my scalp rhythmically as his rapid breaths unsettle the air above us.
I linger awhile until his legs start to tense and move like he can barely stand it any longer.
I flip over, resting my head on his thigh. I look beyond his impressive cock and up at his face.
He wipes his cheeks before he runs his hands over his head.
He has a ton of hair, but he keeps it very short.
It suits him, though. His persistent facial scruff makes him look older than he is, but to me, all I see is the opposite of Adrian in every way, and it’s a visual I gladly drink in to replace all the rest of the shit in my head that’s trying to crowd out better thoughts.
Eventually Knight lowers his gaze, his head tilting slightly to match the angle of mine. His gaze sweeps down my face to my torso, to the achy bulge behind my pants.
He lifts his hand, but I grab it before he can touch my dick and put it firmly on my chest.
“Why not?” he asks quietly.
“Because I can take care of that myself.”
“What if I want to?”
“What if I don’t want you to?”
A frown creases his forehead, and his Adam’s apple bobs. “Okay.”
I tsk. “Don’t look so sad, champ. Do you want to watch?”
I know he’ll say yes, so I’m already unfastening the waistband. I keep my eyes on his face as I reveal my own erection, just as hard as his was.
“Jesus,” he whispers.
I laugh lightly at the muted awe and the slight widening of his eyes as he takes in my long dick. “Okay, so we have one thing in common.”
He licks his lips. Maybe his mouth waters the way mine does when I think about his. “Why don’t you want me to touch?”
I stroke my cock sending pleasure coursing through every vein.
I release a puff of air and try not to get too dramatic about it, but it’s ten times better with him watching.
Within seconds I’m breathing as heavy as he still is, and I’m closer than I thought.
“Nothing personal,” I tell him in answer to his question.
I press my hand down harder onto his putting more pressure on my chest. “You can touch me here.”
He does, sliding his hand over my pec and brushing his thumb back and forth over my hardened nipple, which feels fucking great, too.
I squeeze the base of my cock, trying not to blow as fast as he did. No shade to him, though. I was as relentless as I knew I could be. Although, I’m pretty sure I could have described a blow job to him in this state and gotten him to come in his pants.
“Do you jerk off a lot?” I ask, while I work on recalibrating my level of arousal.
He takes his eyes off my cock and turns to my face. “Yeah. I mean…a normal amount for a single person, probably.”
“How many times a day?”
“Once or twice.”
Seems pretty normal for a guy. “You find that satisfying?”
“It has to be.”
“Not really, Knight. You’ve got options.
” I gesture at myself as an example, but it’s more a theoretical example as in “look at me here right now—this is the kind of thing that can happen to you if you hang out with the right people.” Not as in I’m an option, although I realize it’s a subtle distinction in our situation.
“You have a girlfriend.”
“Right, well, I didn’t mean me, exactly.”
“Then what is this?”
“This is summer.”
“Okay…” His thumb stills and our gazes lock for a heavy moment.
I get back to jerking off, needing to stay in control of this detour my day took.
His hand moves up to my neck. There’s a not insignificant part of me that wants him to squeeze, but I don’t ask him to, and I don’t expect him to.
He’s soft, this tall, hard-all-over young man who can take a hit from a three-hundred pound dude and probably not even break a sweat.
He’s like cotton candy on the inside. A sugary sweet, gay, golden boy with sad eyes and a perfect dick.
And if he’s not really like that, then I don’t want to know about it.
His hand on my neck? I think he just wants to touch my skin. If I ever do this with him again, I’ll have to remember to take off my shirt. Give the poor guy something. Not much, given the pitiful state of my body, but I don’t think he’ll mind so long as at least one of our dicks is involved.
Fuck, just thinking about a next time—the idea of getting that cock into my mouth again and tasting him is enough to bring me right to the edge. I glance from his face down to my hand, shuttling it back and forth over my length in much quicker moves.
My breath punches out of me in short bursts, my abs contracting as my hips decide they want to put on a show.
“Jesus,” Knight whispers.
The awe in his voice and the rise of his own dick in my periphery is enough to set off my orgasm.
“Oh, fuck that’s good,” I say as the wave crests just before my dick erupts.
I cover the head, catching the cum as it shoots out with a half dozen mini contractions that have my nerves singing with relief.
I lie there for a moment, limp, in a semi-altered state of consciousness, the whole world a little blurrier.
A little better. And then, when I can move and remember what I was picturing when I came, I turn, taking his brand new erection into my mouth and holding my hand up to his lips.
As his fingers wrap around my wrist, and his tongue meets my cum-covered palm, he groans like it’s his first taste of water after a full marathon.
He comes fast the second time, too, and I’m semi-hard again, but I ignore it because I’m capable of that. When he says he wants to kiss me after all that, though, I’m not sure how to handle it.
There’s the should I, and there’s the do I want to?
I shouldn’t, but the more important question is do I want to, and the answer to that turns out to be yes. I really do want to.
I grab hold of his shoulders and drag myself up to straddle his lap. “This is summer fun, okay? We both know it can’t be any more than that.”
He nods, gaze fixed on my mouth, and fuck, that’s hot, too.
He wants this so much he might as well be shouting it, but he contains himself, telegraphing his need through the pressure of his fingers on my hips and the quickness of his breath.
I make the move, pressing my lips to his gently because I’m not sure how involved he wants to get with this part.
It turns out, very.