14. Knight #2
We’re in the upstairs media room where there’s carpet and blackout shades.
It’s where we decided to blow up the air mattress after checking out the rest of the house.
It’s got these cool foot lights along the baseboards and a wet bar where we put all our food and drinks.
Sullivan’s instruments remain downstairs.
We never got around to checking out the acoustics.
He started undoing my drawstring pants the second the mattress was inflated, and I had to shove him off to pour us both some shots.
We’re on shot number three when he brings all this up. I’m looking him up and down because there are about a million things I want to do with him, but probably more than anything—“I want to suck your dick.”
He grimaces. “I knew you were gonna say that.”
“That’s a no?”
“No, I want you to.”
My eyebrows must jump to my hairline. “Since when?”
He pours another shot of tequila for himself. “Since I found out summer’s fucking over.” Grimly, he downs his drink and looks at me with weary eyes.
“I mean…don’t do me any favors.”
He puts his hand on my cheek and gets closer to me. “You’d be doing me a favor. That’s how sucking cock works.”
“You act like you enjoy it when you do it.”
“Oh, I do. I think you will, too. It’s a win-win.”
“What’s going on with you?” I ask, buzzed enough to ask without any second guesses.
“I told you I trust you, right? Like we had that whole conversation on the balcony. Didn’t we?”
I nod.
His face draws closer to mine. “You don’t need to know everything, do you? I’ll tell you if I have to, but I really don’t want to have to.”
“Does that mean you’re keeping secrets?”
“Just one. Just like you do.”
“But you know my secret,” I say quietly, my dick growing hard from how close he is. The heat of his breath on my mouth.
He swallows hard. I was wrong. The look in his eyes isn’t weary. Now that he’s closer, I’d call it haunted. “I don’t want you to hate me,” he says.
I decide I don’t want to know his secret. “So, I get to touch you?”
He nods, his thumb gliding back and forth over my cheekbone, his gaze dropping to my mouth.
“Anywhere I want?”
“Everywhere,” he whispers.
“You’re so fucking confusing.”
A self-deprecating huff of a laugh escapes him. “Only because I’m so fucking confused.”
“Then maybe we shouldn’t—”
“Not about this,” he says. His lashes graze my stubble when he whispers, “Touch me. Suck me. Fuck me.”
My dick surges upward in my pants, and I grab him by the back of the neck, slamming our mouths together.
His arms wrap around me, and his lips open, his tongue shooting out to meet mine—full contact.
Both our heads slant in opposite directions, deepening the kiss as my heart pounds brutally in my chest.
As we kiss and kiss, I test this offer he’s made, moving my hands down his back to settle on his hips where I get a firm grip.
He rolls his crotch against mine while he feeds me a low groan.
Do I know what I’m doing? No. But I can’t say I’m worried about it.
If we’re never gonna get together again after this, it doesn’t matter if he doesn’t like the way I suck him or handle him.
He’s giving the impression he’ll tolerate anything tonight.
There’s something off about it for sure, but I think he’ll be more pissed at me if we don’t go through with this than if we do.
There’s an urgency in his kiss and his grasp I haven’t felt before.
He needs this. Maybe his reasoning is fucked up, but I’d rather support him than make him doubt himself.
And yeah, I wanna do all the other things he mentioned, too.
Together we stumble toward the air mattress, letting go of each other long enough to strip naked.
The sight of all his long lines and his thick, jutting cock causes a spurt of precum to spill from my dick right after I pull down my pants.
I lick my lips as he lies back on the mattress and take a moment to appreciate the hair that’s grown back on his legs and the fact that he’s kept his balls baby smooth.
He is so goddamn beautiful, and I seriously think he’s got no idea.
Because he still says stupid shit like, “You don’t have to.”
A flush covers his entire body, deepening as I stare down at him.
I shake my head slightly. “You say the word if you want me to stop.”
He lifts a hand like he wants me to take hold of it, but I just give it a squeeze before lowering myself to all fours and making a space for myself between his legs.
Hunger as strong as starvation consumes me as I wrap my arms beneath his thighs and lower myself onto my belly.
I lick a line from his balls all the way up his dick before he grabs me by the head and gasps my name.
I glance up at him, at his hooded eyes and his wet, parted lips.
His chest heaves with deep breaths. His abs are so tense I could use them as a trampoline.
He nods, whispering, “Okay, okay.” Getting one of my arms back, I angle the crown of his cock to my lips.
I lick at the slit, tasting his precum. It’s like the single drip of nectar from a honeysuckle bloom.
I lick it again, squeezing his cock like I can make more come out.
He lets out a shout of surprise as his hips buck off the mattress, and then I just—fucking lose myself.
I wrap my lips around his dick and start sucking.
He tastes like summer sweat and clean skin.
Warm vanilla and white musk. Like Sullivan.
He moves, and I move, somehow agreeing on a pace where he fucks my mouth, and I meet him thrust for thrust. I say I lose myself because more than once, I let him go way too far, too into the motion and the feel of his cock filling my mouth that I cough and gag around him, but I don’t ever stop. I barely even remember to breathe.
I feel fucking possessed as we engage in this filthy, carnal act that feels like so much more than a blow job. He whimpers and groans while I try not to choke, often failing, but still never stopping. Eventually my throat gives up trying to resist, and then it gets unbelievably intense.
With my face buried between his abs and his cock, he’s nudging deep then deeper still. His sounds have gone low and guttural. “Fuck, Knight…fuck. Fuck. Christ that feels so fucking good. Oh my god. Shit. I’m gonna fucking come. Oh god. Oh my fucking god. Don’t stop.”
It’s not really about me stopping, though. We’re both still in a rhythm. He thrusts, and I advance. He lodges deep, and I lick, groping him with my lips, cheeks hollowed so I can feel every inch of his girth as it stretches me open, and I apply a pulsing suction.
I’m lightheaded, seeing stars as he cries out, his body jerking hard. Heat slides down my throat, and his leg tenses around my back. I swallow his cock, his cum, even as my vision blackens at the edges and static fills my head.
When my survival mechanism kicks in, I shove away from him, gasping and drooling. His cock lands with a wet slap against his abs. I try to remember how to breathe.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” I hear him say. “That’s how you give head?”
I push myself up onto my hands and knees again, then sit back on my heels, my mind fumbling around for an answer to his question. “Are you pissed?” I can’t a hundred percent tell, but it sounds like he might be pissed.
“No, but shit. I was not expecting that.”
Aside from the buzz I’ve still very much got, everything else is clearing up as oxygen makes its triumphant return to my blood stream. “I thought it was pretty good.”
“It was fucking amazing. Jesus. How’d you even know to do that?”
“It wasn’t just me.”
Our eyes meet, and neither of us says anything for a long moment.
And then he smiles. “Fair enough. Now come back here and finish what you started.”