And he tasted divine.
Like spearmint and coconut water of all things.
I savored him like I would a fine wine, supping from him rather than chugging it back like I would a shot of tequila, because that was who he was.
A Chilean Médoc.
A sweet, sweet Auckland Merlot.
His hands moved to my shoulders, and he kneaded me there before slipping down, grabbing my ass and holding me tightly. His cock was so big and so perfect against me, and all I could think of was last night and my need for him to pin me to the bloody glass and do as he had back in VICE—fuck me.
For the first time, my liberation in the dark rooms felt sordid.
While this?
This was freedom.
He made the tiniest sound in his throat before he pushed me into the window. The second my back collided with the hot glass, he was there, a harder, more pressurized presence. I felt like I was being branded, felt as if he was hotter even than the window, and I was being roasted on both sides.
I tugged at his hair, unable to stop myself from drowning in him as I thrust my tongue along his. The flavor of him was like champagne, utterly effervescent, so that I felt as if I was fucking flying with the sun on my back, and the wind in my goddamn hair.
This was a kiss they wrote about in books.
This was a connection they tried to replicate in movies—a foot-popping kiss.
And it was with a one-night stand. An employee. Hell, not even that. An intern.
The thought shuddered through me and I pulled back, gasping, panting, but he chased me down. He didn’t let me go. Wouldn’t let me stop. He didn’t force this on me, just moved where I went, taking my air from me so I was overwhelmed with him, with his kiss, the slant of his mouth, the way his tongue flicked mine, how he tasted me and savored me. In seconds, my brain forgot again who I was, what he was, and I tightened my hands in his hair as I began to thrust my hips, dragging my aching dick between us. The need to feel him against me was paramount, and like he knew, he arched his back, creating space for his hands and then he was there.
Dragging down my zipper.
Dragging down his.
And his dick was wet. Slick with pre-cum.
I almost shuddered as he ate at my mouth, nipping and biting and licking as he grabbed our cocks and rubbed them together. I’d never done this before, knew it had a name that began with ‘f’, just knew it wasn’t fucking, but it felt phenomenal.
Every inch of him caressed every inch of mine. The veins that roped our shafts, the throbbing pulse, the rounded tip of the glans, the shiny flesh… all of it was enhanced by the glorious sensation of slickness that let us grind together.
I pumped my hips at the same time as he did, his hands making a fist for us to thrust between, to savor and to endure.
A sharp cry escaped me, choked out between kisses, and he was there, taking it from me, before he wasn’t there at all. His hands left me, his dick moved away, and as I stood there, dazed and shocked, wondering what the fuck was going on, he dropped to his knees. No artifice about him, no shyness, just need, and he grabbed my cock, swallowing it between his lips. His eyes were closed, the lids flickering as if even his nerves there were being pleasured, and his head bobbed as he moved back and forth, soft groans escaping him that caressed my shaft with the tiniest of earth-shattering vibrations.
I stared down at him with wide eyes, unable to comprehend how the situation had derailed so much as he swallowed around my tip. A wobbly cry escaped me and I shoved my fist against my mouth to silence the sound while, with the other, I reached down and pressed a finger to his lips that were tightly packed with me.
Groaning as I shoved at the corner, as I pushed the tip against the stretched flesh, my nostrils flared as I felt the saliva coating me, thick swathes of it that he used to his advantage.
So did I.
After pulling my balls out from my zipper, I gathered his saliva in my fist, then reached down and coated them in it. As I ground them against each other, he moved faster, and his cheeks tunneled in all the way.
I came.
I couldn’t stop myself.
Could no more prevent it than I could stop the moon from shining every bloody night.
Leaving his dirty, dirty mouth alone, my head rocked back against the window with a clunk, and I didn’t care, experienced nothing but the sweet bliss of release with the heat on my back, the sun on my head, and his mouth around me.
I felt him swallowing my cum down, taking all I had to goddamn give, and as the sweetness of relief hit me, regret did too. Because this was dumb. This was so fucking dumb. And I was more than just halfway down the rabbit hole, I was into Narnia itself, having bypassed the LSD and the wardrobe. And yes, I knew I was mixing stories, but that was how deep into the land of fiction I’d gone.
The worst thing of all?
I couldn’t stop.
He was... Goddamnit. He was so pretty as he stared up at me, licking me clean, moving his mouth around me, and doing as he had last night—kissing the tip as he let go of me.
How the fuck was I supposed to keep my defenses high against that?
How was I supposed to—
Jesus.
If he’d done anything but that, I could have backed off. Been a douche. Could have zipped up and zipped out—as it were.
Instead, I reached down and cupped his chin.
“What the fuck am I going to do with you?” I whispered huskily, unaware that I was looking at him like he was a candy store and I was the child of a mother who believed sugary treats came in the form of applesauce. Unaware that the perennial shadows in my eyes had lightened some as I stared down at this beautiful, beautiful man who made me want shit I’d never even thought about outside of at night.
My thumb rubbed over his chin, smoothing along his jaw, to his lips, those pouty lips that were heaven and hell in a vicious circle that would always mean my death knell, and I came to a decision…
Six
Micah
My cock ached.
My throat felt deliciously used.
And everything inside me was tossed into a turbulent sea as I stared up at him.
Devlin Astley.
Nothing about this had gone how I imagined.
I’d thought about being ‘told off,’ either that or told to keep my mouth shut about last night. I’d thought a thousand things, but I’d never envisioned dropping to my knees for him.
The taste of him was salty sweet, stronger than mine, but then, everything about him seemed super-charged. Maybe it fit that his cum was too?
The thought had my lips twitching into a small smile as I tilted my head to the side, letting the hand that was cupping my chin take some of the weight.
I needed more. Needed to come. But I needed something else first. Something I couldn’t begin to describe because I didn’t know what it was. Just knew that the swipe of his thumb against my cheek felt a mixture of tender and of bewildered. Tender from the gentle touch, bewildered from his expression of outright confusion.
He was being kind to me. Kind even though he was perplexed, and I couldn’t blame him.
Everything I’d found on him this morning, every single Google hit had indicated he was a player. That was a truth Sadie had confirmed. Buying off his girlfriends to get rid of them easily spoke exactly of who the man was. And with looks like his, and as he’d said, a bank balance like his, it fit. Especially in this city.