“I don’t blame you,” I said, grunting after I got the words out.
“You don’t have to. I blame myself.”
“If you’re going to all this effort with me out of guilt, then just fuck off, Devlin. I don’t need that from you,” I snarled, glowering like I hated him when that was the last thing I felt for him. “If you brought me here for that, then you can arrange for a flight back to the States—”
He narrowed his eyes at me, and for the first time, I knew I’d pricked his temper. “I brought you here because I’m here. We already discussed this.”
“There’s plenty we haven’t discussed,” I grated out.
His answer was a shrug.
Brow furrowing, I snapped, “Don’t go quiet on me now, Devlin. I get that I make you tongue tied, but you need to get over it. You’re a fucking CEO, and you have thousands of members of staff around the world. I can’t be the reason you fumble over your words.”
His temper died so swiftly it gave me whiplash, then he just smiled at me. “One day, you’ll understand why you were the only person who’d ever make me fumble over my words, but that’s okay. We have plenty of time.”
I scowled at him. “What are you talking about?”
He didn’t reply.
Or, he did, just not verbally.
Swallowing nervously as he strode forward, as confident as he claimed he wasn’t, self-assured though he said he wasn’t around me, and dropped to his knees.
My entire being tensed as he pressed a kiss to the tip of my dick, before he opened his lips and started to tongue my glans, tasting my pre-cum with a moan as he began tracing my length, getting me wet with his spit. Soft groans escaped him like he was pleasuring himself and not me, and I could feel the quiver in my muscles as he gifted me this—himself.
Jaw clenching again, I tipped my head back when it was too painful to watch him, too agonizing to behold, too goddamn beautiful that it was the best eye-fuck going, then his hand grabbed my balls and he squeezed them in his palm.
A hiss escaped me as he timed that gentle squeeze with hard sucks, pulling motions that made my cock hard again, that made me feel as if my cum was boiling away inside me.
Al-fucking-ready.
I groaned, unable to contain it as my hands slid down to his hair. I ran my fingers through it, cupping his nape tightly, uncaring if it hurt him, just needing him to carry on. I fucked his face, but he somehow fucked me back. I didn’t get it, didn’t need to understand to feel the exquisite pleasure of being inside this man.
But... shit.
This wasn’t what I needed today.
I needed more.
Panting as, with a particularly hard suck that had my eyes rolling back in my head, I managed to grate out, “Get back on the bed, Devlin.”
He ignored me—of course—content to swallow me down like I was a fucking Slurpee, but I dragged him off me, wanting to whine with every inch that was revealed to the cold light of day when my cock was quite happy where it was.
“Bed. Now,” I growled, still panting hard as I watched those smoky eyes of his darken as he looked at me.
Smoothly, he got to his feet, then he fell back onto the bed. I’d expected him to bend over it, but he didn’t. He propped his feet on the edge of the mattress, then he let his knees fall apart.
In porn, I’d always thought this was the most vulnerable of positions, and it was something we’d never done together. That he was gifting me this, now, felt important. But my brain was too wild to really think about it. Instead, I stormed over to the nightstand and pulled out some lube from the drawer.
With it in my fist, I twisted to face him and it was my turn to drop to my knees. I buried my face in his ass, licking and tonguing the rosette, loving his groans of excitement and pleasure, needing more of it, needing more of him. I gave him me just like he was about to do—give me all of him.
As I tormented him, I poured some lube into my palm and gripped my dick, rubbing it everywhere until I was slick with it. I carried on until my hips were jerking with the need to fuck, and I jumped up, rubbing my fingers over his pucker, sliding them in as I squirted more lube everywhere before I tossed the bottle on the covers.
Pressing my dick to his ass, I watched as he swallowed me whole. My cock a reddish purple, his there, his balls tight and hard, his shaft throbbing against his muscled abdomen.
It was a visual smorgasbord that he gave me, because when I was inside him, I could see every inch of him, feel it, and want more.
I grabbed one leg and pressed it to the bed, then raised the other, lifting it so that his calf rested against my chest.
The slight fur on his leg was a sensory delight against the side of my face when I rested it there, and with my spare hand, I reached down and grabbed his cock, slicking it up with the lube on my palm and his pre-cum which leaked copiously from his dick, making a mess on his stomach.
Again, the visuals—just, fuck.
Neither of us were particularly hairy, but Devlin had a little more on his chest thanks to his coloring. He was so beautiful at that moment, his eyes on mine, fixed there like we were superglued together. I almost wished we were.
As my cock found its home again, I had no thoughts of pain, or of confusion, or bewildering drug-induced fear.
I only saw him and felt him.
He was all I needed. All I wanted.
Tears wet my eyes, but I moved past it. Past the emotional onto the physical.
Slowly, I made love with him. Preferring to be tender now instead of rough like before.
I jacked him off as I began to rock my hips, slowly gifting us both one another, taking us up the peak to a pleasure I just knew we’d only ever find together.
His cock throbbed in my hand, his ass clenching down against me every time I rubbed his prostate until I had no alternative but to move faster, to take more, to give more. His grunts were like music to my ears, his hard breathing chimed with my own, my groans added to the symphony, his cries of ecstasy were like an aria in the middle of an opera.
He tensed up, and that was all the warning I had as his cock spurted cum onto his abs. Hard and fast, thick and wet, it poured out of him, agonized groans spilling free from him at the same time as his head rocked back, throat arching, sinews clearly visible as the pleasure of the moment was clearly painful for him.
As he came back down, his ass clenching around me rhythmically, his eyelids were almost closed as he watched me, and that was why I’d held off from coming.
For this.
I knew he loved this shit, knew it and wanted him to be happy with me, to give him everything he craved.
My fingers dabbed his cum like it was finger-paint, and I swirled it around his upper abdomen, moving it up to his pecs, before I loomed over him, my cock pushing in so deep he let out a sharp cry, and I started to lap up his seed.
He groaned, long and low, his hands coming up to grab my hair, to hold it taut in his grip, to maneuver me around.
Between us, his cock hardened again, and though I smiled, he rasped, “I’m too fucking old to be this hard again.”
I snorted, unable to help myself, and carried on lapping, tasting him, tasting the only cum I ever wanted to taste again for the rest of my fucking life.
I didn’t care that he was my first. I just wanted him to be my only.
His hands dug into my hair, to the point of pain, and I knew why. He guided me higher, not stopping until my lips surged over his throat and up to his.