“Beautiful,” he whispered, and cradled my balls as he licked from the base to the tip of my cock. He kept talking, and praising, and telling me that I was too much for others, and that he wanted me himself, and then, I couldn’t hear him at all as I was moaning and writhing, and when he swallowed me whole, I shoved away the horns and gripped his short dark hair, holding him still so I could get my head straight, then releasing a little as he slid his fingers to my ass, one tapping my hole, his lips and tongue hot.
“Close,” I warned.
He groaned around my cock, and it was game over as he swallowed everything I gave him. I scrabbled to hold on, lost in my orgasm, aware he was still holding me in place, one hand on my chest, the other pulling his cock out, getting himself off as he kissed me.
“Fuck,” he leaned on me where I could feel his hand stripping his cock, and then he was arching and coming, then stumbling away, his back hitting the far wall.
He waited, breathing heavy. I tossed him a towel, which he caught in midair with his mad reflexes. He tucked himself away, but I didn’t move to do the same—it had taken oil to get me in these pants and I wasn’t sure I’d get them up again.
“Hi?” I was saying hello, but it was also a question, and he raised an eyebrow, his breathing ragged.
“Hi?” he repeated. “You’re in here wearing bondage gear and literally nothing else, and that’s all you have to say.”
“It’s not bondage.” I peered at the harness. “At least I don’t think it is.” I swirled my cloak a little, the material brushing my naked ass. “I have this.”
He stalked over to me, kissing me as he unbuckled the harness holding the voluminous mass of scarlet material and let it slip to the floor. Then, he picked up the T-shirt, taking his time pulling it over my head, careful not to touch the hair, then lifting the mass of twisted blond wig out of the way and smoothing the dark cotton over my chest. He examined the harness, buckled it, clipped the cloak, and stepped back. I wiped cold cum from my skin then inched up the leather pants until they were at least over my hips. I was way too sensitive to tuck my cock back in, and I sent him a rueful smile.
“We probably need to wait.”
“You’re so beautiful,” he muttered. He stepped into my space, helping me close the fastener on the pants, smoothing my cloak. “I don’t want to share with the rest of my team.” He rested his forehead on mine. “Some of the team would have eaten you alive, not to mention anyone else that got to see all that skin, you should have a warning tattooed on you.”
“Um, thank you?”
“Shit.” He stepped back again, and even though I tried to reach for him, he avoided me as if he were on the ice, smooth and fast and untouchable. “I just went all beast mode on you.”
“Yep.”
“I did that.” He waved at me, then at the hammer, which was now on the floor split in two. “And that.”
“It was great.”
“I don’t get territorial like that,” he half-whispered. “I’m sorry.”
Now it was my turn, and I crowded him against the wall, cupping his groin and pressing there. “Mine,” I muttered against his lips. “All mine.”
He groaned, I sagged, and we were kissing again, but this time it was lazy, changing the tempo, learning the things we liked, taking our time. His cell vibrating pulled us from the stupor of post-orgasm loving, and he pulled it out with a rueful smile as he read the message.
“We’re late,” he said, and kissed me again, slowing the licks and sucks until we just hugged. He was small in my arms, and he wasn’t a small man at all, he was strength and corded muscles, and he was all mine.
For the moment.
“So much for indestructible metal, forged in the heart of a dying star,” he muttered as he picked up the broken hammer where Styrofoam blocks from the interior had fallen out.
“Wait, what?”
He tried to slot the two main pieces together, then gave up and dropped them into the trash can.
“I might have this thing for super heroes,” he admitted with a grin. “And now, when I think of Thor, all I’ll see is you oily and shiny, half naked and wearing leather.”
That deserved another kiss, and I had words I wanted to say on the tip of my tongue.
That I liked superheroes.
And that when he’d sucked me off, it was clear he had a super-tongue.
But how awkward would that make me?
Way too awkward.
The house we pulled up at was an expanse of white, with a landscaped turning circle and probably a million gorgeous cars lined up. Cameron’s low-slung Porsche wasn’t out of place as he parked it next to a stunning scarlet Ferrari, which I stopped to admire after we climbed out.
“Nice.” I let out a low whistle and bent as much as I could in these unforgiving pants to check out the dash and the acres of butter-soft cream leather. “SF90 Spider,” I added and ran a hand gently over the paintwork.
“That’s Prez’s new baby.”
“Prez?”
“Brett Kennedy aka Prez; he’s a buddy, and all we heard two months back was the sad sorry story of how a bird pooped on the seat. If he corners you, ask him about it. Also, I’m warning you now, Charlie loves his movies, and I know he’s watched the Rapid movies, so I’m sorry in advance if he asks too many questions—”
“I can handle questions,” I interrupted.
He reached for me on instinct, then dropped his hand. “Buddies,” he muttered to remind himself. “No touching.” He leaned toward me, but not so close it would seem odd to anyone who cared to notice. “But I can still taste you on my tongue.”
“You can’t say things like that,” I whined. “My cock likes it too much, and these pants don’t stretch.”
He chuckled, then squared his shoulders as if he was going into battle. “So, yeah, this is Charlie’s place. He’s like the captain of the cheer team, always optimistic and talking the guys up. Good guy who loves hosting the big meet-ups, families, kids, the whole team. His brother is Zeetoo, adopted brothers before you ask, so they don’t look alike—he’s a big Harlequins fan.”
I stared at him blankly. “Harlequins?”
“Y’know, the LA Harlequins. Football. Funny-shaped balls.”
“Oh, yeah,” I felt foolish because even I had heard of the city’s much lauded football team.
“Oh, and Phillipe is our goalie, and he’s just this insane mess of nonsense at times, and comes off as grumpy, but he’s a teddy bear really and loves talking books.”
I parsed all the data. “Okay so Prez is cars. Zeetoo is a football fan, specifically Harlots.”
“Harlequins.”
“Sorry, Harlequins. Charlie movies. Phillipe is a grumpy teddy bear and likes books. Anyone would think you’re offering me conversation tips.” I was joking, but he regarded me with soft affection.
“I want you to enjoy this, and I thought some of that might help. I want you to meet my friends.” He smiled. “But not in a super creepy this-is-the-guy-I’m-messing-around-with kind of way, just in a…” He shrugged. “You know what I mean. Buddy.”