He reached up to pull my hand away, his gaze focused on my reflection. “Harder,” he whispered. “Fuck me.”
I nodded, grabbing hold of his shoulders as I rocked faster, sliding in and out of him. Our bodies slammed together, each jolt sending a ripple through his arse cheeks as we connected. The skin on his shoulders whitened where I dug my fingers in, snapping my hips forward with every thrust of my cock into him. Chandler stared at me, his eyes so wide, his lips parted but no words escaping, only harsh breaths.
He gripped the back of the chair with one hand, burying his fingers in the velvet’s pile, his free arm jerking as he worked his shaft. His body tightened around my dick, and the sensation propelled me closer to orgasm. Chandler shuddered, and I leaned over to watch the spatter of creamy cum against the deep red velvet, decorating it in a pattern of drops.
I kissed his neck, then whispered in his ear, “My turn.” Then it was back to moving inside him, a slow thrust, followed by an even slower withdrawal, gradually picking up speed, the friction deliciously exquisite.
“Come inside me,” Chandler gasped out, focused on our bodies moving together in the mirror. He pushed back harder, impaling himself on my shaft, nodding as I panted. I wrapped my arms around his torso and held on, my hips pumping, my dick filling him to the hilt, edging closer and closer.
And there it was, that electricity tingling through my balls and along my dick as I shot hard, groaning as Chandler tightened his body around my cock while it throbbed inside him. I held onto him, the pair of us shuddering, both covered in a sheen of perspiration, the air thick with the smell of sex and sweat.
Gingerly, I eased out of him, loving the sight of him expelling my cum from his body. I had to smile. “I guess it’s time to clean this chair.” I helped him to stand.
“I can do my bit.” Chandler bent over the chair and scooped up some of the cum with his fingers. He held them out to me, and I didn’t hesitate. I licked them clean, then sucked on them. Chandler’s breathing hitched. “Fuck. Are you trying to get me hard again?”
I smiled as I pulled his fingers free. “Why—is there somewhere you need to be tonight?”
He stilled. “What do you mean?”
I pulled him closer, until his chest was pressed against mine. “I mean, tomorrow is Saturday. So… why not stay here? That leaves us all night to get you hard over and over again.” I’d uttered the words in a teasing tone to hide what I knew to be true—I didn’t want Chandler to leave.
Chandler arched his eyebrows. “And how many times can you come in one night?”
I grinned. “Why don’t we find out?”
He bit his lip. “Does the offer to stay the night come with beer? It is Friday night, after all.”
I had a much better idea. “How does champagne sound?”
Chandler laughed. “You give me champagne, and I may never want to leave,” he joked.
I didn’t trust myself to speak. I’d just had the best sex ever, and my body was awash with endorphins. Who knew what would come out if I opened my mouth?
Because with one night, something had changed.
Chapter 8
Chandler
I opened my eyes, and for a moment I didn’t have a clue where I was. Then I remembered.
Stu’s place. Stu’s bed.
Stu lay beside me, still sleeping, his hair tousled, his back to me. The sheet was pushed down low, revealing the curve of his ass. An eminently fuckable ass.
I smiled to myself. Look but don’t touch, remember? That delectable ass was out of bounds. I crept out of bed and headed for his bathroom, aware of the acute need to pee. Once I’d relieved myself, I washed my hands, glancing in the mirror at my surroundings. As bathrooms went, it was pretty ordinary, except for the fact that there was no bath. Instead, glass screened off one end, behind which was a shower, complete with a tiled seat.
Oh baby. What I’d love to do to you in there.
I filled an empty glass with water and drank a couple of mouthfuls. I badly needed to brush my teeth. The last thing in my mouth had been Stu’s cum. I opened the cabinet below the sink and spotted several new toothbrushes. I helped myself to one.
Fuck it. I’ll buy him a new one to replace it.
Once my breath was minty fresh, I tiptoed back into the bedroom, to where Stu was sitting up in bed, the sheet rumpled around his hips. “Well, good morning.”
I lowered my gaze to where the head of his dick was visible above the sheet as he lazily tugged on it. “Looks like it could be a very good morning.”
Stu chuckled. “I thought you might like to start your day with some protein.”
Somehow I didn’t think he was talking about eggs for breakfast.
I climbed onto the foot of the bed and crawled slowly toward him. “Only if you want some too.”
His eyes lit up, and he pushed the sheets off him.
I laughed. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
You know how sometimes you kinda see things in slow motion? Like, you take a moment to stop and really take in what’s going on around you? Well, that was my Saturday morning. We lay on our sides, head to tail, enjoying each other, neither of us in any hurry, while sunlight spilled into the room, falling onto white sheets and reflecting on pale walls, the hum of traffic outside easy to ignore.
It was almost… magical, everything moving so leisurely, his hands on my body, my hands on his, and the scent and feel of him filling my senses. And when he reached for the lube without a word, I turned onto my belly, my ass tilted, legs spread wide, awaiting that glorious moment when his cock would slowly spear into me.
What made it heavenly? Stu’s arm around me as he languidly rocked into me, his lips on my neck as he kissed me there, before biting gently into my shoulder. His breathing was harsh as he neared orgasm, and by then I was on all fours, impaling myself on that thick dick, squeezing my body around it, milking the cum right out of him.
“Fuck, you feel so good,” he whispered as he shuddered through his climax, his cock throbbing inside me, my fingers wrapped around my own dick as I came over the sheet, my body trembling.
But I swear my heart fucking stuttered when he gently turned my face toward his and kissed me, his lips soft against mine.
This wasn’t fucking. Not even close. Because it felt for all the world like Stu Ganford was making love to me, and fuck, I wanted more.
Stu
By the time midday arrived, I couldn’t deny what was going on a moment longer.
Something momentous had occurred.
Maybe it was the unhurried, gloriously sensual sex. Maybe it was the easy way we laughed and joked, talking in bed like we were lovers. Maybe it was the way we couldn’t stop touching each other, even once we were clothed. Whatever it was, I knew how I felt.
I didn’t want Chandler to leave.
I told myself I was being ridiculous. We’d been fucking for a week, for Christ’s sake. It was just sex, right? Except I knew I was lying to myself.
Somehow, it had gotten to be way more than sex. But was it like that for Chandler too?
On an impulse, I suggested going out for lunch, and he agreed. I’d intended it to be a bite to eat somewhere local, but when we couldn’t decide on a location, I took control.
How we ended up at Joe’s American Bar & Grill, with what had to be one of the best views of Boston Harbor, I have no idea. We sat under a blue parasol, the sunlight glinting on the still water, while we ate crispy calamari to die for, followed by grilled chicken salad, and accompanied by a delicious bottle of chilled white wine. It should have been perfect. But if that were the case, why did I have knots in my stomach?