His hips bucked each time my lips lingered on the head of his cock, so I turned my attention to that area, sucking just the top while using my hand below. The faster I bobbed him in and out of my mouth, the louder he whimpered, so I did it as rhythmically as I could, for as long as I could, ignoring my tingling lips and aching neck.
“Fuck, fuck, I’m gonna blow soon,” he shouted, and I discovered my body liked that idea a whole fucking lot when my cock spasmed against the mattress.
“Do it,” I said, releasing his dick just long enough to say the words before sucking him in hard, gripping his shaft and rubbing the head against my tongue. When I deemed to get creative and swirl my tongue around the slick, fleshy dome in my mouth, his fingers tugged handfuls of my hair, and his high-pitched whimpers became a deep, prolonged cry.
The moment I tasted the first gush, I tightened my mouth, letting him use it as a sheath while he pumped his hips, repeatedly hitting the back of my throat. His hoarse cry ceased as he peaked, then a long, stuttered breath left him before his body relaxed on the mattress.
I wiped my mouth and stared up at him, thinking he’d never looked sexier, flushed and sweaty with one arm draped across his forehead. His chest rose and fell with each breath, and I smoothed my hands up over his chest, climbing the mattress and kissing his chin. “You okay?”
He grinned and removed his arm from his forehead. “Roll over.”
My dick was painfully hard and slick in my pajama pants, but I didn’t want him to feel like he had to do anything about it, because making him come with my mouth was already so fucking satisfying, I was willing to put my own release aside. “You don’t have to do anything.”
Shoving me to the side, he kicked off the pants still bunched around his ankles, leaving him completely naked. I stared in awe at his bare body, strong, bulging quad muscles, the cut of his hips above his softening cock. “You look like a dream,” I said, my voice drowsy with arousal.
“You’re wide awake.” He tugged my PJ pants off, and I thought he was gonna go down on me, but instead he lifted a leg and straddled me. On his knees astride my hips, he took my cock in hand, damp curls hanging over his eyes, and said, “Pretend you’re fucking me.”
“Jesus Christ!” I shouted as his fist became a blur on my cock.
“Yeah, just like that.” He hovered right over my groin, leg muscles flexing as he lifted himself up and down while he stroked my dick with such skill my eyes tried to roll back. But I didn’t want to miss a second of this visual, so I struggled to keep my gaze on him. “That’s it,” he purred. “Imagine your cock inside me right now. Imagine I’m riding you and you’re about to come in my—”
“Fuck!” My orgasm blasted through me. I wouldn’t have been surprised if my release hit the ceiling, but as it was, the stream arched up and splashed onto my stomach, the speed of Orion’s strokes increasing, then gradually slowing as it ebbed. “Fuck,” I whispered. My hands went to my face, covering my eyes. “Fuck,” I said one last time, hearing Orion chuckle above me.
“Effective, was it?” Sheets rustled and then his warm body was snuggled against mine, damp hair brushing my chest where he rested his head.
“Effective, yeah. That’s one word for it.” I slid an arm around him and stroked his hair. “I told you you’d ruin me. Now you thoroughly have.”
He wriggled tighter into my side, one leg wrapping over both of mine. “And I told you I’m never gonna do nothing bad to you. Only good stuff.”
“Good stuff like that? Not sure my heart can take it.”
“Well, if you don’t want to ever do it again…”
“Oh I want to,” I said, and he laughed. “Shit yeah, I want more of that. Presuming I recover.”
His fingers trailed over my chest and stomach. “Lots more of that,” he said softly. “Any time you want.”
My heart was finally slowing to a normal rate, but still thumping hard against my chest. Sexual relations with a stupidly fit dancer ten years my junior would do that, I supposed. As I drifted into oblivion, I decided my father was right about something.
I was going to have to start working out.
Chapter Twenty-One
Having been raised by Marshal Jasper Varley, you’d imagine I’d be comfortable hanging out with a cop. But our night was only just getting started, and already my old friend Paul Bassock was making me uncomfortable. He picked me up in the late afternoon, as we’d decided to play a round of golf before grabbing an early dinner at a clam shack. That way we could just kick back and enjoy drinks at Hillock Beach Club.
Paul ran red lights. He drove way too fast. Took shortcuts down one-way streets. He parked wherever the hell he wanted, including on sidewalks. The owner of the golf club insisted he wouldn’t take any money, and after a half-hearted attempt at refusal on Paul’s part, we golfed for free. At the clam shack, when the owner said the food was on the house for us, he accepted. When I tried to insist on paying, Paul stopped me, saying, “Don’t worry about it, Varley, it’s on me.” I slipped a twenty-dollar bill in the tip jar when he wasn’t looking.
I hoped maybe he was just trying to show off, and this wasn’t how he usually operated. But despite all this, I was having a good time, laughing a lot and reminiscing about the old days. Now we were on our way down to the Beach Club, driving alongside the boardwalk as the sun hung low and orange over a calm, glassy sea. It had been a beautiful warm day, and was looking to be a gorgeous night, which pleased me immeasurably, because I was worried about rain canceling the fire dancers. Orion seemed excited about me coming to see him dance, and I was looking forward to it—almost as much as I looked forward to seeing him gyrating naked on top of me again.
I’d loved waking up with him and spending time together this morning, even as he laughed at my bathrobe and slippers, calling them ‘suburban dad chic’ and teasing me about snoring. We showered first thing, and that led to a long bout of deep, passionate kissing, and ultimately climaxing together as I pressed him against the tiled wall and he stroked us both simultaneously in his fist. I’d thought after thirty-six years of life that I knew my own body pretty damn well, and that no one could jerk me off as skillfully as…well, me. But Orion had talent.
Then he’d had to leave very early to ‘take care of some things’ which in Orion-speak could mean anything from Jasper errands to psychic readings to a gift-shop shift to filling in at the amusement park. The guy was constantly working, and I admired his ambition while envying his energy. Before I sold my half of the business, I used to spend every day doing hard manual labor, and yet I’d felt more lethargic the past year than I ever did when I was full time. My nanna used to claim idle hands did the devil’s work, but I wasn’t too worried about Satan coming after my lazy ass.
I insisted on feeding Orion a bagel before he left my house, and we’d had coffee while I showed him the words from the anonymous texts that disappeared when my phone battery died. Orion wasn’t sure about my suspicions regarding ghost-texting, but assured me he’d speak to Chapel about it. I’d asked him, “Do you think this might have something to do with you? Your past? With liars, thieves, and ‘rig’ I couldn’t help remembering all you told me, including your late father owning a gambling hall.”