He’s slurping and choking on my cock, his face is red, and he looks fucking wrecked. Ididthat. Me. I’m the cause of this neat and tidy man losing his control and not being able to contain himself.
He chokes on my cock one last time, my tip hitting the back of his throat while he swallows around my length.
I break, my vision whiting out while I spill into his mouth. He sucks me dry, until the aftershocks of pleasure turn into pain and he backs off, licking his lips and smiling like the cat who caught the canary.
“Good?”
“I think you sucked my brain right out of my dick.” His cackle is evil as he sits back on his heels and wipes at the corner of his mouth where a little bit of my cum escaped.
When I finally get my breathing under control, I press him down, his back hitting the cool hardwood beneath us. Hislaughter is infectious, but as soon as I get his pants down, his laughter stops. He watches me, propping himself up on his elbows while I work his thick cock into my mouth. He tastes like soap and skin, with a hint of sweat. I could get drunk off the taste of him alone, sucking him down and waiting for him to reward me with more.
Hunter cups the back of my head gently, guiding me up and down while he murmurs “look at you, sucking my cock so good.” I moan around him, the tip of his cock resting against my tongue, and I trace the hard ridge of his head.
I work overtime, my jaw aching with the effort to keep the tight suction, trying to keep my teeth tucked behind my lips, and making sure that it’s sloppy and wet just like the one he gave me.
I lift my eyes to meet his, the brown irises burrowing deep inside me and holding me hostage. “Look me in my eyes when you swallow my cum,” he demands, his hips thrusting more now, the tip of his dick gagging me on every pass, and I breathe through the urge to choke.
He moans, low and loud, as my mouth fills up with his release. I want to close my eyes and savor the feeling of him on my tongue and his cum in my mouth, but I don’t. So I hold his eyes as I gulp him down, pulling off when his body twitches and he makes a pained groan.
“Good?” I repeat his question, and he pulls me on top of him. I’m slightly bigger, so I worry about squishing him, but my worries are erased when he flips us over to lie on top of me. We lay there on the floor ofourcabin, loving the afterglow.
A great start to one long week that I plan to make perfect for him.
49
HUNTER
Inever want to leave this cabin. After Adam brought in all of our bags, I scavenged the pantry for food. It was fully stocked, with ingredients to cook with and loads of snack foods. The temptation to grab the box of honey buns and sit on the couch and watch crime documentaries with Adam was tempting, but we definitely need some substance after what we did. And I’ll have to keep his energy up so we can do that this whole trip.
My dick flexes in my shorts, ready to go again so soon. Who could blame me, though? When I pulled off his shorts and saw how high up his tattoos really went, that was a turn-on all on its own. So slutty, in a good way. Now, I need to get him in a Speedo on the boat that he mentioned so I can see how slutty he really looks with just a thin piece of material covering his cock.
Nope. Not the time. Food first, dick musings later. My stomach rumbles in agreement.
I pull out the ingredients to make pasta, a quick and easy meal that doesn’t require much thought or effort.
Adam comes down the stairs, a fine sheen of sweat covering his face, his skin flushed pink. He’s gorgeous, and I still can’t believe that he chose me.
I’m measuring out the noodles for two servings when he comes up behind me and wraps me in his arms, his front pressed against my back. His dick is carefully wedged in the crack of my ass, and I have to repress my shudder.
“Whatcha doing?” he asks, resting his chin on my shoulder and watching me sort the spaghetti noodles so they’re all the same length in my hand.
“Trying to figure out how many noodles we need. How hungry are you?” I eyeball the portion in my hand. I’m the world’s worst at guessing how much pasta to make, it ends up barely being enough for me or enough to fill the bellies of every person in a one-hundred-mile radius. There’s no in-between.
“Ravenous,” he says, nibbling on the skin of my collarbone.
“Save it for the spaghetti then, you cannibal.” He chuckles but doesn’t stop his mouth from wandering, and he’s making it really hard to focus.
“It’s your fault if we end up eating pasta this whole trip,” I snidely remark. Carefully placing the noodles in the boiling water on the stove, Adam moves with me and stays glued to my back.
“That’s fine by me.” And that’s how I cook the whole meal, with a koala glued to my back, asking me questions as I cook. It’s nice and intimate. Being this close to someone and just being able to talk to them, like we used to do.
When I plate up the pasta and pour us each a glass of wine, Adam carries our plates to the glass dinner table in the dining room. A chandelier hangs down from the center, the sunset glinting off the crystals and creating rainbow patterns across the room. Adam pulls out a chair for me in the middle, the plush velvet seat more comfortable than I was expecting. He sits downnext to me, eating and telling me about what he has planned for this week.
“There’s the boat, we could do a full day of cruising across the lake. We’re the only ones out here, so we don’t have to worry about bathing suits.” He wiggles his eyebrows, and I have to bite back my smile.
“That sounds nice. I would prefer not to have tan lines,” I tease him back, and his eyes heat, tracking over my body. “Finish your food, quit trying to tempt me with thosefuck meeyes.”
“Oh! Shit. I forgot something.” Adam scoots back from the table and sprints into the kitchen. I hear a door shut, and the oven turns on. I patiently wait for him to come back to tell me what exactly it was that he forgot.
