“Ah, a man who considers creature comforts—I knew I liked you for some reason.”
“The couch was made by a member of a tribe in the interior. Maude sourced everything ethically. I wouldn’t make the decision to buy a leather couch today, but the cow would’ve been slaughtered anyway for food—so this is a way to ensure nothing is wasted.” At least that’s how I justified it to myself. My sectional at home was faux leather, and that was just fine with me.
“Now is not the time to have a discussion about whether or not you’re vegetarian, and—”
“Yes, to both.” I grasped the button on my khakis and met his gaze.
“Oh yeah. I’m very much still interested.” He palmed his cock—still erect and still contained in the confines of his jeans. “Get comfortable.”
I undid the button, lowered the zip, and then let my khakis drop. I sat on the couch and adjusted my hips so my ass was barely on the blanket. Then I palmed my cock.
He hadn’t taken his eyes off me the entire time, and he grinned wolfishly. “Oh, this is going to be fun.”
My breathing shallowed as he placed himself between my spread thighs and gracefully dropped to his knees. He was still on his knees—as he would have been had I remained standing—but this felt less awkward. Plus, if my knees went a little weak during the orgasm he’d promised, I wasn’t going to pitch forward or backward. This just felt…more civilized.
Right up until he nudged my hand away from my shaft. He grasped the base and lowered his head.
The first touch of his tongue against my slit sent more of that electricity shooting through me.
He met my gaze again as he pulled my crown into his mouth.
Chills ran up and down my spine, and desire pooled low in my belly and lower still, in my cock. “Please.” Half whisper, half plea.
He winked. Then he drew me into his mouth and down his throat. I worried he might choke, but he clearly knew exactly what he was doing. He sucked hard, hollowing his cheeks, even as he maintained eye contact.
What does he see? My desperation? My desire? My loneliness?
All or perhaps none? Maybe he just saw a guy who really wanted a blow job. It’d been years, and I wasn’t going to think about that as he sucked me deeper. As he took my balls in his hands and lightly twisted. Gently squeezed.
Need thrummed through my veins.
Desire ricocheted through my body.
Craving overtook my reasoning.
“I’m coming.” I could barely push the words past my tight throat. My entire body was wound so tight, explosion wasn’t just possible—it was probable.
He sucked harder.
I came just as hard.
Chapter Twelve
Malik
Having Spencer Fucking Wainright come apart under my ministrations was a sight to behold. One I wouldn’t soon forget.
He finally broke eye contact, arched his neck backward, and drew in great lungfuls of air.
I continued to suck until I was certain I’d gotten every last drop of cum. With a satisfied grin, I pulled off him with a littlepop. Even that didn’t bring him down to earth. Although my knees weren’t aching, my cock was certainly unhappy at having been neglected for so long. I tried to parse out my options.
“You should—” He gulped. “I should—” He managed to tip his head back so our gazes met.
“I’m good.” I offered a broad self-satisfied grin. I hadn’t been certain I could actually make him let go of that ever-present vigilance. But he had. In spectacular fashion. I was kind of proud of myself. Oh, who was I kidding? I was fucking blissful.
“But—” Another deep breath.
His color was hectic red.Should I be worried? He doesn’t have a heart condition…right? Just the headaches— “Are you okay?”
