I tease him with my tongue and it seems to break something in him.
“If I wait any longer, I’m going to come at the sight of you like that.” He pulls his hand from me. “I need you to take out my dick,” he instructs and I start with the damn button again. Once loosened, his pants slip down toned thighs. “Please,” he whimpers as his fingers sink into my hair, not gripping, just resting there as if to guide me if needed.
With a tug on his boxer briefs, his cock springs out in front of me. A bead of pre-cum glistens on the swollen head.
“Now what?” I ask.
“Start slow, just the tip.”
I close my lips around him and his body twitches. Looking up expectantly, I find his eyes locked on me and blazing with a startling intensity, his chest heaving.
“God. You look so fucking good on your knees with my cock in your mouth.” He pants. “Use your tongue, swirl it around for me, baby.”
I do as he instructs and grow more confident with each sound that escapes him. I take more of him, bobbing up and down as he curses under his breath.
Okay, maybe this isn’t that hard. I just need to show a little enthusiasm.
I go faster.
And then I gag, a heaving retch escaping me. I pull back, sputtering for air. Fuck.Way to kill the mood, Henri. He fucking rocked your world and you sound like a cat with a hair ball in it’s throat.
“Sorry. Sorry,” I say.
“Nothing to be sorry about. You don’t know your limits, yet.” The hand in my hair smooths up my neck to catch my chin. “It’s hot how much you want me. Use one hand.” He grips the base of his cock. “Here. But do me a favor, spit on it first.”
“You want me to . . . what?”
“I want you to get my dick wet; it helps with the friction. Now spit,” he commands.
“Okay,” I say hesitantly, rising back on my knees. Saliva pools in my mouth and I bend so I’m over his cock and spit.
“There you go. Now try again.”
First, I wrap a hand around his base and twist. Then my mouth joins. I suck and swirl my tongue as Liam babbles encouragement, his thighs shaking.
“If you don’t want me to come in your mouth, you need to let go, Henri.”
But I don’t. I go faster.
His cock jolts, his abs clench, and hot salty cum spurts down my throat. I swallow it down.
“Fuck. How are you real?” Liam gasps.
And for the first time in a long time, I truly feel like I am real. Not just a figment of someone’s imagination. A real person who wants and needs and is fucking hypnotized by how this man I can’t let myself get too attached to is looking at me.
22
Liam
Want to try something new for your first date? Take them to get the worst coffee you know of. That’s what Jane (name changed for anonymity) does for the more than fifty men she goes out with each year. But Jane isn’t exactly looking for a second date. No, these men are ones who seek her out for her services: to have a date for an event.
Why bad coffee? Well, we all think we know the person we are, but when coffee grounds coat your tongue and you’re fighting off gagging in front of the barista who made it, that’s a whole different story.
And that’s how she gets her dates to talk: bad coffee. The thing is, you want to tell her everything because she makes it so damn easy. She sits and listens and for the first time in your life you feel not just listened to but understood.
You want to return the favor. You want to know her. But she won’t let you. She won’t let you care about her. You try and you try and you try and—
“The words are just pouring out of you, aren’t they?” Dad asks. His lips wear an amused tilt from where he’s standing on the other end of the table looking down at me.
