I’m imagining running my tongue all up and over and between his beautiful cheeks, when he turns around and gives me the full-frontal view while pulling up a pair of boxer-briefs.
Motherfuck-me-gently-with-a-chainsaw.
Is that a Heathers reference?
Shut it, darling.
Easy, habibi.
I’m just sayin’—it’s not a view I’ll ever get tired of.
As the thin fabric blocks a deity’s work, my prefrontal cortex fries, and with it all sense of decency and probably sanity. I scramble over the bed, nearly garroting myself with the soft sheets, and lunge for his hands, stopping him mid-cock. “No, no, no. Please let me at it. Fucking wreck my back teeth with your piercing. Gag me on your monster cock, Daddy.”
I pause to nestle my nose into his pubic hair and inhale the goodness, and in the brief pause, the rest of my brain comes back online and I realize—inconveniently after the fact—that I may have gone in a little more hardcore than is strictly my style.
I’m still holding on to his hands and the fabric is still mid-cock, but I’m not quite able to meet his eyes. He looks down at my hands, then raises his eyebrow, his lips twitching slightly. Slowly, I unhand him and scoot back.
I pout when Everett pulls his underwear up the rest of the way, but he is unmoved.
“Rafiq, I’m not going to wreck your back teeth with my piercing—that’s not how it works. And—crazy idea here—why don’t we start with a ‘good morning’ before we decide whether or not to gag you with my, quote, ‘monster cock’?”
Well,shit. He used my full name, which he’s only done once before, and that’s when I accidentally sideswiped his precious car. It’s a Nova or Chevy or Mustang…I don’t really know. But he said something to the effect of, “Rafiq, it’s not a big deal, I can get it buffed out. Don’t keep bringing it up.”
Side note, he didnothave it buffed out. He had all seventy-two layers, or whatever, of paint removed and redid the entire car. I’ve since door dinged him on the passenger side, and he hasn’t seen it yet and I don’t plan on mentioning it. Ever.
It’s a tiny ding, don’t come for me.
My little rabbit trail is interrupted by Everett’s warm hand against my neck, his thumb directing my chin to look up at him. “Rafi, you haven’t answered my question.”
“Sorry, seem to have…drifted. Why the what?”
“Can we start with a conversation? And maybe some eye contact?” His hand is still on my neck, and his thumb is working my jaw. My eyes track his movements, and his Adam’s apple bobs up and down.
“A conversation?” I ask, capturing his thumb with my teeth the next time it sweeps within range. I circle my tongue around the tip, and he pulls back, teasing me. “Right now? You wanna talkright now?”
“Yes,” he says, plunging his thumb deep into my mouth a few times before dropping his hand to my shoulder.
“Are you trying to let me down easy?”
He rolls his eyes, kissing me. “No.”
“Are you trying to let me down hard?” I ask, popping my eyebrows.
His lips threaten to break into a smile. “Definitely not.”
“But what if you suddenly remember I’m a pathetic widower and a hot mess, and you can do better?” I finally look up at him through my eyelashes and find warm amusement in his chilly blue eyes. Not fair.
Fine, two can play. “How about a cuddle and a gentle bro job before conversation?”
He laughs, an orgasm for my ears, and answers, “Yes to the cuddles, no to the bro job. We are well past thebrostage of our relationship, don’t you think?”
“Uh, you said relationship.” Breathe, Rafi. Breathe.
“Yep.” He crosses his arms, daring me to contradict him.
“So…yesterday?”
“Is why we need a conversation before nudity.”
