His abs compressed as he moaned out, “That feels so good, O.”
With my other hand, I continued stroking his girth.
His face tensed up for a moment, and I ceased.
“I think my hole might need a little more spit than that,” he urged. “But keep doing it. That feels good.”
“Feel free to let me know if you have any other requests,” I said before granting him some more lubricant and continuing the massage.
“You can stick them in farther, if you want.”
I could tell by the way he said it that he was trying to respect my current limits, make sure I was as comfortable as I wanted him to be with what we shared.
I pushed my fingers in, and his eyes widened with his smile, his mouth hanging open.
“A little bit more.”
I didn’t have any doubt where he was leading me, and the tender sensation that followed had me suspicious until he called out, “Owen, ah…”
His cock pulsated in the grip of my other hand as I watched him shoot across his abs, a bit making it all the way up to his nipple.
He was shifting about still, his biceps tense as he continued clinging to the couch like he was using it to brace himself for support. He wasn’t holding anything back from me.
It was just pure Keeg Kruse pleasure.
I basked in it as he took a few deep breaths, recovering from what we’d shared.
“Oh God,” he said, “you made me shoot a lot.”
“Did you enjoy that?”
“Of course. What made you think to play with my hole?”
“I saw it in a porn once and it looked hot.”
He laughed. “Well, you weren’t wrong there.”
I appreciated the validation he offered. He sat up, his disheveled hair curling every which way. Hot as Backward-Baseball-Cap Keegan was, this look was even hotter.
“Here. Let me get you a towel.”
He eyed me peculiarly, in a way that made me feel like I’d done something wrong. “It’s your turn,” he explained, eyeing my crotch. “I’m not that guy who’s not going to return the favor.”
“Keegan, you don’t have to do anything. I did that because I want—”
“Prince Man,” he said, clearly referring to Marty’s nickname for me, “just let me put your dick in my mouth, okay?”
We were back to Cocky Keegan, and I loved it.
He tilted his head, angling it down as he reached for my fly.
We worked together, pulling down my jeans and briefs.
I was driven by something so primitive perhaps simply because of how worked up he’d gotten me.
Soon, I was lying across the sofa, Keegan on his knees between my legs, his lips sliding down my shaft. My nerves shot waves of sensation straight through me. I rested my hands on either side of his head, encouraging him along.
God, I missed Hot Lips.
