“The next one is important.” I bit his lower lip until he gasped. “Do you bottom?”
“Yes.” Precum leaked out of his dick, mixing with my own and sticking to my fingers.
“Top?”
“Yes.”
“Fucking Christ,” I muttered, going to my knees. I swallowed his cock into the back of my throat, working him right to the precipice of his orgasm before pulling off with a gasp. Strings of spit connected my mouth to his cock and he tasted so good I would have gladly let him choke me to death with the thickest parts of his shaft.
“Condoms?” I asked, looking back up at him, the sight of him blurry for the tears that had pooled in the corners of my eyes. My own cock was still in my hand and I worked myself steadily with long, slow strokes from root to tip that had my forearms shivering with restraint.
“Yes.” He pushed his cock down toward my face, his eyes falling shut with a moan.
I forced myself back to my feet, helping him kick out of his pants right there in the middle of his kitchen. He stripped his shirt over his head, leaving his body bare before my own half-dressed figure.
I grabbed Hendrix’s face, fingers on one side of his jaw and thumb on the other, puckering his kiss-swollen lips and bringing his attention to my face. His pupils were shot, dilated with lust and dark with pleasure.
“Are you sure?” I asked.
I wanted this man more than I wanted my next breath and that was dangerous for the both of us. I didn’t want to be the kind of man I knew I was, but I knew I wasn’t good enough to walk away. We’d have to deal with the aftermath when we got to it which, knowing me, would be sooner than later.
But all of that was a problem for future Miles.
Present Miles had more pressing things to attend to because Hendrix’s answer came out soft as a prayer, offering me all of the praise and none of the salvation.
“Yes.”
CHAPTERNINE
Hendrix
My legs carriedme to the bedroom, but I’d barely had a chance to pull open the drawer on my bedside table before Miles was on me again. He was still half-dressed, his pants undone but still above his knees, his shirt still keeping his chest from my view. The room was dark, and Miles pressed our chests together as he took me down to the bed, his hand reaching blindly between our bodies until he found my cock.
In the kitchen, I’d almost come down his throat, the edge of my orgasm a sharp thing that rubbed and cut me for every breath it wasn’t allowed to be free. I wanted to come more than I wanted Miles to fuck me, and that was saying something because it had been months since I’d been fucked and only hours since I’d come.
He sealed his lips against my neck, dropping a line of sloppy and wet kisses across my throat and up to my ear where he whispered, “What about choking?”
My lashes fluttered, eyes rolling back as I arched into him. “Yes.”
I expected a hand around my neck. What he gave me instead were two long fingers against my tongue, pressing past my lips and sliding toward my throat. I gagged instinctively, sputtering around the intrusion as he stretched my mouth to accommodate his hand.
“Yeah,” he rasped, cock hard against my hip. “Just like that.”
I closed my lips around his knuckles, sucking his fingers like they were a cock, which earned me a lip curl so aggressive I worried that I might have gotten in over my head with him. He pushed a third finger in, drawing another strangled gasp out of me.
Younger men were rarely good news, but I’d hoped Miles would at least be safe. Not that I worried for my health or well-being around him, I just hadn’t expected a man his age to have had enough time to amass so much skill. But as he fucked my throat with more than half of his hand, I realized the error of my ways.
With spit slicking out of my mouth and down my chin, Miles removed his fingers, quickly replacing them with his tongue. He kissed me with a hurried intensity, swallowing down my moans when his spit-soaked fingers found a place between my ass cheeks. He teased my rim for less than a breath before easing one of his fingers all the way into me.
Even with my spit, the slide was tight and rough.
And I liked it.
Miles took more time than I would have to get me ready, pulling back to get lube from the nightstand at one point to make the entry of his fingers easier. My thighs trembled and my sheets were soaked, my cock stuck to my stomach for all the precum that leaked while he prepped me for his dick.
After what felt like hours of sexual torment, Miles withdrew his hand. Between my sprawled and limp legs, he busied himself by rolling a condom down his impressive length and slicking it with lube. I’d been teasing in the kitchen when I told himIwas hung. My cock was girthy, I knew, but not long. I wouldn’t have considered myself hung. Miles, though…
No amount of lube was going to make this an easy fit.
