“Then apologize to me with this,” I whispered again, “Sir.”
The sound that left Miles’s mouth was unreal and indescribable. Somewhere between the sound I’d imagine if I told him he’d won the lottery and the sound he made when he’d come inside of me for the first time. I was sure—to the marrow of my bones—that either option held the same level of magnitude for him.
That was why I’d come straight over after dinner.
That was why anything he had to say could wait.
There wasn’t any begging or pleading to be done, at least not from him. I was in love with him, and I wasn’t going to walk away because I knew that he loved me back.
“Hendrix,” he tried again.
“Sir.” I went to my knees before him, finishing the work of getting his cock out of his pants and into my mouth. Any other protests Miles had died when the head of his dick landed against my tongue.
It didn’t take long for him to stop arguing. Miles’s fingers tangled into my hair and his hips began to move, thrusting into my mouth with a little more force each time. Tears streaked down my cheeks, and spit pooled in the corners of my mouth, trailing down to my chin and my throat. I undid the fly of my own pants, shoving my hand behind the waistband of my briefs to get hold of my cock.
“Nuh-uh,” he warned, burying himself firmly in the back of my mouth, fingers tightening in my hair until I brought both of my hands to his thighs. “Don’t even think about touching yourself without my approval. Do you understand?”
Yes.
A thousand times yes.
I managed a nod, and Miles loosened his grip enough to resume his rough fuck of my throat. If I’d held any doubt as to his feelings, it would have been gone. His focus and his intentions were made clear with the coiled restraint of his muscles, the grit in his jaw, and the soft warning of his words.
Miles’s cock thickened, pressing against the roof of my mouth. I swallowed against him, relaxing my jaw, ready to take his load, but he pulled out, leaving my mouth cold and gagging for air. Trails of spit connected my mouth to his dick, my hands hovering in the air where his legs had just been. His chest heaved as he breathed, eyes wild with enough want I almost came in my pants from the sight of it.
How did he do that?
How did he unhinge me without even using words?
“Take off your clothes,” he demanded, fisting his cock and taking another step away.
I stripped myself bare, kicking all of my clothes into a pile in his entryway. I’d been on my knees, so I stayed there. I wondered how I looked, covered in tears and spit with a hard and leaking cock jutting out from between my legs.
Miles tore his stare away from me, scanning the room before letting out a frustrated groan.
“Bend over the couch,” he said. “Spread yourself open and wait for me.”
I pushed to my feet and did as he’d instructed. My cock ached, pressed against the back of the couch and undoubtedly leaking against the upholstery. Reaching back, I grabbed my ass and spread my cheeks apart, shame burning my face at the exposure. It wasn’t humiliating, though. It was a reminder. Anecessaryreminder of who I was and who we were to each other. But beyond that, it was a promise of how good we could be. I presented myself for Miles because he asked it of me, and I trusted him to make intimate decisions that would bring both of us pleasure.
He was back, then. Still dressed, with a tube of lube in his hand, already slicked and dripping down the length of his cock.
“Do you need prep?” he asked.
I shook my head.
“Do you want it?”
“No, Sir.”
The cold and blunt head of his dick pressed against my asshole, and I bore down, making room for him to stretch me apart. Miles’s dick burned as it entered me, stretching me slowly. He made sure I felt every throbbing inch of his cock until he was seated fully inside of me, thighs aligned and balls touching. He fell forward over the top of me, rutting deeper, and wrapping one of his arms around my chest.
“Is this the kind of apology you wanted?” he rasped, drawing his hips back and plunging forward. “Is this how you think we communicate best, Hendrix?”
He fucked the answer right out of me, breath leaving my mouth in harsh pants. I wouldn’t have been able to get a word out, even if I’d wanted to. I knew his question was rhetorical. We both already knew the answer. The first time he told me he loved me had been with his body, and the first time I’d given him my submission had been much the same. I didn’t mean to imply that sex was the only way we could communicate, because it wasn’t, but the way our bodies moved and meshed together was quickly becoming my favorite language to learn.
It wasn’t long before his own line of questioning went quiet, the tight heat of my body reducing him to grunts and groans. Sweat slicked between our bodies, his hold on me turning tighter as he began to lose his control. Against the couch, my dick ached, the pressure point from the back of the couch landing just below the head of my cock, strangling off the approach of my own orgasm. It was an unintentional pain, but it was exquisite.
Miles reached up, hooking two of his fingers over my teeth and into my mouth. I coughed around his hand, fingers depressing against my tongue and sliding along the same path his cock had taken earlier. His body moved faster, hips slapping against my ass as he pummeled himself into me.
