“Jesus,” he breaks away to say, his forehead landing hard on my cheekbone.
“You’re—inside me—” I say in a voice so deep I barely recognize I’m the one talking.
He shudders, and I feel it in my bones. “Are you good?”
I nod. “Yeah. Yes—fuck—fuck me.”
The hand that was on my waist moves to my face, and he positions it to capture my mouth with his. He withdraws his cock slightly, and then with a plunge of his tongue into my mouth, he thrusts, rearranging my insides in a way that shatters my world with a single blow.
I tug frantically at my straining dick, rigid as fuck and not forgotten, but sort of an afterthought as he invades me from all sides. This is sex like I’ve never had before. Not only because I’m the one on the receiving end of his cock, but it’s so fucking intimate. Like—constantly.
Deacon is all-consuming. My heart thuds painfully in my chest. Yearning to get just one centimeter—a millimeter closer to him.Anything.
He’s slow with me in a way I don’t think I’ve ever gone slow with anyone. Our bodies feel fused, moving as one. Our skin is sweat-slicked and hot—too hot. Long minutes pass as I kisshim and adjust to him. Eventually I let go of my cock, bracing my hand on the mattress instead. He clutches and strokes every exposed part of me. I find myself reaching back to feel the muscles of his ass as he pumps me full of his dick. He’s strong and fluid, sexy as hell.
As the beginner here, I’m helpless to do anything to get him off. I don’t have the skill or the wherewithal to know when to clench, or even how I’d manage it with something so large lodged so deep. I’m a panting, groaning mess, and I can’t find it in me to care.
“You want me to come?” he asks.
“Mmm….yes.”
“I’m really fucking close. You feel so good.” His hand closes around my hip, and he kisses me again. I return to jerking my cock as a low moan from him fills my throat. His hips stutter through a few rougher thrusts, but it’s the sound of his pleasure that sets me off. All my nerves fire, and cum shoots from my dick, then gushes over my still pumping fist. He breaks the seal of our mouths and moves to kiss my neck again, his breaths fast and harsh, his dick wedged somewhere near my diaphragm, thudding deep, deep inside me with his release.
I’ve adjusted to having him there, so I don’t rush him. I kiss the spot on his arm where I bit him, and when I catch my breath, I ask, “Daddy?”
He huffs. “I’m sorry. It slipped out. It’s what everybody at work calls you.”
My eyes fly open. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
“Nope.”
I drop my head on his arm and groan. “Fuck me.”
“Mm…” he rumbles, running his hand up and down my sweaty abs. “Any time.”
6
EVAN
The sound of the bench press clanking wakes me just after five on Monday morning. Deacon’s home. I’d like to be happy about that, but since the whole Sunday date that was “maybe” going to happen ended up with me eating takeout Chinese food and breaking my software even more, I’ve been slightly depressed. That’ll teach me to get my hopes up.
It’s also got me thinking more and more about Hunter’s offer. If it was serious. If it’s true there are no strings. If I want a different life.
My crush on Deacon started off innocent. He’s beautiful. Sexy. Kind. We have things in common with our jobs and our shared living space. If he’s gay or even bi, it seemed like the natural conclusion to my moving in would be that we’d hit it off and hook up. But that’s not what happened. He’s friend zoned me hard. Or roommate zoned me. I’m not sure which is worse. I’m his plus one with his finance friends, and I run interference between him and Millie when she comes on too strong, but whatever takes him away every weekend has left me on the outskirts of his life.
I suspect he’s seeing someone who lives out of town. Whether it’s a man or a woman, I’ve got no clue, but that would explain why he’s never so much as checked out my crotch, no matter how many tight pairs of shorts or gray sweatpants I parade around in.
My once fun and innocent crush has turned into something more like hopeless pining that hurts a little more every time I fail to break through with him.
My friend Sam, who is the only person who knows I have both a hopeless crush on Deacon and an inappropriate relationship with my boss has quizzed me relentlessly on why I won’t try to find someone who’s actually available.
Since I think about this a lot—because I’m alone a lot—I’ve concluded that it all goes back to what happened with Hunter in college. His willingness to share me with anyone and everyone who asked left my self-worth in the fucking gutter. My parents may think I’m the VIP of the world, but I have yet to meet a guy in San Francisco who pursued anything more than a night with me, not that I’ve wanted more, either. And I guess I’ve gotten used to it? It’s better than getting stuck in a situation that has the potential to hurt me.
Bottom line—sex with Isaac is safe. He’s not gonna tell anyone about it. I like my job, so I’m sure as shit not gonna say anything. He’s consistently dating and looking for marriage or whatever, and I’m too emotionally damaged to be bothered by the fact that he wants me for the wrong reasons.
Deacon is safe, too. There’s something about wanting someone from the privacy of your own brain that mitigates the risk of getting totally fucked over, and I guess I’m into that kind of thing.
Still…Hunter got me thinking. Remembering the good times made me stupid enough to give asking Deacon out a try, and look how that went. Hurt feelings: Szechuan style.
