Once we’re finished eating he sits there and awaits my next command. I’m taking my time and deliberately drawing this out because we don’t get many nights like this. Normally he’s too busy putting me back together in what scant time we have.
For the first time since returning to the residence my mind slips to thoughts of Stella and whatever’s going on and I viciously shove them away.
My sister’s taken up far too much rent-free space in my mind over the years. I damned sure don’t want her intruding on this sweet private time between me and Jordan. He deserves my undivided attention right now, especially considering how hard he works.
Finally, I take my last bite and set my fork on the plate, slowly dabbing my lips with the cloth napkin before setting it aside. Out of the corner of my eye I’m watching him, the way his chest rises and falls, excitement and eager need tensing his body so he can react immediately to whatever cue or command I give.
I slowly push my chair back from the table before reaching for the glass of wine. I’ve left a few swallows for me to savor now.
Then I spread my thighs wide, snap my fingers, and point.
CHAPTERTWENTY
Jordan damnnear tips his chair over in his eagerness to comply. He dives between my legs and quickly unfastens my belt and slacks. Doesn’t make his job any easier that my full erection presses against the zipper.
But he finally manages to free me from my boxers and looks up into my eyes as he swallows me to the root, making me hiss with pleasure as the wet heat of his mouth glides down my shaft.
“Good boy,” I murmur, my free hand settling on his head. I thread my fingers through his hair and gently massage his scalp even as I apply light pressure to keep him deep on me without gagging him.
Our gazes lock as I bring the wineglass to my lips and take a sip. Jordan’s deceptively innocent exterior hides a core of pain, hardened first by enduring his premature start in life and the resulting medical conditions, then the emotional abuse heaped upon him by his parents when he came out to them and escaped to his grandmother’s house.
He has no reason to be as sweet and loving and devoted as he is. He has every reason to be jaded and cynical and mistrustful.
Yet he loves me. He kept trying even as I held him at arm’s length in the beginning.
He accepted me when I finally broke and pursued him.
He has awarded me a level of trust and grace I usually feel unworthy of.
See? Irrational love and loyalty.
I resent that my sister can make a mockery of the institution of marriage when I have two men I’d kill and die for and can’t profess the truth to the world about my love for and devotion to them both.
Scratch that. Resent is too weak a word for the anger that could easily consume me. Just like she self-righteously wields her “religion” and monetizes it for her own gain.
Focus, Elliot.
Patient Jordan still awaits my next cue, his silky tongue playing with the underside of my cock while he gently sucks me.
I ease the pressure on his head but gently fist his hair. “Don’t swallow, boy,” I whisper. He knows that’s permission to get me off.
His soft moan vibrates around my cock and his gaze softens and goes unfocused as he begins to blow me in earnest. His hands slide up my thighs, cupped around my hips as his head bobs up and down.
I settle in and try to hold back, the other reason for the wine. I can sip and distract myself a little and prolong this for him and me, both.
When I went after him in Tallahassee to beg him to return I’d spent the flight down imagining what I’d say to convince him. Which was when I finally realized maybe it was better to show him how I felt instead of telling him. To finally let down my defenses a little and expose my underbelly first in the most immediate way I could.
Relief filled me that day as I sank to my knees in front of him and blew him. Even if I hadn’t convinced him to come with me, I’d incisively broken through one of my self-imposed walls without Leo’s direct involvement.
“Good boy,” I whisper, scratching his head as he moans again and redoubles his efforts.
Jesus, he’s fourteen years younger than me and yet he holds my life together.
And he loves me.
I finish my wine and set the glass aside so I can cradle his head and take over. I’m close and want to come so I can get to the cuddling with him.
So I can take care of him and show him my love the way he shows me his.
