“No, baby. Only you,” I said in a honey-sweet voice. “Now, why don’t you go back to yourtesting.”
For the next however long, Ethan made every atom and fiber in my being come alive like I’d been struck by lightning, and it shot through me to my balls. I was so close. “Please, baby. You’re making me beg again,” I whined. “Isn’t it the submissive who does the begging?” His green eyes swept my face as my lips parted.
“I’ve got you,Babbo.” And with those words he worked our cocks together, shuttling them, every so often slowing to spread more precum and then speeding up again.
My breaths were shallow and quick, punctuated by each buck of our cocks in and out of his big palm, the sight and overload ofsensations leaving me lightheaded. My groans grew louder and more insistent as my orgasm curled around my balls. Every glide of Ethan’s hands over our cocks had me arching for more. My cock leaked like a faucet, the salty semen blending with Ethan’s when without warning I my head lolled and I cried his name as black dots fill my vision. Cum flooded his fingers.
His orgasm was quieter, more in control as he grunted through the shocks, but the multiple volleys of cum that covered his chest were just as forceful as mine. “Fuck,” he heaved, his voice husky. He nosed against my cheek, then down to my chin when he sought my gaze. “I’m glad that I waited seven years, Jude. No other man could’ve made these moments so incredible. And I’m not talking only about the sex.”
“I know,” I said, feeling the deep connection with Ethan every bit as he had. “No one else for me either.” I didn’t know what was ahead of me. And as Ethan mentioned, I didn’t trust either my mother or Father Matthew not to try and catch me engaging in what they’d consider a sin. Not that anything I did would cause me to grovel and go back to the church. Especially not when I was in the arms of a man who admitted that he was falling for me and I was going to protect our bourgeoning relationship with all I had.
Rolling away from him, I stood up and held out my hand. “Let me take you into the shower and wash you like a caring Dom, even though you ran the show in bed. We’ll need to talk about that because you have me confused about the whole dominant/submissive dynamic.”
“We’ll talk, but for now I’m taking you up on your offer to have your hands all over me so we can crawl back under the covers and cuddle until we fall asleep.”
Ethan took my outstretched hand and I led him into the bathroom. Glancing over my shoulder, I said, “I’ll make it worthwhile. Then when you drift off, you’ll be thinking aboutus.” I knew that I would and thought with a warm feeling that I was looking forward to meeting his surrogate parents. What they thought of me was going to influence my future with Ethan no matter how much he disagreed.
Sunday arrived with the speed of a race car, but I felt prepared. I’d bought two bottles of Nero d’Avola, a red wine named after Avola in the far south of Sicily, to honor both Ethan and Mamma’s roots.
“Jude, what a lovely gesture,” Mamma said, a bottle in each hand. “Ethan must’ve told you that we’re both from southern Sicily.”
“He did,” I said. “I’ve never been, but he talks about his homeland with such fondness.”
“Here,” Mamma said to me. She pushed a bottle back at him and hooked his arm in hers. “Come in the kitchen with me while the men visit.”
“Mamma,” Ethan suggested, “Maybe Jude would rather?—”
“Of course he wouldn’t. Would you Jude?”
I was completely perplexed. “Babbo, do you want to sit in the kitchen with Mamma and listen to stories about me or do you want to watch baseball with me and Frank?”
I snorted. “I don’t know the first thing about baseball.” I darted my eyes to Frank. “No disrespect, Frank.”
“None taken,” Frank said. “Mamma loves to initiate new family members.”
Ethan pressed a kiss to my temple and then a peck on Mamma’s cheek. “Mamma, I like Jude. Don’t say anything that’s going to make him run for the hills.”
After Mamma seated me at the kitchen table, she asked, “Jude, what would you like to drink? I have juice, water, beer, and white wine opened. We’ll save yours for dinner.”
“Water would be fine, thank you.”
Mamma poured water from a pitcher in the refrigerator that had lemon and lime slices floating. She placed the glass in front of me and poured one for herself before sitting down.
“Is there anything I can do?”
“No, the lasagna has another fifteen minutes. I’ll put the bread under the broiler and then we’ll be ready to eat. Are you hungry?”
“Mmm,” I said. “I’ve been looking forward to today.”
“So,” Mamma began carefully, “he called youBabbo. Do you mind me asking what’s the significance?”
Shit, I did mind but I also didn’t want to piss her off. I didn’t know what Ethan would want me to say so I told a half truth. “No,” I said after a protracted pause. “You know that I’ve been a priest. So, when we first met Ethan addressed me as Father Jude. As we got to know one another, he dropped the Jude and would call me father but as a… nickname. And then it became more of an endearment after I quit. But when I asked him to translate into Italian, well…” I said, feeling the warmth of a blush blooming on my cheeks. “Coming from Ethan with his accent, it sounded…”
“Romantic,” Mamma filled in.
“Yes,” I said holding her gaze.
“You’re in love with him, Jude,” she said as a statement.
