Now I’m getting the big freeze from him. Great. “I can’t stay here,” I tell him bluntly.
He folds his arms, sneering. “Youcan’tstay? You can whisk me off to fucking Montauk for a vacation tomorrow, but staying tonight is beyond the pale?”
I hate admitting to any weakness, but the last thing I need is Carlo stewing all night. “When I say I can’t stay, I mean it. This place makes me fucking claustrophobic, Bianchi. Reminds me of shit I’d rather not remember.” The look of pity on his face is exactly why I didn’t want to fucking tell him. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I grab the empty pizza box and turn to leave, but the sound of Carlo’s footsteps makes me wait, staring at the carpet, the stupid pizza box hanging from my hand. His warm palm lands on my back and rubs slightly.
“Okay, Nicky,” he says gently. “I get it. But you could at least kiss me goodbye.”
The need to leave is clawing at me, but I let him turn me around, take the pizza box from my hand and throw it back toward the kitchen before he puts his arms around my neck. What I said to him just last night comes back to me, my own voice,When I’m looking at you this close—when I know I’m about to kiss you again—I can’t think of anything except you. God, it’s truer than even I knew, because the closer his lips come to mine, the more the uncomfortable, closed-in feeling recedes. He kisses me soft and slow until I pull him closer and then, with a muffled chuckle, he lets me turn him, push him up against the wall.
“Come on, you owe me from last night,” he says over his shoulder as I grind up against him. “Atleastlet me suck you off before you go.”
Man has a point.
I kiss my way down the side of his neck, grabbing at his ass. God, Christ,fuck, his ass. I squeeze it so hard he gasps. I just came all over him last night but I’m desperate for him still, as though I haven’t had him for weeks. “Nicky,” he murmurs, and the tenderness in his voice, the affection of it, makes me ease up.
“I’ll stay,” I tell him roughly. “Like you said, I owe you one.”
I don’t feel caged in when I’m with Carlo. Feels like I’m seeing clear to the horizon when I’m with him, sweet freedom all around me that nothing could ever take away. He pushes back off the wall and turns us both around so my back’s to it, his hands already on my waistband, unbuttoning, unzipping. There’s no tease; he’s straight on me like he’s been desperate for it these last twenty-four hours, deep-throating me with the same single-minded determination I’ve seen him get in court.
He does me like that until I grab at his head, but he pulls my hands away and plants them back on the wall. I get it. I played around with him last night; tonight, it’s his turn. My palms go sweaty against the wall and I screw up my eyes. If I keep looking at him there on his knees, swallowing my dick, I’ll lose it way too fast.
And then my dick pops out of his lips and he looks up at me, clears his throat, and says, “I changed my mind.”
I claw at the wall, a helpless thing.
“You are delicious, Nicky, but I want to fuck. I want you balls-deep in my ass showing me exactly how hard you can fuck when you really put your mind to it. Can you do that?”
“I think I can…see my way to…aw,fuck,” I say, pushing him back down as he starts to spring up from the floor. “Fuckit. No, I can’t.” He looks at my dick as though it’s spontaneously erupted, then back into my face with a confused frown. “No rubbers.” Blindly, I push my hips forward, trying to find his mouth again.
“Goddamnit, Nicky,” he snarls. “I should fucking edge you all night for that.” But he gets right back to sucking my cock like it’s his job, and when he grabs my nuts and gives them a little twist, a little tug, exactly the right amount of discomfort he knows I like, I thunk my head back against the wall and give a long, low groan as all that pent-up stress flows out of me, straight into Carlo’s choking throat.
He keeps sucking me past the point it feels good, then even past the point it feels too sensitive, to a place I could get hard again if he keeps going. He’s suckling at me with little slurping noises that remind me of what he said last night, that he could use my cock like a pacifier.
Fuck. I might be into that.
But I look down to see him jacking off, and the thought of him coming all over the floor makes me pull him up. The last thing I want after this is to be cleaning up the damn tiles. I pull him over to the bed, which is only a double and doesn’t feel quite big enough for the both of us, but Carlo is beyond caring. I tuck him into me, my nose to his as he strokes himself a little slower now. He tips his chin up, makes a demanding noise, and I move forward to kiss him, let him suck on my tongue. There’s a part of me that wants to taste him again, but he’s too close now anyway, and besides, I want to watch his face this time when he shoots. I didn’t get to see it last night and if there’s one highlight in fucking Carlo Bianchi, believe me, it’s watching him come.
He breaks away from my mouth to whisper,Nicky, fuck, Nicky, I—and then he spasms in my arms, splashing me with hot spurts as he wriggles through his orgasm, his face all screwed up before relaxing into a wide smile.
* * *
We clean up this time.It was hot last night, him covered in all my spunk and sleeping there in it, but tomorrow we need to haul out early. I told Tramonto to make himself scarce from tonight and that I’d call him if I needed him. He gave me this look that told me he’d mind his own business from here to kingdom come rather than get involved in whatever’s going down between me and Luca.
I’m not even sure about that myself.
But I turn my mind back to more pleasant things: the shower-softened Carlo Bianchi in my arms, for example. He’s a cuddler, Carlo, even in the summer heat. I like that about him.
“Shame about the rubbers,” I yawn. We’re back in bed, bunched up together in the middle of it.
“Yeah, about that,” Carlo says, and if I didn’t know better, he’d almost sound nervous. “I was wondering if we should ditch them.”
“Huh?”
He rolls onto his back and looks at the ceiling. “Ditch using protection. Because I mean, we both got screened not long ago and we were both negative for everything,” he gabbles, “and it’s not like we’ve been careful anyway. We haven’t used them for oral for a long time.”
He used to glove me up for everything the first few times. But he’s right. It’s been a long time since we bothered with protection for anything but anal. “We ain’t been careful,” I acknowledge. “But now you want to be—what, careless?”
