“Did you like that too?” he asks as he tosses my shirt aside. I see a dark but hopeful look in his eyes. His concern and questions surprise me as it’s not common with hookups. Another thought why he may be asking springs to mind and lodges in my chest.
“Being restrained? Yeah, I like it sometimes, but I’m not into full-on BDSM. So tell me now if you’re a Dom or anything.”
“No, nothing like that.” He huffs a laugh and the small knot of worry eases. He was just genuinely trying to find out, and I find that touching, especially as this is a fleeting thing.
“I’m sorry if I’ve killed the mood,” he says, handing me my glass. I drink half of it and put the glass back down.
“You haven’t. It’s good to know likes, dislikes, and boundaries. And consent is sexy—one of the sexiest things, actually.” I trace my hand down his chest, over his abs to his groin, and run my hand across the bulge in his trousers, feeling his semi turn hard as I rub my thumb firmly up and down. “What could be sexier than saying yes?” I deliberately say the last word in a breathy whisper and increase the pressure of my thumb. His breathing becomes irregular and his eyes become hooded in a seriously sexy way. I lean close and whisper against his neck.
“Can I suck you?”
“Yes.” His voice is dark and gravelly.
“See, very sexy,” I say only half teasingly, as hearing him speak like that makes my body tingle. He gives a tiny huff as if he finds me funny but can’t think past what my hand is doing to him. Good. I intend to blow his dick and his mind.
I quickly unbutton his jeans and pull them down, sinking to my knees in front of him. His cock is tenting his boxers, already wet with precum. Grabbing the waistband, I pull them over the end, freeing his cock with a bounce. I still can’t get over how beautiful it is, long and perfectly framed by a mass of dark hair. I trace my tongue lazily from base to tip, lapping at the steadily leaking precum, then I wet my lips and wrap them round the head, working my tongue over the glands and laving his slit. Hearing his low hum spurs me on, and I work more of him intomy mouth, alternately applying pressure and then tongue until he’s groaning. He’s too long for me to take all of him, not without practice, so I wrap my hand around the base and keep up the pressure. I work my mouth back up to the head, licking and sucking sloppily, then I graze my teeth across the tip and his hips jerk.
“More . . . please,” he hisses as he thrusts into my mouth. I glance up at him. He’s gripping onto the bar behind him, his head thrown back, his breathing is ragged, he’s a glorious sight. I pull back until I nearly pop off the end, then suck the head back into my mouth with my teeth behind my lips, dragging them over the tip, following with my tongue to run under the head and across the frenulum. He makes an incoherent noise and pushes his hips forwards. I do it again and he still thrusts for more. I repeat it over and over, using my hand in long strokes on his shaft as he arches forward, groaning at the move. His moans become deeper and I see how close he is to coming. I work my hand faster until he jerks and cries out. Hot cum explodes in my mouth, and he sags slightly, but I keep my mouth in place, wanting every drop of him. Eventually I release him and look up. He’s looking down at me, his eyes liquid and his mouth parted in a slight smile. Then he bends down and grabs my hands, pulling me back up to my feet and straight towards him. He crushes his lips to mine, kissing me deeply. It’s not soft, it’s visceral, and I open up for him, matching his need. His tongue explores, as if he wants to taste himself on me, and I let him in. I’ve swallowed his cum but maybe next time he’ll want me to share, and my cock twitches at the thought. My brain snags on thinking there’ll be a next time. Who knows, the night’s not over yet.
CHAPTER TEN
ANDRÉS
I slow the kiss down, the visceral urge to take more from Simon after the high of my orgasm waning. I’ve never experienced a blow job as good as that. Even thinking about it is causing my spent cock to perk up again. It was incredible. I take my time breaking off the kiss, but now I’ve felt his soft full lips, I want more of them. I finally break contact and Simon steps back. He picks up his drink and drains it, then he gives me the brightest smile, one that flips my stomach and lifts my heart. Kicking off my jeans and boxers and pulling my T-shirt over my head, I remember his request to be wrecked; I’m gonna do that. My dick might need a few minutes to recover but I can have plenty of fun taking my time prepping him.
I grab his arse and pick him up, ignoring his surprised squeal as I walk him to the bed and drop him down on his back. He laughs as I strip his trousers and underpants off him.
I return to the bar and pour the last of the champagne out, then I place the glasses next to the bed and find lube and condoms.
I straddle his hips and sit over him. He looks up at me, his eyes swirling with lust. He bites his lip in anticipation and I give him a lazy smile. I lick my thumbs and rub them over his nipples, teasing them to harden them before taking the nubs and pulling gently until he gasps a little. I tug harder and he lifts off the bed, moaning. I lean down and lick them, soothing the hurt away, and he relaxes with a smile. A bead of precum forms on his dick and I want to taste it. I dip two fingers in my drink and swirl them round his tip, mixing the champagne with the sticky substance before putting them in my mouth.
“That’s fucking hot,” Simon says, his eyes on my mouth.
“Do you know what’s hotter?” I ask but don’t wait for an answer. I repeat mixing the fizz with his precum, which is leaking in strings now, and offer my fingers to him instead. He sucks on them, keeping eye contact all the while. It definitely is hotter. I do it a third time, but this time I chase my fingers with my lips, tasting him from his own mouth. The low moan he gives against my mouth travels south, and my cock starts filling again. Never mind taking a long time, I want to be inside him soon, and I need to prep him. I scoot backwards and flip him over. I run my hand over his arse, his perfectly shaped peach.
“Did you know you have a beauty spot right here?” I ask, tracing over his little mole.
“I’m not sure you can call them beauty spots on your arse,” he replies, raising himself on his elbows and peering over his shoulder.
“On an arse as beautiful as this you definitely can,” I say and pick up my glass. I dribble a few drops of champagne over his beauty spot and lick them off. I add more, letting it pool in the top of his crease before I lap it up. I pull his cheeks apart with one handand pour more, watching as it trickles down his crack and over his pucker. I lick him, enjoying how he moans every time my tongue connects with his hole.
“What I wouldn’t eat off this arse,” I say, pushing the tip of a champagne coated finger into him so I can delve in and lick it out.
“Are you issuing a challenge or making a list?” he asks with a breathless giggle, pushing back so I can go deeper. Champagne isn’t any sort of lube but he doesn’t seem to mind.
“Both,” I say, shoving my finger further into him, my mind whirling with the possibilities of what I could feast on him with. Opening him up with another finger, I pour as much as I can onto him and then drink it all off. I’d love to fill him up and then suck it back out, but even exclusive hotel suites don’t come with that sort of equipment.
I flip him onto his back again and reach for the lube.
He giggles as he notices. “Surely some foods make suitable lube,” he says, raising his knees up.
“You’re the chef; you tell me,” I reply as I flip the tube open and squirt some onto my fingers.
“Well, obviously there’s butter, but it’s messy. Olive oil has been used for centuries. Coconut oil is good, easy and not too messy.”
“You sound like you speak from experience,” I raise an eyebrow at him.
“I’m a chef.” He shrugs and smirks. “But basically anything oil based is going to do it.”
