He nuzzled his mouth into the crook of my neck, trailing soft, wet kisses up to my ear. I jolted and groaned as I felt his teeth on my earlobe.
Rowan started by gently nibbling on the edge of my ear, but soon he was kissing and sucking at the soft sensitive flesh. I didn’t know if I was particularly responsive there or whether it was just because it was Rowan, with his hand simultaneously stroking my cock, but every touch and kiss sent a shock of arousal shooting down my body.
Rowan pulled away slightly, but instead of backing off, he timidly slid his tongue into my ear. I moaned and curled my hips up into his hand. This was a new experience, something I had never done or had done to me before, but there was no denying my enjoyment of it. I had a feeling my ears were going to be a new erogenous zone from here on in. Rowan groaned as my flesh pulsed in his hand and began sliding his hand back and forth with determination. I bit down hard on my lower lip and my brow furrowed. I was so engrossed; I didn’t even notice my phone was ringing until Rowan nudged me.
“Do you need to get that?” he muttered in my ear.
“Whoever it is, I’ll ring them back,” I gasped. “Don’t stop, I’m going to cum.”
I sucked in a breath, holding it as I felt my climax building up my shaft. Rowan kissed me roughly, shoving his tongue into my mouth and I moaned. I screwed my eyes shut and my abs tensed as I covered them with my own cum.
Rowan leaned in and we kissed messily for a few long moments whilst I caught my breath. I had barely recovered, my head still swimming, when my phone rang again.
“I really think you should get that,” Rowan muttered, his lips curving into a smile.
I growled with frustration and sat up, reaching across to grab a tissue from my nightstand. I mopped the mess I had made off my stomach whilst carefully reached down over the edge of my bed for my phone.
Oliver calling…
Before I could answer it, the phone rang off and I heard a loud hammering on the front door. I tapped open my messages: two from Becca, four from Oliver.
OLIVER: Hey dude, are you home? I’ve left my keys in the flat.
OLIVER: I’m just on my way home. Are you there to let me in?
OLIVER: Answer your fucking phone!
OLIVER: Prick!
That last one stung and I scowled. My phone lit up in my hands and I answered immediately, confronted by an angry Oliver.
“At fucking last!” he shouted. “What the fuck, man?”
“I didn’t hear my phone.” I smiled sheepishly at Rowan and got up from the bed. “I’m coming to let you in now.” I pulled my t-shirt down and mouthed for Rowan to stay put. He grinned and nodded, lying down onto his back once more and propping an arm behind his head.
“I can’t fucking believe you,” Oliver slurred, clearly drunk. “I’ve been out here for ages.”
“It’s not my problem you forgot your keys,” I snapped. “What would you have done if I wasn’t here?”
I opened the door and Oliver shoved his way inside, stumbling as he did so. He glared at me as he passed.
“Hey, don’t you dare be fucking pissed with me, Ol,” I growled. “Remember your fucking key next time you go out getting stoned with your loser mates.” I stormed back towards my bedroom.
“Or just answer your fucking phone?!” he shouted, flopping down heavily onto the sofa.
“Fucking prick,” I muttered under my breath. As I headed back towards my bedroom, I opened the messages from Becca.
BECCA: How’s it going? Having fun yet?
BECCA: I just had a really weird call from Oliver. I think he’s drunk and looking for you. Ring me when you can.
I sighed, pushing my bedroom door open. Rowan looked up from flicking through options on Netflix.
“Everything alright?” he asked.
“The fucking arsehole is drunk and has forgotten his key, and that’s somehow my fault,” I grumbled, throwing my phone down on the bed before clambering back alongside Rowan.
“Y’want me to get out of here?” he asked.
