“Yep. I just don’t want you to think I’d go if I didn’t have to. But I can’t stay. This can’t change anything. So…”
His head tilts to the side, hair shining, lit golden from behind by that orange lamp of his.
Does he have any idea how sexy he is?
“Then, you want to do casual?” He presses my hand to his cock, and picks up that rhythm against my palm exactly where he left off, only slower, gaze melding with mine, as though I have any say in this. He leans down, kisses me, slow, his tongue twisting across mine in a never-quite-enough tease. My hand tightens around his dick. “We’ll do casual,” he whispers in my ear, his breath sending a shower of sparks flying down my spine.
Fucking hell. I’ve done all I can do at this point. If that’s what he wants…
“August?”
I can barely groan a reply to his throaty use of my name. I get some vague, acquiescent grunt out, as though I even know who I am anymore.
He takes my head in two hands, and licks my face from my jaw, right up to my ear, where he whispers, “Do you want to fuck me?”
My fingers sink deep into his back in an effort to stop myself coming on the spot. I hold my breath for a moment, pray for the feeling to pass, then let myself look up into his beautiful eyes, glazed with desire, pupils blown wide. “More than anything else I’ve ever wanted.”
I throw him down onto the couch where he lands with a playful laugh, his leg curling around behind me as I climb on top of him, kissing him, running my fingers through his hair, mapping every inch of him—the smooth skin, the stubble on his jaw, the soft flesh beneath his neck. I kiss the hollow of his throat, ripping his sweater up as I move down and down. I want it off, but I can’t find the time to take it off, because my tongue’s on his skin now, and the line that runs down the centre of his body is so built, so pronounced, it’s like a one-way street, down and down. I circle his belly button, letting my hand cup his balls. His back arches on contact, his cock pushing up against my chest.
Finally, I ease back, stroking him with one hand while I let my hungry gaze fall on him.
Holy fuck.
He’s all pressed back against the cushions, eyes locked onto me, that gorgeous smile of his sublime with anticipation. His hoodie’s caught up around his shoulders, and the vast expanse of skin is like striking gold.
He’s got abs for days. His chest is built. He’s entirely sculpted. He is an Adonis, and I’m going to fuck this man.
It’s too much. I feel all at once like I have no right to touch him, like he’s far too beautiful for me. But when he presses his hips forward, there isn’t a thing I can do to resist. My head drops, kissing over the hills and valleys of his bare skin. His Adonis belt is irresistible to my lips, and I trace it, wanting to drown in the desperate sound he makes when my lips approach his cock.
But every piece of him is delicious, and if this is one night only, I’m not missing a thing. I start at the opposite hip, licking a line down that perfect diagonal groove, down, until a touch of hair meets my lips again, then down further, over the fabric of his track pants.
I drive a thumb up the side of his cock, massaging the rest with the close of my fist. My bottom lip wipes over precum, leaking through the fabric, and I kiss the top of his cock. “You’re so wet for me.”
His response is a hungry whine, a slight but desperate thrust forward. I wrap my mouth around his cock, through the fabric, sucking him, tasting him. Every day I saw him wearing these, his cock bouncing about the place, I never thought this would happen. I savour the sensation, August’s fingers grabbing at my neck, begging for more. I can’t resist a look up at him, letting my tongue drag across the cotton.
He’s an ocean of muscle, but there’s nothing so pretty as his parted lips, drawing deep breaths as he watches me. I drop a kiss on his cock, then wrap my fingers around his waistband. “Did you think of me last night?”
“Yes,” he breathes out fast.
“Did you watch yourself?”
A little twitch of his eyebrows pulls them down into a slight frown, like he’s not sure how to answer. I slide his pants down slowly, then pause just before I reveal his cock, waiting for his answer. “I did.”
“Tell me how beautiful you were.”
The tip of his cock slides free, and I can’t help but wonder, is it bigger than mine? He’s so much more built, so much more beautiful.
“It was you, August,” he says.
“It was you.” I place the first kiss on the side of his crown, soft and firm, throbbing for more of me. “You’re so perfectly fuckable.”
His words flow out on a needy sigh. “It was you. It was your lips. And your mouth. And August, oh fuck, August.” He falls apart beneath me as I take him in my mouth. What a glorious fantasy—that this man would ever look in the mirror and see me. Think of me. Want me. All while he’s fucking himself.
The taste of precum sends me wild, making me take him deeper, faster, but nothing so much as that image of him, stroking himself, on the phone to me, imagining me.
I want to be every thought that went through his mind last night, a dream come to life. Even if I am the low-rent version of him, he can close his eyes and pretend.
His hand’s in my hair, his words stroking me like his fingertips. “You’re so beautiful. Fuck, when you talked to me like that. I want to see you. Take it off. Take it off.” There’s a half-hearted pull at my shirt, and I’ll probably die if he sees enough to compare the two of us, so I wrap my hand tighter around his length to deepen his pleasure.
