He cries out, swears, and I’m here for it. August writhing on the couch beneath my lips. August thrusting up into my mouth. August ripping his fingers through my hair, and begging now, “Stop, August. I’ll come. Stop.” But he pulls my hair, and he fucks my mouth, and I’ll let him decide if he really wants to stop. He can do anything he likes. If he wants to shoot his load in my mouth and call it a night, I’ll say thank you and leave perfectlysatisfied. Then spend the next year thinking of this, getting off every night to the thought of him.
I almost want it to go that way. Some self-defeating part of me wanting him to confirm the worst. This couldn’t happen. He couldn’t be for me. He doesn’t want me like that, and I can move on and try to forget that I ever felt this way.
“August,” he whispers. His hand beneath my chin pulls me, guides me up, bringing my lips back to his, such a heated kiss that he presses back against, the brute strength of him that’s always under wraps forcing me up, his fingers at the button of my shirt.
I clasp a hand over his, kissing him back, stopping him.
“What’s wrong?” he whispers, breathless. When he pulls back, his face is instant concern, like he could ever have done a thing wrong.
“Nothing.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah.” I lean in, and he takes my mouth again, like he owns the damn thing, which he does. But then that hand on my buttons. I catch it.
He breaks the kiss. This time he says nothing, that too-bright mind working it over. Then, “Are you shy?”
His words are half disbelief, but good-humoured. We both know how ridiculous this situation is. In theory.
“Um. No.”
That sly grin of his. “I’ll go first.”
His top’s on the floor in a second, and that is not helping. This man has muscles all down his arms. He’s firm and delicious in places I didn’t know people could be firm and delicious. His skin’s tanned and fully naked on top. I feel like I’m in the wrong place. Like I’m the coffee boy who’s accidentally walked onto the set of the hottest porno ever made.
August shifts a little closer, his knee resting across my thigh. “You don’t need to be shy with me.”
“That’s very easy for you to say.” I can’t help the way my eyes dip to his bulging chest as I say it.
That head tilt he does. I wish I could bottle it. His tongue passes lightly over his lips, and he focuses on my top button, fingers working it slowly. “This is my body. You know that.”
“It’s not.”
“It is.” The first button comes undone, and even if I’m anxious, I don’t stop him this time. “It’s just skin and muscle.” The second button, and I almost pause him, but he’s gentle, and he’s so kind. “It’s just sit-ups and time, and a lot of protein. It doesn’t change what’s underneath.” The next button falls away with so many guards I’ve tried to put up between us. “It’s you I like, August. I like your brain…” Another button, “I like your eyes, and I like your words, and I like the way you treat me…” Another button, with a kiss and the closely whispered words, “I like your mouth when it’s on my cock.” With the final button, he rips my shirt wide open, taking in my exposed body with a hungry look. “And I like that you’re really fucking hot.”
His head dips, teeth clamp down on my nipple, and— “Fuck, August!” I cry out.
A finger on my lips, his face close, his smile cheeky. “Shhh. I have neighbours.”
He clearly gives zero fucks about that, because he kicks the coffee table away from the couch with a crash, then drops his track pants to the floor. I have mere seconds to take in the beauty of his naked form before he falls down between my knees and rips my belt open.
“August,” I sort of vaguely protest.
Then my pants are undone, and his gorgeous wrist muscles are flexing as he yanks my trousers down. All the way. Down andoff and gone, and we’re both naked, and he shoots one enticing, desirous, gorgeous look up at me, then takes my dick.
Holy fuck.There aren’t words to describe this. His mouth feels like all the ice of my soul melting into his fire. Every piece of me dissolves into him at the first touch. My eyes drop closed as he works a trail of pleasure through my core, up my back, down my arms, my thighs screaming for him when he sinks his fingers in, pushing them wide, my toes curling, all of me taut and coiled and ready to shatter.
It’s too much, instantly and all at once too much, and all I can do is hold on to him, ground myself through the strands of soft hair, force my eyes open to break back into reality.
Bad idea.
August’s stretched out, his back long and all muscle, his ass on display, moving with the rhythm of his lips. I want to sink into him. I want him to scream my name when I fuck him. But my eyes flutter closed again, and it’s flashes of him in his tight crop top, his eyes just before I kissed him, when he knew I was about to, his smile, always so bright, that little frown when I was sucking his dick.
I can’t do it. I can’t take this. “Let me fuck you.”
A knowing chuckle vibrates through my dick, but he doesn’t change his madness-inducing movement. Why is he so good at this? Is it practice? Or…
Then it occurs to me.
