And this was a transaction, pure and simple. Not a date. Not romance. Just one man doing another man a service for cash.
It was freeing in a way.
He sucked along the length of me, making my toes curl in my shoes. I threaded my fingers in his hair and held on. “Just like that. Fuck, that’s good.”
Jett’s talented mouth made me feel things I hadn’t felt before. Sensual pleasure, yes, but it was more than that.
Freedom from social norms.
Curiosity.
Was this why so many men hired sex workers? So they could take their pleasure as they wanted it without any concern for reciprocation?
But even as I thought that, I couldn’t help but imagine what it would be like to reciprocate with Jett. What would that look like? What made him feel good?
As soon as the tip of his tongue hit just the right spot under the tip of my cock, I stopped thinking about anyone’s pleasure but my own. My balls were full and tight, brushing against Jett’s pointed chin when he slid the flat of his tongue down my cock at a certain angle before taking it in his mouth again and dropping over it until the tip was in his throat.
The sound of him happily gagging on my cock was what pushed me over the edge, releasing my orgasm like flicking open a pressure switch. I cried out and cursed as the feeling overtook my entire body, my cum spilling into the man’s throat.
The man.
Theman.
In that moment, I didn’t give a single shit. Only that I felt incredible, my headache was nearly gone, and I had a warm, wet tongue bathing me gently as I came down from the momentary high.
Impossible blue eyes peered up at me. And that’s when I noticed several things at once.
Jett’s cheeks were flushed pink, his eyes glassy with need, and his hand was in his open pants, jacking himself rhythmically.
I stared at the opening of his pants, at the faint peek of the tip of his erection as it poked out from his closed fist. His groan filled the kitchen as he sank lower and rested his head against one of my thighs.
His free hand still held on to one side of my ass, something I hadn’t noticed earlier. Now I noticed every millimeter of the connection, his strong fingertips dangerously close to the cleft between my cheeks.
The moment became uncomfortable quickly. Reality crashed down as I realized not only did I have a sexual encounter with a man, which wasn’t something I was into, but also that I had a sex worker in my house.
What the fuck had gotten into me? If I wanted a blow job, I could have picked up any woman at any bar between Rutherford’s and here.
But when the softest whimper escaped Jett and his glassy eyes sought mine, something in my gut anchored me there to watch. To bear witness to his pleasure and take a little bit of pride in the fact his orgasm wasmine. He was coming because ofme. Because he’d found satisfaction in pleasingme.
When his orgasm hit, he didn’t cry out or grunt. His whimper turned to a soft keening noise, as if he was trying to stay quiet and keep his reaction to himself.
“Give it to me,” I growled, glaring down at him. “That orgasm’s mine. I want itnow.”
The noise turned into a cry as his hand tightened on my ass, and another spurt of cum spilled from his cock onto his fist. His entire body shuddered as he laid his head on my thigh again.
I ran my hand through his hair and murmured. “Now who’s the good boy?”
What the fuck am I saying?
Another soft sound escaped him as his breathing slowed. I cleared my throat and leaned over the counter to grab a dish towel, handing it down to him before tucking myself away and yanking up my pants.
“I’ll call Demarius to meet you outside. He’ll take you home.”
He stood and wiped his hands quickly, tossed the used towel in the nearby sink, before straightening his clothes and zipping his pants.
“Appreciate it, man. Take care.” He turned toward the stairs, seemingly unbothered by my dismissiveness.
“Wait,” I said, reaching for my wallet. I pulled out ten hundred-dollar bills and handed them over. “Thank you.”
