“Then observe me eating this last one,” he says cheekily as his hand darts out quick as can be, and he snatches it with a shit-eating grin. My laugh booms around the space.
He twists it open slowly, eyes flicking up to mine with a bold glimmer I don’t see often but love every time it appears. My pulse jumps as he drags his tongue over the icing, unhurried, wet, deliberate, never breaking eye contact.
His lips glisten under the warm light, his tongue sweeping the frosting slowly enough to make my cock ache. Heat flares low in my core, hard and instant, but what destroys me is knowing this isGabe—my sweet, quiet Gabe—being filthy just for me.
“Baby…” My voice comes out like gravel.
He hums softly, licking again, his gaze dark and steady on mine. “What?” he asks, feigning innocence but dripping with mischief. “You look like you’re enjoying the show.”
I circle the island slowly, needing to be closer, every muscle tight with restraint.
I dip my head, brushing my lips against his cheek, my breath hot in his ear. “Do you know what you’re doing to me?” I rasp, my cock straining against my shorts.
“Yeah,” he whispers, cheeks flushed but gaze holding, a flicker of shy boldness in his voice.
I kiss him, deep and sensual, tasting sugar and Gabe, our tongues sliding together. My hands find his hips, holding him as his unrestrained whimper shoots straight to my cock. Fuck, thetrust it takes for him to be like this with me—it makes my chest burn hotter than any lust ever has.
When fingers tug at my waistband, he glances at me for silent permission. I cup his cheek, thumb brushing his scar. “What do you want, baby?” I murmur.
“I want you in my mouth,” he says before sinking to his knees.
I feel like I’ve died and gone to heaven. He palms my cock through the material, and my eyes nearly roll back from the simple touch, then with one hand, he tugs my shorts and briefs down together.
I struggle to breathe as he looks up through dark lashes, deliberate, sinful, dragging his tongue over the Oreo one last time before tossing it aside and replacing it with the head of my cock. The first wet lick makes me swear under my breath, hand tangling gently in his hair.
“Fuck, Gabe…” My voice is already wrecked as he wraps his lips around me, sucking greedily, tongue swirling over the sensitive underside. I let my head fall back, hips twitching but holding still, giving him control. My fingers tighten slightly in his hair, a soft encouragement.
He’s thorough, filthy, and intentional, pulling back with a slow suck, only to lick up my length again, eyes locked on mine like he wants me to watch every second of it. My cock pulses in his mouth, my balls are heavy and aching as his lips slide down me again, cheeks hollowing, saliva making every movement obscene, wet sounds echoing in the quiet kitchen.
“Baby… feels so good,” I pant, my thighs trembling beneath his palms. His tongue teases my slit before he’s swallowing me down again, deeper this time, making me breathe out a harsh moan.
The sight of him like this—flushed, needy, on his knees for me—has my climax barreling toward me. I can’t stop murmuring his name, praise spilling out in a rough whisper. “So perfect, baby…fuck, you wreck me.”
When I come, it’s with a guttural moan, my whole body shaking, hand clenching in his hair as pleasure rips through me. Gabe swallows me down, licking me clean before pulling back, lips swollen and glistening, eyes blown wide with heat and a hint of shy satisfaction.
I drag him to his feet immediately, kissing him deeply, tasting myself and sugar on his tongue. My hands frame his face, forehead pressed to his. “That mouth’s so fucking good, Gabe,” I whisper breathlessly, knowing I’ll never take him for granted.
The kitchen is still heavy with the heat of what we’ve just done, Gabe’s eye are glazed over, his cheeks a perfect shade of pink. I’m burning up looking at him like this, knowing he’s got that blissed-out expression on his face because of me. I murmur against his lips, “Let me take care of you now.”
He hesitates, eyes flicking away for a second, throat working like he’s trying to force words past nerves. I wait, giving him space, keeping my palm steady on his hip.
Finally, he whispers, barely audible, “Would you”—he takes a shaky breath—“rim me?” His voice trembles, his lashes lowering like he can’t bear to meet my gaze as he blinks rapidly. Heat and tenderness flood me at once. I know how much courage it takes for him to ask, how much trust sits in those words.
“Are you sure?” I ask because I have to. I’ve avoided touching him there after he panicked the first time I did. I don’t want him to feel pressured or think this is something we have to do.
He nods his head, chest moving quickly. “Yes, I’m sure.” He chews his lip before adding, “I’ve never done it before.”
I groan at the thought of being the first person,the only person, to give this to Gabe.
He continues, “And I, um… I had—” He shakes his head, cheeks glowing before clearing his throat. “I had a shower before you got home.”
Oh. Oh, fuck. He really has been thinking about this, wanting this.
“Fucking hell, baby,” I groan loudly. “You’re gonna make me hard again.”
He laughs, still staring at the floor. I tilt his chin up, making sure he sees the way I’m looking at him—soft, adoring, consumed with want and love. “Gabe,” I murmur, kissing him again, soft passes of lips. “Thank you for telling me.” I brush my nose against his. “All you ever have to do is ask, and it’s yours. I’ll give you anything. Everything.”
51
