“Freddie—”
He’s already slid down my body and pushed my grey shorts and underwear down. “I can’t hear you!” he sing-songs and gives my cock a loving kiss on the head, absurd man that he is. “And if you’re good for me and come soon, I’ll let you fuck me when we’re done painting.”
“Fuck!” It comes out almost a shout, though whether from the promise or the sensation of my dick being swallowed in one go, I’m not sure. Freddie deepthroats me like he’s never done anything else and I scramble to keep my senses about me.
We’ve never talked about roles in the bedroom. It just naturally happened that I bottomed—including with all the other guys I’ve been with. I tried it, I liked it, so why change? But now Freddie has put the idea out there and it sounds super hot. The mental image of Freddie underneath me, his usually cocky face flush with arousal, moaning, opening for me—fuck. My groan is obscenely loud.
Freddie looks up at me and catches my gaze, his look knowing, his head never stopping its full-on assault on my dick. It’s like he knows what’s in my head. And he’s definitely enjoying the images he put there. The fantasies I never knew I needed.
It’s probably the fastest orgasm I’ve head since I was a teen, but I don’t have it in me to be embarrassed about it. This is Freddie bloody Bloom, after all. Once he’s set his mind on something, there’s no backing down.
He swallows everything I give him, then licks his lips and beams at me. “How fast was that?”
I laugh, helplessly. “I didn’t start a timer!” Then I reach for him, suddenly full of tenderness for this man, this whirlwind who makes my life better every single day. “But you definitely won the bet.”
Freddie sighs happily and snuggles up to me for a moment, breathing in deeply. “I love it when a plan works out.” He’s fully dressed and untouched, so I venture a hand down his stomachto give him relief as well. Before I can slip my fingers inside the waistband of his running shorts, though, he grabs me and holds me back. “Don’t.”
“But—”
He looks at me with unexpected earnestness. “I want to save it. For later. I know it’s going to be amazing and I want to be ready to burst when it happens.”
Fuck, that’s—I don’t know. Sweet, in a way. A little weird. Certainly unusual. And damn hot. So, a perfect epitome of Freddie as a person. I plant a kiss on his hair, then another and another. I know I should stop. I know we need to get up and paint if we want to get anything done, but I just can’t. I can’t voluntarily give up this cosiness, his warmth against me. His happiness radiates off him, almost tangible. “God, I hate you,” I mumble and pull him close.
He snorts. “Yeah, must be tough to be you.”
“How am I supposed to get up and be productive, now?” I complain, woefully. “You drained me.”
Freddie pushes himself up on one elbow and bites my nipple through my shirt, not particularly softly.
“Ow!” I jerk away from him and he pushes against my back, getting me to a half-sitting position.
“There you go.” He smiles up at me like butter wouldn’t melt. “Happy to be of service.”
I’m torn between laughing and being mad at him, but I don’t stand a chance against his face. The summer sun has drawn a handful of freckles on his skin and they make him even more irresistible. “Oh my god, you are the worst,” I say, but we both know I don’t mean it.
“Tell you what.” He seems completely unbothered by the insult. “We’ll make it a game of strip painting. That way, we’ll work even faster than we would otherwise. And then we havemore time for the good stuff.” He waggles his eyebrows and I can only shake my head at him, then hold out a hand to pull him up.
“How would you even play? There’s no stakes, like in poker.”
He lets himself be pulled into my arms, then shrugs. “We’ll figure it out,” he says cheerfully. “The main thing is to get naked. Rules aren’t important.”
But they are, I want to protest, but even I know when I’m in danger of being too much of a goodie two shoes, so I shut my mouth and pull Freddie with me towards the living room.
CHAPTER 19
Freddie
I know,in theory, that we’re both millionaires. In reality, it hasn’t changed my life much. I bought a house for my parents, who were still living in the council housing flat I grew up in, and then one for DJ’s parents. Because I can do those things now.
But still, I sometimes forget. It’s nice for things like finding and buying a new place, which Marlon did in record time, but I mostly still wear my old clothes and go to the same restaurants.
Marlon’s flat though… that’s full-on millionaire shit. “Damn.” I can’t help but be impressed as he leads me through his new place. Floor-to-ceiling windows, dark brown wooden floors, beautiful, brand new white furniture, plants and paintings and all kinds of expensive but not gaudy-looking stuff, and it feels…grown up.
Nothing like my place, stuffed full of old furniture and cozy carpets inherited from Hadidja’s parents. I like it, even though I don’t imagine I’ll spend a lot of time there going forward. Hadidja is completely cool—and happy for me—about the whole Marlon situation, but I don’t want to put her through having to hear our sex noises.
Besides, I think she’ll be making her own sex noises with her girlfriend soon enough, and I’m happy to leave them to it. Itwould be like hearing my little sister boning and I’m perfectly fine never experiencing that.
Marlon practically glows with pride as he stands in the middle of his huge living room, flooded in sunlight. “It’s all right, isn’t it?”
