COOPER
Cooking with a new lover was an intimate endeavor involving a certain amount of maneuvering and a measure of patience. There was no benefit of long-practiced choreography. No stock conversational tidbits about the weather, work, or the state of the nation. Just two people doing mundane tasks we’d done countless times in other lives. But this was uncharted territory.
For both of us.
And it felt suspiciously…cozy.
We ate a simple dinner of lemon chicken and quinoa with veggies in front of the TV with our feet propped on the coffee table, and talked about hockey and football—players’ stats, trades, and coaching issues. Silas shared his predictions and opinions about next season’s NFL draft prospects, marveled over signing bonuses, and the pressure young players were under to perform.
“Not easy for the old guys either,” he lamented.
“You’re not old.”
“I’ll be thirty-seven soon. That makes me a junior crypt keeper.”
I chuckled and scooted closer to him on the sofa, gliding my hand along his upper thigh and resting it on his cock. Like I’d wanted to do an hour ago.
“Thirty-seven is a spring chicken. When’s your birthday?”
“Your hand is on my dick, and you’re asking about my fucking birthday? My brain can’t compute. There’s a glitch in my software. I’m short-circuiting, malfunctioning.”
I stroked his hardening shaft. “Answer the question, Anderson.”
“May…something.”
I fondled his balls and massaged his perineum. “May what?”
“Mmm…the, um…twenty-second,” he rasped, lifting his ass off the cushions to wriggle his joggers and boxer briefs off. “I think.”
I hummed in approval, nibbling his earlobe and kissing his neck. “If you’re here, I’ll bake you a cake.”
“Uh…cake?”
“What kind do you like?” I bit his jaw, licked his neck, and stroked him.
“I-I don’t know. I…oh, fuck, that’s good.” Silas arched into my touch, spreading his thighs wide to give me access. “More.”
“Lick my palm.” I hummed my approval at his instant obedience. “Good boy.”
“Why does that turn me on?” he whimpered, closing his eyes.
It was a statement, not a question.
Silas was a wildly responsive lover. He didn’t hold anything back. If he wanted more, he said so. And he was always game to try something new. Even if that something meant giving up a little control.
“ ’Cause you want to be a good boy.”
“I’ll like it better if you suck my dick.” He wrapped his fingers around mine and pointed at my mouth. “Please.”
“Since you asked nicely…okay. But hands off. No touching yourself or me. Your job is to relax. Got it?”
Silas flashed a roguish lopsided grin as he cradled his head with both hands and sank deeper into the cushions. “No problem.”
I didn’t waste any time. I practically dove into his lap and swallowed him whole. It was a frenetic and fast-paced blowjob with questionable finesse. I wanted Silas wired and on edge. I wanted him desperate and pleading, begging for me to take him to the finish line.
He was there in a matter of minutes. His breath came in short, shallow pants, his hands hovering over my head, gaze glued to the action while he muttered a steady stream of profanity. I slowed my incessant bobbing and pulled off his dick with a pop.
“Still okay?”
