We make out and kiss and lick each other for a long time. So long that my balls are aching and my whole body feels hotter than the flames in the fireplace. “There’s way too much clothing in the way.”
The weight of Chase’s body is suddenly gone, as is his mouth, and I look up to see him sitting between my legs unbuttoning his shirt. He hastily shrugs out of it, balling it up and tossing it to the floor, and then his hands are shoving my own shirt up and undoing my belt. He gets my belt undone, and I pull myself up and lift my shirt over my head. Before my head is even free of the fabric, I feel his tongue against my left nipple and I groan. That makes him bite and white-hot lust runs like an electrical current from his teeth to my balls.
I want to reach for his belt. I want to tug his pants off. I want to kiss him again, long and deep, and fuck him with my tongue the way I also want to fuck him with my cock, but Chase is determined to control this. And who am I to argue? He moves his mouth to my other nipple and growls. “Lift your hips.”
When I obey, he yanks my pants and underwear down to my knees. My bare ass meets the smooth velvet as his hands crawl up my thighs and his teeth nip my sensitive flesh. “I want you to fuck my mouth.”
I like a man who knows what he wants. “Kiss me first.”
He finds his way back to my mouth. The bare skin against bare skin, chest-to-chest, is enough to make me groan but then he presses his hand palm down onto my cock between us and groaning is unavoidable. “You’re thick,” he whispers against my lips, sounding a little surprised. I get it. My frame is lean and almost wiry so the thickness and length of my cock surprises men.
My hands want to get his pants off too, so I can take another look at what is wedged up against my thigh. That first glimpse when he dropped his towel wasn’t nearly enough. I manage to only get his jeans over his ass cheeks when his fingers curl around my shaft and he starts stroking me. Then I’m suddenly in quicksand, being sucked down by my desire and unable to do anything else but let it consume me. He kisses my neck, my collarbone, my shoulder, and his lips dance across my nipple again before continuing their descent. I shove my fingers into his hair as his tongue gives my head a long, slow lick. My pre-cum glistens against his lips in the light from the fire.
It’s been four months since my last hook-up, but that feels like four years all of a sudden and this… this is going to be something special. I know it instantly, from just that one slow pass of his tongue. Chase’s lips circle my tip and then move lower as he takes me into his mouth at a teasingly slow pace, centimeter by centimeter, his tongue swirling and swirling over my shaft and Jesus, I am dying the best possible death right now.
I arch my back, tipping my head back onto the arm of the couch and fisting his hair between my fingers. I bend and wiggle my knee until I get my right leg free of my pants and underwear and drop my foot to the floor. He pulls his mouth off my cock just long enough to reposition himself in the vacant space between my legs and repeats his first request. “Fuck my mouth, Bowen.”
And then, when his lips hit my tip, I do what he wants. I start pushing myself in and out of his mouth. I’m careful and measured at first, making sure to keep my thrusts gentle and not too swift but his tongue is doing such magical work and there’s this perfect amount of suck and pressure… and then I make the mistake of opening my eyes and looking at him.
His eyes are open, darkened with desire and staring right at me. “You’re fucking magic,” I whisper. “You suck my cock like you were born for it.”
I push my hips up again and he bears down, taking me right to the back of his throat and that’s it. I can’t play it cool a second longer. I hold the back of his head and pump faster and harder and he moans in approval against my shaft and my balls tighten. I somehow find enough common sense to warn him. “Gonna come.”
That doesn’t make him move away. I’m so lost I can’t keep my pace, so he starts sucking and licking faster, I’m gone before I even know it. I come with the force of a rocket blasting off into space. My eyes snap shut, my mouth drops open, my voice catches in my throat garbling whatever words were trying to escape. Chase swallows every last drop that spills from my body. When everything stops tingling, and my heart stops trying to crack my rib cage wide open, my eyes find him. He’s leaning back against the other side of the couch, head tilted back, pumping his own cock with abandon. I pull myself off the couch, push his thighs apart, and kneel between them. In a raspy whisper I tell him, “My turn.”
7
CHASE
Carter hands me the samples and Auden watches us with his arms folded over his broad chest. I glance at him and smile. He half smiles back. “Don’t know why he didn’t just ask me directly.”
“Maybe because you scare the hell out of him?” Carter, Auden’s boyfriend and business partner in Imprescott Designs, replies with a wink. Auden rolls his eyes. “Don’t you scowl at him all the time since he nailed you in the face with that champagne cork?”
“It hurt.”
“Honestly, Auden, he doesn’t even know I’m here,” I explain, trying to make sure there’s no extra tension for Bowen when they work together again. “I asked him about his brother’s campaign the other night after band practice and he said Woody wouldn’t do posters so I thought this would be a good solution.”
Carter walks over and pats Auden on his shoulder. “Maybe don’t be so scary.”
Carter kisses Auden’s cheek and I look away. I’m not uncomfortable with their affection. I’m jealous. I wonder if I’ll ever be able to be that open with my sexuality. I promised myself that as soon as that inheritance is in my bank account, I’ll be out and proud. But sometimes I worry I’ve been hiding myself for so long that I’ll just keep doing it out of habit. And then I worry that by the time this charade ends, I won’t have someone I can kiss on the cheek in front of my friends.
“Chase?” Auden says, and I realize I’ve been staring off into space.
“Yeah. Sorry.” I clear my throat. “I’m going to head out. I’m sure Bowen’s brother will get back to you with one of these options. Thanks again for the samples.”
I tuck the paper into my messenger bag. Carter shakes my hand. “I think he’s got some good ideas, even if he seems a little rough around the edges in his interviews.”
“Yeah.” I nod but the truth is, I’ve been ignoring the election coverage. My business takes up most of my free time and the rest of it I spend on music. Also, I just assumed I would vote for Lacey since she’s a family friend. Now, I realize, I have stronger ties to her opponent. Because Lacey wasn’t the one to give me the best blow job of my life.
I give them both a final wave and head out of the press shop, making my way toward my office. It’s a bit of an ominous looking day with gray clouds hovering low in the sky. The air is heavy, like rain is imminent and I didn’t bring an umbrella so I should probably pick up the pace, but I don’t. The sooner I get back to the office, the sooner I have to concentrate on work, and I’d rather walk slowly and reminisce about the other night.
Screwing around with Bowen was supposed to be like it always is with my hook-ups — quick and simple gratification. I always make it clear that I’m a one and done guy. I never explain why and no one has ever asked. And it hasn’t been a hardship to walk away after even the most satisfying hook-up. I’ve always felt like once was enough. It got me off and I moved on until the urge came again. And when it did, it was never for someone I’d already been with. But for the last three nights since we hooked up, Bowen Whitlock is all I think about.
The way his mouth tastes, the feel of his long, silky hair tickling my thighs as he bobbed up and down on my cock. The little confident smirk on his lips after I came. The way he wiped his thumb across his bottom lip and then pushed my hair back off my forehead and planted a kiss on it as I floated back to earth post-orgasm. As soon as he got dressed and headed out the door, I wanted to drag him back in and do more. I thought maybe the feeling would ease with a few days distance, but it hasn’t. I’m positively itching to see him again.
I open the door to Dauntless and the receptionist smiles at me. “Grant has news for you.”
“Thanks, Betty,” I say, and she nods her gray head. Betty is sixty-six. She’s a retired communications professor from Moo U. She was one of my favorite teachers when I went there. I ran into her a couple weeks after I opened Dauntless, and she told me how much she hated retirement and how she wanted something to do part-time. I offered her a job consulting with us, which she also does, but she says she prefers answering the phones and making coffee because it’s simple and she likes taking care of us. She works three days a week and an intern manages the front desk the other two.
