I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry. I was swimming in unfamiliar waters, and normally my first response would be a smartass joke to lighten the moment. But a bigger part of me wanted to give in and let him take care of me. Like he’d been doing for the last three days.
“You don’t have to do that, but I’m not gonna argue with you.”
His face broke into a smile. “That’s a first. Maybe I should take a picture to commemorate the moment.”
“Now who’s the smartass,” I said, taking a bite of my pizza. I’d never admit that I loved the way he could read me so well and diffuse my anxiety.
We watched the game while we ate and settled into a comfortable conversation about baseball and the teams we thought would make it to the World Series. And when we were finished eating, he took our plates, the box, and empty bottles to the kitchen.
I stood to stretch as he returned. He tossed a bottle on the sofa, then took the hem of my shirt in his hands. “Take it off, please.”
I blinked at him, hung up in his eyes, as he smiled. “You don’t want massage oil all over it. It might stain.”
Nodding, I took it and tossed it on the sofa. “Where do you want me?”
He grinned. “Between my legs on the floor.”
There were so many lewd jokes running through my head, but for the first time, maybe in forever, I just wanted to comply. So I got on the floor and leaned against the sofa between his legs.
The soft snap of the bottle lid caught my attention until his big warm hands worked on the taut tendons in my neck. He massaged the sore muscles at the base of my skull, then worked his way down to my neck and shoulders.
“That feels so fucking good,” I groaned as he worked out the lactic acid that had lingered in my body.
John chuckled as he bent down and kissed the side of my neck. The rasp of his beard against my skin sent shivers over my skin and up and down my spine.
I lifted my arm and ran my fingers through his hair as his hands worked down my arms, squeezing and massaging the soreness away. I didn’t want him to stop.
“John,” I moaned as he left open-mouthed kisses along my jaw and bit lightly on my earlobe. He was hitting every erogenous zone I had.
“Take yourself out,” he whispered into my ear as his hands left my body.
My cock was already hard as I hurried to unbutton them before I blew in my pants.
“I’m so hard,” I said between shuddered breaths.
“I know, sweetheart.”
With my cock out in my hand, my head fell back against him as he brought the bottle of Almond Oil around in front of me to drizzle more over my dick.
“Hold it until I tell you to move,” he whispered again.
I nodded as I tried to breathe. This bossy side of him was really working for me.
“What if I can’t?”
His arms went over my shoulders as I watched him drizzle more into his hand. John sat the bottle down and rubbed his hands together before sliding his oily hands over my shoulders and down my chest.
“I won’t let you cum, sweetheart.” He bit my earlobe, sending a new wave of chills over my skin.
Long fingers massaged my ribs and down my sides while my eyes rolled in the back of my head. I tried to absorb the sensation as pre-cum bubbled up like magma and leaked from the head of my dick.
“John…”
“I know. One minute. I’m getting there.”
An eternity later, he finally wrapped his big hand over mine as we jerked me off together with long, slow motions. And when his left hand went to my jaw and turned my face to him, he stared into my eyes. “Let go, sweetheart.”
He took my mouth in a different kind of kiss, and I let go, my cum releasing from me as unwanted tears slid down my face.
