I put my hand in his hair. Couldn't not.
He bit the muscle above my nipple, not hard, just enough. His mouth moved lower, lips tracing the cut lines of my stomach, tongue following the path of the V downward until it hit the waistband of my underwear and stopped there.
I looked down at him. His face tipped up toward mine, mouth at my stomach, eyes completely dark.
His hands went to my belt.
He worked it open with the same unhurried focus he'd brought to everything else tonight, fingers steady where mine would have shaken, and pulled it free of the loops and dropped it on the floor. The button of my jeans next. The zipper.His eyes stayed on my face through all of it, watching every microexpression, reading me the way he always had.
He pulled the jeans down my thighs. I lifted slightly off the table's edge to let them go, and they pooled around my feet and he crouched and got them off entirely and then stayed there.
On his knees. Looking up at me.
I'd never had a man on his knees in front of me before. The thought arrived with a clarity that was almost physical. Troy seemed to read it on my face because something in his expression shifted, the heat still there but something more careful underneath it.
“First time,” he said. Not a question.
My jaw tightened. “Yeah.”
He held my gaze for a moment. Then turned his face into the inside of my thigh and pressed his lips there and exhaled slow and warm against the skin, and whatever I'd been about to say dissolved entirely.
His hands moved up the outsides of my thighs. He leaned in and pressed his nose against the crease where my thigh met my groin, right at the edge of the underwear, and breathed in deep and slow.
“Troy—”
“Quiet.” His hands gripped my thighs harder. He breathed in again, longer, his nose moving along the cotton, and a sound left his throat that was low and private and completely unguarded. “You have no idea,” he said into my skin, muffled, “how many times I've thought about this. About you. About exactly this.”
I could feel the warmth of his breath through the cotton. Feel exactly how close his mouth was to where I was already thickening, the blood making slow decisions my brain hadn't caught up to authorizing. The fabric was doing nothing. He had to feel it.
He did.
His lips pressed against the outline of me through the underwear. Open-mouthed. Feeling the shape of it, the weight, his hands flat on my thighs keeping me exactly where he wanted me. I pulled in a breath through my teeth.
His tongue pressed flat against the cotton, tracing up the length of me slowly, and I felt the wet heat of it through the thin fabric and my hand went into his hair without any decision being made about it.
He mouthed at me through the underwear, lips and tongue working, and I was fully hard now, straining against the cotton, leaking enough that a damp spot was spreading through the fabric and his tongue found it immediately and pressed there and made a sound of low, rough approval.
“Already soaked,” he said against me. “Fuck, look at you.”
My other hand gripped the table edge hard enough to whiten my knuckles.
He pulled the waistband down. Slow. My cock came free and he wrapped one hand around the base and just held me there for a moment, looking, and the expression on his face was the same one I'd seen when he'd pressed his lips to my palm.
Then his tongue dragged up the underside from base to tip in one flat, devastating stroke.
My head dropped back. The sound I made wasn't a word.
He did it again. Slower. Lips following where his tongue had gone, kissing along the vein, and when he reached the head he pressed his lips to the wet slit and sucked gently and collected what had gathered there and made a sound like it was the best thing he'd ever tasted.
“You're soaking,” he said against the head. “First time with a man and you're already dripping for it.” His fist worked the base in a slow twist. “Your body knows what it wants even if you're still catching up.”
His fingers hooked the waistband where it had already slid halfway down my thighs and drew it the rest of the way. Slow. Unhurried. Watching my face the whole time until the cotton cleared my knees and he let it drop.
His hand was still wrapped around the base of me and he squeezed once, like he was checking the reality of it, and then looked up at me with dark eyes and a smirk that went straight to my spine. “Im going to ruin you.”
Before I could form a response his mouth closed over the head of me.
The sound I made hit the kitchen ceiling.
