“Make them leave,” I said impatiently.
“I don’t mind if they stay.”
I was riled up enough that I no longer cared. They’d leave or stay according to their wishes. Arden peeled off his skin-tight pants and positioned himself on all fours in front of me on the bed. There was a dainty silicone plug already in place, and I imagined him hours ago, preparing himself for this very moment. I manipulated the toy with my thumb and forefinger, admiring the way it fit so snugly in his pretty, pink hole.
“You’ve had to sit with that for hours,” I said, liking the idea of it immensely.
He cast me a rakish smile over one shoulder. “I wanted to be ready for you.”
For me.I ran my hand along the slope of his back and squeezed one hamstring, then carefully removed the plug. His sphincter tightened at the loss, grasping for something else to clench. I slipped two lubed fingers inside to pet his prostate. Arden bayed like a wolf. I was a little light-headed as I positioned myself, inured to the conversation still happening around us and focused only on gratifying the man beneath me.
I entered him as a plow to a fallow field, overturning fresh, fertile soil and nudging my way inside. Arden pushed backward, and I pressed down on his sickle-shaped spine as his throat made sweet, contented noises. It began with tenderness, as it often did, but graduated to something animalistic as we gave way to our raw passions.
Distantly, remarks were made about my brutish technique, but I hardly cared. This man was mine, and I’d take him as such, plundering him as a bee to the bloom for that last drop of nectar.
Arden wasn’t shy about making his pleasure known, but it was no different than when we were alone in our bedroom. I leaned forward to stroke him, and Arden bore my weight. I whispered in his ear how good he felt, how wonderfully snug, a perfect fit. I told him I’d been dreaming of this moment all night. (Christ, my entire life.) And that I adored him.
“Come for me, Arden,” I said when he was close to peaking. He always came first, if I could help it, though he sometimes resisted. Out of politeness or because of his sex work, I didn’t know. But there was a knot inside him that must first be loosened and then unraveled. “Give it to me, baby. Don’t be shy.”
For all the noise he made in bed, his orgasms were usually dead silent. Intensely private, in a way. His cock jogged in my hand, his back stiffened, and at last, he spilled into my fist. I listened for the wheezing gasp which told me he’d returned from whatever celestial plane he’d been visiting and was breathing once more.
With a few more thrusts, the fever I’d been suffering all night, finally broke. I released into him, relishing that swampy, sticky heat, knowing he’d be soaking in it for a few hours at least. I stroked him gently a few more times, always reluctant to part from him entirely, then sat back and inspected my work. His bud was swollen and oozing like a milkweed. I put my thumb there and held it while Arden made soft murmurs of gratification.
“That was good, baby,” I said. “So good.”
He drew me to him, and we collapsed in a daze of sated lust. Arden produced a cigarette, and we smoked it at our leisure. Liam fussed about the smell. Franco and Marquis were otherwise engaged. My brain finally sobered up enough to tune into the conversation now taking place between Arden and Liam.
“But having sex in a professional capacity, how can a partner ever really know if your sentiments are sincere or only an act?”
“Liam,” I said, still trapped in a fog of pheromones.Shut the fuck up,was what I was about to say, but Arden laid a hand on my chest to silence me.
“You write poems for a living. Aren’t some of them more impassioned than others?” Arden asked.
“Yes, but all of them hold some truth.”
“I’m not deceiving the men I fuck. Some of them are more invested in my pleasure than others. And even when they’re not, that can be satisfying too.”
Do you like being used?
“Surely you must feel bad about it, though? Or bad about yourself?”
“Should a massage therapist feel bad for the services they provide?” Arden countered.
“That’s altogether different.”
“Both are arts of a sensual nature. Both tend to induce relaxation and mental well-being. The men I have sex with generally leave in a healthier state of mind. Am I not allowed to take some pride in a job well done?”
They were having an academic discussion about the one subject that for me, was forbidden.
“You enjoy fucking other men?” I asked, wanting to make sure I’d heard him correctly.
“Sometimes,” Arden said with very little inflection.
“I couldn’t do it,” Franco said, him and Marquis having surfaced from their lovemaking at last. “I’m way too jealous. I can hardly handle watching Marquis with other men at the club.”
“You get off on it,” Marquis said with a conceited smile. He winked at Arden and me. “He loves to punish me after.”
“I don’t,” I said hollowly. “Get off on the jealousy, I mean.” It was an admission I’d not made before then, and it seemed too monumental to ignore. Arden gave me a long, searching look, and I avoided his gaze.
