Twisting his grip and bouncing his wrist slowly, Stone pulls me toward the edge of my orgasm. I match his rhythm the best I can, but the explosions of pleasure threaten to overwhelm me. There’s a cliff that I’m dancing on the edge of, and with every flare of heat, I’m toeing closer to climax.
Unable to do anything but moan, I grab his hand and pull it to my lips, sucking his fingers into my mouth again. “I’m close,” I gasp, my hips jerking up with hard spasms. “I’m close.”
Stone slaps his cock down on mine and keeps stroking us. The hot pressure is everywhere, and my legs kick out as his deep voice rumbles through his chest. “Fucking hot,” he groans. “You’re so fucking hot, Matty.”
Hearing my name on his lips sends me spiraling into pure sensation. My cock pulses hard, and my balls clench tight. Our eyes burn into each other, and I watch his face break open, a million emotions swirling through his gaze.
It’s all I need. I fuck Stone’s fist hard and spray, shooting one sticky jet after another onto my stomach while I scream his name.
Stone drags his wet fingers from my lips and falls down against me, my release hot between us. I can’t see or think. I just need to keep feeling him as I latch my lips onto his neck and lick his sweat.
“Jeremiah would definitely hate this,” I joke.
Stone chuckles. “Yeah, he would. Hold on, let me get you a towel.”
I grab his arm before he can pull away. It’s actually not surprising that Stone is the kind of guy who would get me off without trying to demand his own orgasm immediately, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to let him get away so easily.
“Nope,” I say. “Right here.”
He hovers over me, one eyebrow raised. “Right here?”
“Fake or not, I’m going to make sure my boyfriend is satisfied.”
CHAPTERTWELVE
STONE
This is nothow I expected my Saturday to end.
I was supposed to be tattooing at the convention, not naked at home with Matty, covered in his sticky cum and loving it.
At least it was better than drowning my problems in a pitcher of cheap beer. If I had known years ago that gay sex was such a fun distraction, I would have saved myself a hell of a lot of hangovers.
Funisn’t exactly the right way to describe it, though. The way Matty moves underneath my body and demands what he wants, that sassy glint in his eyes the whole time, we’ve gone well beyond fun.
This is fucking hot, and it feels so right, it would scare me if I had time to think.
Luckily, with fat drops of pearly precum dripping down my shaft, there’s no time for thinking left.
“I want to taste you,” Matty says. His bright blue hair is messed up, and his lips are red and raw. Sweat glistens on his face, and his eyes burn with just as much intensity as they did before he pumped jizz into my fist.
“Taste me?” I ask, even though I know exactly what he means.
I’ve just never heard anyone demand it so clearly.
Maybe this is how gay guys talk in bed, or maybe it’s just how Matty talks. I don’t really care; I just know it’s fucking hot.
He squeezes out from under me and slides to the floor. “I want to taste all of you,” he says as he pulls my legs out. My bare feet land on the floor, and he positions himself between my legs, a hand on each of my thighs. His black-painted nails drag over my short, curly hairs, and my cock pulses in response.
“Damn,” I grunt. Just his touch is enough to drive me toward climax.
What does it mean that I like this so much? That I like him so much?
When Matty drags his tongue up the inside of my thigh, the warm wetness chases those thoughts away. This means everything and nothing at the same time.
It just means that I need him, and I need him now.
“Matty,” I groan as my legs tense and stretch out on either side of him.
