Paul squeezed his hand between them to pull their cocks through the openings in their flimsy boxers, wrapping around both and sliding them provocatively together.
Alex hissed in pleasure, his mouth descending again in a demanding kiss, matching the rhythm of their bodies. Paul released their cocks and rocked their hips together. His image brought to mind a straight-laced librarian, but in bed he burned hotter than any club trick Alex had ever encountered, all the more enticing because he didn’t do casual fucks. Having someone everyone else couldn’t have was a heady rush, fueling Alex’s libido and ego.
Fingers tangling in a rich mass of silky mahogany strands, he caressed Paul’s tongue with his own, pulling it into his mouth and suckling, imitating a far more intimate act. He smiled at his partner’s lusty groan. Slowly sliding down the tempting body beneath him, Alex moaned, his hard flesh finding friction against toned runner’s thighs. If Paul could lay waste to his shirt, turnabout was fair play—he grabbed hold of Paul’s cotton boxers and split the fabric apart with a satisfying rip, hoping they weren’t the royal blue ones. Before Paul could protest, Alex took half of that amazingly full cock into his mouth, rolling his tongue around the head and working the underside with steady laps of his tongue.
Paul bucked and Alex grasped his hips, holding him in place and making him wait, to repay Paul’s teasing during their last encounter. A frustrated whine was music to Alex’s ears. Desire took precedence over finesse, and he worked Paul’s cock like an eager novice, gaining as much pleasure from the giving as he would have from the receiving.
“I want you,” Paul gasped. “Let me play too!”
Never breaking his rhythm, Alex shifted until his cock hovered inches above Paul’s lips, slightly out of reach. Powerful arms wrapped around his hips, and with one swift lunge, his cock sank into Paul’s mouth clear down to the root. Paul hummed with Alex buried deep in his throat.
If Alex hadn’t known better, he might have thought Paul the slut he’d once accused the man of being. Now he understood that Paul’s expertise wasn’t the result of numerous partners. Any prowess stemmed from the fact that whatever Paul Sinclair did, he gave his all, wholehearted enthusiasm making up for any lack of skill.
The pent-up frustrations and sexual tensions of the past few weeks resolved with Alex and Paul thrashing upon the bed. Climax building, it took every ounce of willpower for Alex to pull away. “Not like this,” he growled, crawling up the bed to gaze into lust-glazed eyes. “Can I fuck you?”
“No,” Paul replied matter-of-factly.
What the hell? The man had teased him and brought him to the edge and…. Suddenly, the proverbial light came on, and Alex amended his question. “Can I make love to you?”
Instead of answering, Paul presented his exceptionally appealing backside, scrambling to the nightstand and then noisily rummaging inside. He handed Alex a square package and a familiar bottle. Worried about a coming accusation, Alex stammered, “I… I have absolutely no idea how those got in there.”
Paul’s teeth gleamed like pearls in the moonlight. “I do. It’s where I put them.”
The time for talking ended. Paul took control, tugging Alex’s boxers off and then throwing them aside. He used his mouth to roll on the condom and then pushed Alex back on the bed before climbing on top. With a wicked grin, he lightly bit a pebbled nipple, a not-so-subtle reminder of who’d been the master before.
Alex’s cock throbbed at the memory of that mastery, and he watched, puzzled when Paul’s lithe body straightened, back arching, Paul hissing in pleasure/pain.What’s he doing?The answer nearly stole Alex’s control, mesmerizing him with the erotic image of Paul using fingers to prepare for something larger. Suddenly, tight heat gripped his shaft and Paul hissed, sliding down Alex’s length, eyes closed tightly in concentration.
Wrapping his hands around slim hips, Alex fought the instinct to push up and bury himself in Paul’s body, unwilling to take his own pleasure at the risk of causing pain.
Paul stopped midway down, panting, weight braced with his hands against Alex’s chest. After a moment, he let gravity pull him down.
“I… don’t… bottom… often…,” Paul groaned through clenched teeth.
“Shh…,” Alex crooned. “Take your time. We’ve got all night.”
With another wicked grin, Paul assured him, “I intend to use every single minute.”
Rising up until the head of Alex’s cock barely remained inside him, Paul then reversed, sinking down completely, biting his bottom lip and rocking his hips in a grinding motion against Alex’s groin.
“Oh, God!” Alex cried.
As Paul’s body adjusted, so did his speed, and he rode Alex with enthusiasm, moaning with each upward stroke and hissing on the down, the sounds communicating less discomfort and more pleasure.
Alex wrapped his hand around Paul’s bobbing cock, forcing a single drop of pearly fluid from the tip. Capturing the droplet on a fingertip, he brought the offering to Paul’s parted lips. Paul greedily sucked Alex’s finger into his mouth, tongue lapping the digit clean. Alex moaned and tightened his hold, stroking in earnest, matching the rhythm his energetic lover set.
Paul’s tightening abs warned of impending climax, and Alex couldn’t last much longer, either.
“Alex!” Paul gasped, doubling over, semen splattering Alex’s chest and stomach. Rhythm faltering, he would have fallen had Alex not been holding onto his hips. Alex buried himself to the hilt, Paul’s spasming inner muscles squeezing mercilessly. Abandoning the fight to prolong the pleasure, Alex let go, crying out and filling the latex sheath he wore.
Paul slumped into a boneless heap, and with his last reserve of strength, Alex rolled them to their sides, easing out of Paul’s body with great reluctance. He grasped a scrap of torn cotton and cursorily wiped them both down. His lover scrutinized him with inquisitive eyes, and realization dawned that Paul probably assumed he’d now be dismissed from Alex’s bed, as reputation dictated. Alex stripped off the condom and wrapped it in a tissue before dropping the evidence of their tryst in the trash can. It wouldn’t do to flaunt such things around the servants, though they could think what they wanted about the torn boxers.
The old Alex would have been dressed and out of the door by now, or urging his partner to leave. The old Alex was a fool. Sated and weary, the long day catching up to him, he leaned in and kissed Paul soundly.
“Let’s sleep in tomorrow,” he mumbled through a sleepy haze.
19
PAULwoke up alone and instantly feared the worst, until he found a note waiting by his glasses.
