by Quin Perin
His crown landed on my offering and this time, I played fair. After spending a few minutes worshipping his head, I pushed as much of his cock as I could get into my mouth. My tongue swirled the length, exploring every inch as I played with my new toy. His cock was hard as a fucking rock, but the skin covering his weapon was so silky smooth. I traced the heavy vein underneath his cock, loving how it made him moan with pleasure.
My head bobbed up and down and with each movement, I became braver, more excited. Before long, I’d pushed his hand away, and now I held his base while my other hand played with his balls. There was even a piercing on his perineum and when I tugged on it, he growled with lust.
Oh, I was going to be really good at this. Really. Damn. Good.
I kept working him, enjoying myself almost as he was enjoying the magic my mouth, tongue, and lips worked on him. I felt powerful and in control. I knew he owned me, but I felt like I owned him when I had him in my mouth.
The harder I worked, the more frenzied he became. Before long, as he lost complete control and lost himself in the passion, he simply held the back of my head while thrusting in and out of my mouth.
“Shit, London. That mouth of yours is fucking perfect,” he hissed. “I’m about to come and if you don’t want it inside that pretty mouth of yours, you’d better tell me to pull out.”
Like fuck he would. I’d worked hard for what he was about to give me. “Don’t you dare,” I said and then swallowed him in my mouth again. Within seconds, his come coated my mouth and slid down my throat. It was heaven. I was soaring—my body on fire and more alive than ever before.
I couldn’t believe it. Without even touching myself, I came all over the hallway floor. Panting from pride and arousal, I looked up at him and said, “Get it together. How long does it take for you Americans to pull yourself back together.” I stood, pulled my pants up while tucking myself back in, and, putting both hands behind his neck, I attacked his lips with my own. We’d done a lot of things in London—things straight men didn’t do. I’d enjoyed all of them. We’d never kissed, though. Not once.
As my lips molded to his and our tongues danced beautifully with one another, I realized that kissing Christian was going to be ranked pretty fucking high on my favorites list. He let me have my way with him for a few minutes, not shy or hesitant but demanding he give me what I wanted. After those few minutes, though, he turned me around and slammed my body back against the wall. From this position, his lips attacked mine.
Every nerve in my body buzzed.
The man knew how to kiss, no doubt about it. He used his entire body—one hand touching me everywhere, from the side of my face down to my balls, while the other held both my hands imprisoned over my head. He dominated me with every move, every touch, every scorching breath either of us took.
Suddenly, he released my hands from their prison and I honestly think I would have slid to the floor like a wet noodle if he hadn’t planted his big body against the front of mine, trapping me between him and the wall. Still dizzy from his kisses, I blinked lazily when I looked at him. “Damn. That was…uh…intense.”
He rocked his hips against me and his huge erection hit my stomach. Leaning in, he nipped at the lobe of my ear, causing more chills to wash over me, and whispered, “That’s how long it takes us Americans to ‘pull ourselves back together’.” Then he stepped back just enough for him to be able to grab me and toss me over his shoulder. He took two steps and said, “This is your room, right?”
Hanging upside down, ass in the air and his hand planted possessively on my left butt cheek, I tried to see where we’d ended up. “Yep, that’s me. How did you know?”
He chuckled. “Oh, I’ve known where you were every minute you’ve been here, London.” He punched in a code and it should have probably bothered me that he knew the code to my suite, but it didn’t—not in the least. As he carried us inside, he continued talking. “I also watched you jerk off that first night while you thought of me…called out my name as your spunk coated your chest.”
Frowning and still hanging upside, I cringed in anger and embarrassment as I thought about my privacy being invaded in what should be considered a safe haven. “What the fuck? You all have cameras in our rooms? Who all watched that, Christian?” I kicked him hard, barely missing his balls. “And put me down; I’m pissed!”
Christian burst out laughing and swatted my ass really hard. He walked over to the bed…the same bed where I’d done exactly what he’d described many times since arriving, and tossed me onto the covers that were still tangled from my early morning fantasy session—party for two.
“Nah, London. There aren’t any cameras in the rooms. The castle is considered safe; you know this.” He stared down at me. Him standing over me and me on the bed made me feel vulnerable. My blood immediately heated.
“I just guessed that you’d jerked off to thoughts of me.” He winked. “I sure the hell touched myself when I thought about you.” He pulled his T-shirt over his head and tossed it onto the floor.
Well, fuck me. I knew he was gorgeous. I’d seen his naked chest before. I’d touched it. We’d wrestled. Hell, in London we’d gone all the way to third base…so I’d seen it before but it never ceased to amaze me. He was fucking gorgeous. Both nipples were pierced. I knew his cock was pierced, and I couldn’t wait to touch his perineum piercing again.
Nearly choking on lust, I retorted, “You’re an ass. That wasn’t very nice.” Then I smiled up at him because he dropped his sweats and kicked them aside. “Did you really think about me when you touched yourself?” Yes, that sounded needy. I knew it did but couldn’t have stopped the words if my life had depended on it.
One knee hit the edge of the bed. “I’ve thought of nobody else, Hudson. I don’t have a fucking clue what we’re doing here or how we could ever turn it into anything else, but I’m damn sure willing to try.” Moving like lightning, he grabbed both my ankles and pulled me across the bed, closer to him.
My brain was trying to process his words, my body physically preparing for round wo but my head mentally trembling from what was about to happen. Yep, my body wanted one thing and my head, buzz-kill, was screaming ‘it won’t fit’ loud enough to wake the dead.
When I noticed that my hands shook, I slid them beneath the rumpled sheets. “You know I’ve never done this before, right?” There was a good chance I had just sounded like a coward.
Christian’s eyes darkened. “I hope the hell not, London. You belong to me and only me.” He turned his head and kissed my right ankle and then my left…as he laid each of them on one of his broad shoulders. Damn, that made me feel really different than I usually did during sex.
“What’s the matter, pretty boy? Are you getting nervous?” He grinned one of his wicked grins and my stomach did a flip-flop. “Cause if you are, that’s okay. We don’t have to do anything…or we can do everything. You’re the one calling the shots here—not me.”
“You-you know I want to. Stop tormenting me,” I argued. “I just need to, you know, adjust to the differences.”
“Ahhhh, okay. You need some adjustment time. I completely understand.” Just as quickly as before, he reached down and grabbed the waistband of my sweats and pulled them all the way down, past my feet, and tossed them aside. When he finished, my lower half was naked and my ankles were still resting on each of his shoulders. “Adjust all you want to, London. I’ll just be up here…enjoying the view. Could you take that T-shirt off for me, gorgeous?”
I sucked in a whimper when he gave his rock-hard cock a leisurely stroke as he watched me. “Take your time, London. I could look at you all night long.”
There was no lying or denying—my hands were shaking from nerves when I pulled them from beneath the sheets so I could pull my shirt over my head. When I was completely naked, splayed out before him, I moaned and said, “Oh, fuck. I can’t believe this is where I’m at—how different this is, yet how fucking right it feels.” I felt a blush heat my cheeks. “I mean it
feels really right but when I look down at myself, it is embarrassing. Don’t tease me too much.”
“Now why in the ever loving hell would you be embarrassed of all this?” he asked while eye fucking me. “You’re fucking gorgeous, London.”
Blushing, I answered, “Yeah, but my ankles are on your shoulders. It’s-it’s different.”
“Yeah, it is. You know what else? It’s better…so damn much better.” He dropped to his knees, slid me closer to the edge of the bed, and draped my legs over his shoulders. His breath, so hot, brushed my cock and balls and I nearly bucked off the bed. Hell, I would have if he hadn’t pushed me back down. Looking up from the spot between my spread legs, he said, “Watch this.”
I closed my eyes as his face dropped closer to parts of me that only he and women had seen up close and personal. He’d blown me before, and it had been the most fantastic, toe-curling blow job of my fucking life. I leaned my head back, closed my eyes, and tried to focus on the pleasure so I wouldn’t think about the fact that I was spread wide instead of thrusting.
“Uh…no,” he said. “I said to watch this. Lean up on your elbows so you can see better.”
My eyes flew open. He was kidding, right? I looked down at him. No, he wasn’t kidding. Of course not.
“Elbows. Now.”
I did as he commanded because that’s just what I did—if Christian wanted something, I’d do it. It was a dangerous superpower he had over me and I hoped he never learned about it. “Are you kidding me? Why? Why do I have to watch?”
“Because once you watch me worship you the way I’m going to, you’ll never be able to be embarrassed with this position again.”
Worship? Damn. How could I have ever doubted that I belonged to Christian? I made myself comfortable on my elbows and said, “Start worshipping, America.”
He mumbled something about me being a smart ass in need of a spanking—which I could probably get in to with very little coaxing on his part—and then went to work. Not on my cock, though. No, his beautiful mouth went straight to my hole. He licked all around, teasing the edges, and then pushing the tip of his tongue against the protective muscle. He spit on me, which was weird but okay, and then kept…worshipping. Fuck, I could get into this type of worship.
It wasn’t long until I was moaning, spreading my legs even wider, and begging him to give me more. I’d never thought myself to be a beggar, but apparently I was. “Fuck, Christian,” I whined. “That feels fucking incredible but I need more. Ugh.” My head fell back and hit the mattress in frustration. As soon as it did, all the fun downtown stopped.
Damn him!
I eased up on my elbows again. “You’re evil.”
“Thank you,” he answered and went back to work. This time, though, his tongue plunged inside my hole and I nearly jerked off the edge of the bed—not very romantic but very uncontrolled. In and out. Swirl around. A kiss. A blow. A nip. Back in again. My sounds were getting worse. I hated how needy I was but didn’t hate it enough to stop myself. I might have sounded like a kitten mewling.
When he pulled his tongue out and shoved in a finger before my body had the chance to close back, I was done for—completely done for. I screamed and my hand automatically went to my weeping cock. I froze, remembering what he’d said.
“Fuck, Christian. I need to touch myself. Let me. Please,” I added like a good little boy.
“Since you asked, yes, you may.”
After that, there wasn’t much left for me to do but explode all over myself and Christian. Between his eyes setting me on fire with how they sizzled with lust, my hand sliding up and down my dick, and his fingers pushing in and out of me, I didn’t have a fucking chance. I might have lasted one minute once all the stimulation started happening at once.
One. Fucking. Minute.
Damn, he owned me.
With two, maybe three, fingers still crammed inside of me, he asked, “Are you sure, Hudson?”
I was almost too weak to speak. I felt like I was floating. My eyes fluttered as the sensations continued to caress every inch of me. “Never been more sure of anything in my life, America.”
I don’t know how he did it. I don’t really care how he did it. The fact was he somehow flipped me over, grabbed a condom and lube, suited up, and still kept those fingers inside of me.
“Come on, babe. Ass up. Let me worship your beautiful ass some more.”
I raised up on my knees but my chest and head rested on the bed. It was the best he was going to get from me after my earth-shattering orgasm. When his fingers slid out, I felt empty…like everything was wrong the second we were no longer connected. I opened my mouth to complain, but slammed my lips together when I felt the head of his cock breech my opening. After that, I forced myself to relax. Yeah, I’d watched some gay porn to help prepare me for this very moment. So what.
“I feel like I’ve waited a lifetime for this moment,” he whispered as he pushed the rest of the way inside me. I wasn’t going to lie—it hurt. Burned. Kind of made me feel like he might rip me apart.
It felt fucking delicious. Fucking perfect.
By the time he started pounding into me, my cock was hard again and bouncing between my legs with every thrust. I felt every inch of him slide in and then out of my body. Sometimes he’d tilt his hips a certain way that would cause him to hit my prostate, and then I’d be back to making those sounds again.
So…it wasn’t just ‘a thing’ in London. It was the real thing.
Christian
After cleaning both of us up, I’d opened the balcony doors to let the cool fall air blow into the room while we snuggled on the bed. Just for the record—I’d never been a snuggler, but if Hudson wanted to snuggle, we were going to snuggle, dammit. My fingers twirled through his blond hair, loving the texture, smell, and the way the ends would curl around my finger. I explored his chest with the tips of my fingers, causing his breathing to speed up when I touched certain spots.
When my fingers made their way down to his hip bones, I frowned. “Damn, London. You’re going to have finger-bruises on you. I didn’t mean to be so rough your first time.”
He snorted. “Whatever. It felt like you were trying to ensure I wouldn’t be able to walk straight for a week, and I fucking love it.” With a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders, he added, “I might not be able to walk tomorrow, but I’m loving it tonight.”
He rolled over until he was practically laying on top of me. After placing a soft kiss on my lips, he said, “I’m not a fuck and run kind of guy, Christian. This meant something to me. If it doesn’t mean anything besides a nice romp in the sheets, then tell me now. Don’t let it go any further.”
I griped both sides of his beautiful face. “Listen to me, London. I don’t know how you did it, but you’ve burrowed your way into my heart and I don’t want you to ever leave. I don’t know how we’ll work it out with our jobs, but we will. It literally made me sick when I left you behind in London. It felt so…wrong. Just the thought of you not being with me nearly paralyzed me with fear.”
“Okay. Good. Real good because I felt that same way. Like I said, work isn’t a worry. I’ll put in for a transfer. Your team is much more fun than mine.” He coughed and then looked at me again. “Don’t worry, if it doesn’t work out, I’ll go back home. I won’t stay and make everyone’s life a living hell.”
I leaned up and kissed him. “Then plan on becoming an American citizen because you’re never leaving me. Not ever.”
Just having him on top of me had caused me to get hard again. Hell, I’d probably be walking around the rest of my life with my dick hard. Unable to stop myself, I ground against him. I didn’t intend to do anything since he had to be sore, but I just wanted to feel him against me.
“Nuh uh,” he said as he wiggled off and landed next to me on the bed with a plop. “That thing isn’t going inside of me again any time tonight, Christian. I wasn’t lying. I literally probably won’t be able to walk tomorrow.”
“Then it’
s a good thing I don’t plan on either of us leaving this bedroom tomorrow—no walking required, London.” As I went back to trailing my fingers against his heated skin, I decided I had to ask. “Hudson, you told me you were straight. Everyone said you were straight. Did it turn out that you were bisexual? Gay for hot me? What happened?”
He grinned up at me. “You know, I asked myself that same question a hundred times. I tried to put a label on it, tried to put me in a nice, neat category, but I couldn’t do it. Nothing seemed right. Nothing sounded right. Then, after the wrestling demonstration, I figured it out. I’ve labeled myself.”
I arched a brow, waiting. “And?”
“I’ve just got particular tastes, America.”
Connect with T.S. McKinney
Facebook Group
Facebook Profile
Goodreads
Amazon
More
Claim your
FREE READ
by T.S. McKinney
Doctor’s Orders
Emma Jaye
A Paint series short story that takes place after
Paint #3 Invisible Ink
One
The curved suture needle poked into the bleeding skin, moved a few millimetres through the flesh, then emerged. The drunk woman now had six stitches in her lacerated hand. Alcohol and broken glass had never been a healthy mix. Dr. Nathan Cooper’s thirty-something patient didn’t seem to notice as she giggled with her girlfriend. Her hand moved as he tried to put in the final stitch. At least someone was having a good time. He didn’t often question his personal mission to save people from themselves, but this woman pushed all his buttons with her wanton disregard for her own health and safety.
Taking Alex out for an evening of distraction had been his plan, but the hospital had begged him to cover an A and E shift as two doctors were off with the flu. He’ll be fine, Nate told himself. Alex hadn’t self-harmed for many months and falling down the rabbit hole of drugs again didn’t seem likely. But, as a part-time drug counselor, Nate knew that relapses happened to the most stable people. Especially when they were stressed.
