by Rie Warren
“Jesus. You’re gonna kill me, Mikey.”
His silver-gray eyes, his flushed cheeks, his mussed-up blond curls and the dusting of platinum body hair . . . the erect cock inside the tiniest white shorts . . . my hips jerked of their own accord.
There was nothing printed or stitched on the front of the briefs because I didn’t want anything to hinder my view of his raging hard-on. The back was a different story. This Ass Belongs to the Champ was printed over his taut cheeks in bold black letters with a boxing glove beneath.
Pushing his pert butt right in my face, Michael asked, “Are you saying you want to fist me?”
I was very close to coming without even being touched. I tried to deny the naughty idea of fisting him, but no words came out, only a hungry low grunt.
Swinging his head around, he saw my reaction. He ran his palms over his ass and between his legs where his testicles crowded the almost-sheer fabric. “Because I’m not averse to that idea.”
“Holy fuck.” My hands went to his backside, and I kneaded him. I squeezed hard and lightly spanked and drew my palm down to where his balls bounced. “You want me all the way inside you like that, don’t you?”
He grinded against my hands. “Not now, but it’s something to work up to.”
Oh, God.
I froze midmotion because one more word from him or one more touch on his round ass, and I would not be held responsible for any dirty filthy ideas that came out of my mouth.
Trying to stave off images of Michael riding my dick, my fingers, my hand, I closed my eyes and thought of anything to deflate my cock. Apparently that included Devlin. Not surprisingly, it worked like a charm.
I hadn’t told Michael I thought Devlin was onto us. Dev had noticed how much time we spent together. He wasn’t stupid. It was one of the reasons I’d hired him. Dev didn’t say anything out loud either, which was so not true to his usual mouth-flapping routine I was worried. The only thing he mentioned was getting Anya back in town to keep a close rein on me.
When I opened my eyes again, pretty much nothing could rein me in. Still in the tiny briefs, still waggling his ass, Michael caused an onslaught of lust to riptide right through my body.
Fuck it.
I grabbed his hips, yanked him back, and hissed, “Sit on my lap for the rest of the movie.”
“Oh yeah?” Like this, when we were together with no one else around, Michael was mischievous, playful, my own personal wet dream.
My eyes rolled back when he did a slight shift-grind on my lap. I nipped his shoulder to keep him still and hit the play button for the movie. Not surprisingly, I didn’t watch a single minute of the rest of Priest. I was too focused on Michael’s ass on my crotch and my boner stretching up behind him. The zipper rasped my length beneath my jeans, adding to the throbbing arousal. Then there was the line of sweet tiny freckles dotting his back from one broad shoulder to the other. I licked one. Another. And another.
Michael’s muscles flexed, but he did his yoga-breathing thing, which frankly amused me. As if his cock wasn’t as hard and he wasn’t as needy as me.
I ran my hands up his sides where his lats fanned wide, lightly tickling him. I grasped his biceps and sucked on the back of his neck.
He pretended I wasn’t groping him like a horny teenager. Good. I could fuck around with him all night long, just like this. My sexy trainer on my lap, almost naked and up for some filthy foreplay.
We hadn’t had sex yet—God only knew why we punished ourselves like this. But I liked the long tease—in a sick masochistic kind of way. We were building something more than just raw fucking. Although, I had to admit, my patience with the flirting and touching wore thin, and my cock was about to wear a hole through my jeans.
I gathered Mikey felt the same way because he got really strung up when I reached across the couch for my cell as it chimed with an incoming message. It was Gideon. He texted to say he’d bought an Xbox. I smiled and sent him a message back.
Michael saw it all. He moved off my lap.
“Gideon?”
“He asked me when we could play games together again.”
Michael’s eyes flipped to mine, and they were hard. “I know what kind of games he wants to play with you, Liam.”
“Right. Because gaming leads to sex. Get back over here and sit with me.”
“I told you the first time I saw you with him he’s hot under the collar for you.”
And then the truth hit me like a sledgehammer. Michael was still jealous. I shouldn’t have been thrilled, but I was.
“Why the hell are you laughing?” He glared at me.
I stifled a snort. “You’re jealous. I could’ve had him weeks ago if I wanted, but I don’t. I want you.” Leaning forward, I ruffled Michael’s hair. “And you’re fucking cute when you’re angry.”
Just ask my cock as it dances in my pants.
“Can you at least turn his goddamn painting around when I’m here?” he snarled.
Oh yeah, that painting.
Finally Michael mentioned the canvas hanging on my living room wall.
He jumped to his feet and glared at it. I followed right behind him. The skin on his back was smoother than anything I’d ever felt. His erection—when I peered over his shoulder—was harder than ever. And there was the stamp of Champ on his ass.
“You make me insane, sweetheart.” I wrapped my arms around him, trapping him against me.
He arched into me, but he didn’t melt, not like I needed him to. “I’ll be on meds soon because of you.”
“No, you won’t, because I can take care of all your needs.” I closed my lips around his earlobe.
He whimpered.
The cords of his neck tensed with each sucking pull I sent down the side of his throat. I moved my hand over his torso, each finger drifting into and around the divides of his deeply cut muscles. I tickled through his blond treasure trail to cup his cock in a powerful grip. He felt heavy and hot in my hand.
Licking the shell of his ear, I stroked him through the tiny bikinis, running my fingertips over the widening wet spot.
Michael braced his legs and thrust into my touch.
“I bought this painting because it reminds me of our brief”—I slid my hand inside the tiniest underwear imaginable—“very brief”—my strokes along his shaft were firm and fast—“hot, so fucking hot”—I sunk a blunt fingernail into his hot little piss slit, listening to him whistle a breath between his teeth—“shower.”
By the time I finished talking, Michael stood on his tiptoes, straining in my embrace.
“Oh, shit,” he gasped.
A soaking wash of sexy precome erupted from him, and I quickly pulled my hand away before he came all the way.
“So I can keep the painting?”
Michael was all soft lips, harsh stubble, smooth tongue when he pulled my mouth to his. The kiss went on forever as I clenched his hips, rubbing against him.
He turned in my arms. “If you get me off right now, yeah.”
“Only if you come in my mouth this time.”
“That won’t be a problem.” His kiss was wet and full of want as I palmed him through the bright white briefs.
“Take ’em off,” I gruffly said, sliding one finger around the waistband on his lean hips.
I stepped back to take in my fill of him. Snapping the briefs down, he hooked two thumbs at the sides and shimmied them off. When he stood, his cock slapped against his abdomen. It arched slightly out from his groin before the head rested right below his belly button. That head was reddish, slick, and his entire shaft looked shiny and unyielding. I couldn’t wait to get my mouth on him.
I dropped to my knees. I flung off my shirt. I bent to start all the way down at his feet—his insteps, his calves. I leaned around to suck and tickle the backs of his knees.
Michael’s husky laughter pulled my gaze to his. “You teasing bastard.”
I slanted a lust-filled grin at him. I wasn’t going for the full meal before I tried everything on the menu
. Using my palms on his inner thighs to spread them wider, I heard his throaty moan tumble out. The crease between his massive legs and his groin, that was what I wanted. I licked both sides, up and down the muscular indent of flesh until his head fell back and his breath came fast.
Only when Michael trembled and his hands dragged into my hair, only when his eyes opened to find mine with such yearning, did I take him in my hand. He bit into his lip, and then his mouth dropped open. Nothing came out but a low groan. I dipped my tongue into his slit, taking away the diamond-drop of clear liquid.
His large cockhead filled the opening of my mouth as I smoothed my lips onto him. I didn’t go any farther. I moved nothing but my tongue, circling around and around, occasionally tickling the sensitive area where his crown met the shaft, making a pink inverted heart shape of tissue-like flesh on his cut tool. I massaged my tongue down his length then drew one of his pouches into my mouth.
He shouted my name.
Aw yeah. I repeated that move on his other ball until both tightened. After I’d repeatedly rapped the flat of my tongue against the fleshy muscle where his balls met his base, I added a slick pull-twist-turn to the flared head of his cock.
Michael pushed me away. A misty sheen of sweat glowed on his body, and my lips felt cocksucking-awesome swollen.
“Bedroom. Bed. Now,” he rasped.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Mikey Likes It
I SCRAMBLED OFF MY knees and after him. He stepped out of the briefs that dangled around his ankles because I’d neglected to take them all the way off. I thought he looked hot with something tethering his ankles together. Sue me.
At the sound of my zipper biting through metal teeth, Michael turned around to watch as he continued walking. His cock bobbed in front of him, and I was dog-leash-bitch-in-heat right after him. On the way down the hall, I dropped my jeans. He beckoned me into the bedroom.
Flicking on the light, he looked around for a second before his razor-sharp gaze zeroed in on me. “I’ll explore later.”
I pushed him onto the bed. He had enough time to bounce once before I pounced between his legs to get back to my blowjob.
Michael stopped me. “No.”
My dick was practically taking on its own life form with every curt word he said. Who knew I wanted Michael to take absolute control over me? Oh yeah, me.
“No?”
He muscled me on top of him and spun me back to front until my knees rested beside his head and my face was centered on his groin. “No. You’re going to fuck my mouth, and I’m going to explode in yours, baby.”
Brainsplosion.
And oh joy of joys, there was a full-length mirror on my closet door. Tomorrow? First work order of the day was moving that motherfucker to the ceiling above my bed. Screw the workouts.
What I saw reflected back at me made me mindless. Michael—blond, tanned. Me—slightly larger and dark-haired. Well-hung, well-built, earning a living from our bodies-type-of-men in classic 69 position. Shit, I wanted to make a video myself.
And that was the last of my thinking because Michael gripped his dick and tapped it against my panting mouth. In the next instant, he had my cock hanging over his wide-open lips. He kissed me down there the same way he always did on my mouth—with deepest hunger and long lunges of tongue, except this time it was my shaft he Frenched almost all the way down to the root.
I shouted his name, arching my back, shamelessly offering myself to him.
Sucking in shuddering breaths, I looked at the meal before me. Glinting golden pubes, low hung sac. Everything tidied and his tight ass cheeks pulled up. I’d had his dick. I wanted his taint. That little bridge of muscle between his balls and his backside. I pressed my thumb down on it hard.
He sucked me even deeper, whimpering around me.
Ah, fuck.
I slowly stroked Mikey’s cock while gorging myself on his dam. I swirled, sucked, and tasted that firm muscle between his sac and his pucker. Rearing up, I gasped for air when he clenched my ass and drove me in long hard thrusts all the way into his throat.
I angled my hips to hump between his lips, then I opened my mouth as wide as I could. The broad tip of his cock entered my mouth, but I wouldn’t close my lips around him. I wanted to hear him plead for me. I slipped him in and out as my saliva dripped down his pole. My tongue was the only part of my mouth that made contact with him.
His low groans became throaty keens.
“Suck me. Suck me. Please,” Michael begged.
Oh yeah. I swooped down, tightened my lips, and crushed my nose to his balls. I stilled, swallowed, and moaned when I felt his reaction. Michael pumped inside my mouth. He throbbed, grew even larger, and blasted me with volleys of come. I pulled back until the pulsing volcano spray landed on my tongue. Hot semen splashed inside my mouth as he hung onto the backs of my thighs.
He kept coming with a silent howl before crying out and writhing between each seize of his body.
I hoped he wasn’t one of those guys who got too sensitive after they came, because I had every intention of spending the entire night with my face between his legs and my mouth stuffed full of him.
At least this was one piece of meat he couldn’t take off the meal plan.
He softened just a bit, enough to make me smile with a tender, gentle feeling. Suckling the drips of milk-white fluid from his body, I took him inside my mouth again.
As soon as Michael recovered, he undulated his head up and down along me. The heated cavern of his mouth and throat took me deep.
I bowed my head. Hissed through my teeth. I gripped his thighs.
Lifting up, I sat on his face.
I held his neck in my hand as he glugged on my cock. “Tell me to stop if it’s too much.”
He shook his head, his mouth too full of me to speak.
I rose up to my knees. My cock glistened, distended, as it escaped his mouth. Michael gasped. I leaned over him and kissed him with my tongue curling around his.
He pushed me onto my back just before he pounced. “Ready for more?”
I didn’t have time to answer. I couldn’t have anyway. I was done-for the second Mikey dipped his tongue inside my stretched tight foreskin.
“Holy fuck!” I squeezed the base of my cock in hopes of staving off my orgasm.
The staggering sensation of his tongue spearing between my hard cockhead and its extended skin made me drive my skull back to the bed.
Every muscle in my body drew tight as he teased and tasted and lipped my foreskin. I was sweating, shaking, swearing.
I only let go of the root of my shaft when he deep-throated me. His hot passage throbbed around me, then his lips moved farther. They nestled my balls. Scorching heat started in the soles of my feet.
I crumpled the bedspread in my fists.
My neck cranked.
My legs spread.
I goddamn fucking whined. “Oh. OH!”
That last semi-coherent thought got shot all to shit when he thrust a spit-slicked thumb into my ass. The dam inside broke. A flood of heat surged up my legs and throughout my ass until it blasted out of my cock and straight into his gulping mouth. My hips rolled forever and ever against his mouth, and Michael just kept taking it, taking me. He rubbed my thighs until finally the hot rippling contortions of my orgasm slowed.
Coming up for air, Michael kissed me on my chin and collapsed against me.
“Fuck me.” I splayed one hand over his heaving back and threw an arm across my face. I was done. Forever. Or at least five more minutes. “The fuck did you just do to me, Mikey?”
“Everything I ever wanted to.”
Drawing him against me, I lifted my eyelids partway. “Me, too. Everything.” I nudged my toes against his. “With you.”
Hours later, after snuggling and snoozing, Michael lifted up beside me. He ran his fingertips down my face. He kissed my lips, just a soft brush that lingered. In silence, he padded around my apartment, gathering his clothes. In darkness, he put them on. I f
ollowed him to the door.
This time there were no recriminations, just the terrible, terrifying feeling of wanting more than I could have. My heart went sluggish and cold.
“Liam, I want to stay the night, someday.” On the threshold, with his head angled down, Michael wouldn’t look at me.
I tilted his chin so he met my gaze. “One day, you will. I promise.”
I kissed him with all the yearning, the years of longing, the desperation to have him out in the open, in front of everyone. When I didn’t have to say goodbye. When I could say goodnight to my lover and know he’d be in my arms in the morning.
Michael walked down the hushed hallway to the elevator, and his shoulders slumped.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Naked MMA
SEVERAL NIGHTS LATER, WE had the gay guy talk. The bottom-top talk. Only really it was more like sexy warfare—or naked MMA. And really I’d let Michael split my ass wide open with his cock, except I didn’t want him to think I was cheap and easy. Even though for him I was completely cheap and easy.
My fight with Jones looming near, every day of training and tactics became more and more grueling and taxing. Everyone thought they had a great new idea for me. Everyone—Sean, Dev, shit, even the janitors at the gym—threw in their two cents worth. My progress was followed more closely than the primary campaigns clogging up the airwaves.
Finally, Michael tossed everyone out of the gym, switched off our phones, locked the doors, and closed us in. Fat lot of good that did my concentration. I tried. I really did. But hour after hour of jab, hook, jump, bounce, hit, block . . . wore through the tight control I’d had over myself.
Besides, Michael sweaty, determined, and single-minded while we were all alone? Sexy as fuck. By the time we got to cool down yoga, I was so on fire for him I couldn’t see straight.
As I moved into downward dog position, bent over at the waist and balanced on my fingertips, Michael shifted in behind me. I hissed when he grinded against my upturned ass.
“How do you like yoga now, baby?”
Gritting my teeth, I pumped back. In this position, my ass was spread. I was at his mercy. I felt him through our damp clothes, straining against my cleft.
