His eyes were closed as his tongue finally slipped inside and dominated my mouth, but I felt more seen than I had in years. Every time I tried to start grinding, Ev’s hands stilled my hips. He nuzzled my beard, kissed my ears, licked my neck, blessed my eyebrows and nose with feathery kisses, and still no grinding.
“Please. Ev.” My voice was already lower and needier than usual.
Ignoring my pleas, he expertly fended off my own roving hands as he let down my hair, briefly burying his face in it like he wanted to memorize my shampoo. Pushing the neck of my shirt down, he sucked along my collarbone.
“Killing me here, Ev.” My voice sounded shaky even to my own ears. “I need your skin.”
“You said you like me taking over?”
“Yes—” My answer was edging close to a whine.
“And overwhelmed? Are you not sufficiently overwhelmed?” His voice washed over me, stronger and more erotic than any rope.
“Well—” I started, but he cut me off, tumbling us onto the bed, him on top. “Yes. That. Push me into the bed.”
“You like being held down?” He peered down at me, body already moving to pin me in place before his mouth attacked me again.
“Love it.” I arched against him, just to test the hold he had on me. Delightfully, he pushed me down hard with his pelvis. Not grinding, but his cock was a thick, solid weight against my own, anchoring me.
Ev took my hands and placed them on the headboard. “Good. Now I’m going to have some fun.”
“Awesome. Use me.” I stretched against him. I needed this, and every cell hummed with awareness.
Ev moved my shirt again to kiss my neck and collarbones. “Keep holding on.”
Then he pushed up the sleeves to kiss and lick at each wrist in turn, kissing each bit of skin he uncovered. I wore two bracelets on my left wrist that the twins had made, and Ev gently moved those aside to lick at my pulse point. It was a simple cotton long-sleeved shirt, but I resolved to wear something with buttons next time we did this.
“Should I be wearing a cardigan for this?” I laughed, trying to distract myself from the very real possibility of coming in my pants at some point.
“Shh.” Ev moved so that he could lick my waist, uncovering a narrow strip of skin, and my next laugh died in my throat. He raised the shirt millimeters at a time, and when his lips finally found one of my pierced nipples, I almost shot on the spot.
“Ev. Seriously. I didn’t bring spare pants.”
“You have very little self-control.” He made a little chiding noise that went straight to my dick before he went back to teasing my nipples with little licks and flicks. I’d gotten them pierced on a whim when I was nineteen, but Ev played them like a finely tuned instrument and made my impulse seem like genius.
And I wasn’t kidding—my balls tightened and I had to start making complicated drinks in my head to keep from exploding. Eventually, mercifully, Ev returned to my waistband and unzipped me, but his microscopic removal technique had me cursing softly and clutching the headboard hard. He kissed everywhere but my aching dick—tops of my thighs, all around my patch of hair, over the arch of my hip bone—until finally my pants were around my lower thighs and my shirt was around my neck. He sat back on his heels, surveying his work like he was very pleased with himself for trapping me with my own clothes and driving me out of my mind.
Then, wordlessly and in one smooth motion, he swallowed my dick down. I arched up, but his strong forearms locked me in place.
“Wait. Want to get you off, too,” I panted. My body was used to very efficient orgasms—five-minute shower specials. On very rare occasions, though, I got a chance to practice edging, and Ev made me feel both like I’d been edging for hours and like I was on the express train to quick and dirty. His nimble tongue danced through whatever restraint I had.
Ev lifted his head long enough to say, “You are.”
“Want to touch you.” I groaned, but my hands didn’t leave the headboard.
My cock still in his mouth, Ev grinned up at me wickedly. He let it slide out of his mouth with a loud plop, a lewd sound that made my balls tighten up. “I have fantasized about this for weeks. You at my mercy. Touching and tasting you until I’ve had my fill. Next time, I will allow you to touch. But right now, I am going to live out my fantasy, thank you very much.”
“When you put it that way…”
“There is much I want to do to you, but if you don’t be quiet…” he trailed off ominously.
“Shutting up now.”
He gave a dark laugh before swallowing me down again. He didn’t deep throat, but that was okay—his dexterous hands teased the base of my shaft and my balls, working in concert with his generous mouth to make me pant and moan. Remembering what Ev had said about noise, I turned my head to bite one of Ev’s fluffy pillows.
“Yes. Bite the pillow. Such a beautiful picture,” Ev praised in between more sucks and licks. I wasn’t touching him and we weren’t even all the way naked yet, but I still felt closer to him than I had anyone in years.
“Fuck, Ev…gonna…” The bastard slowed it down, keeping me riding the edge for what felt like decades, until without warning, he tightened his grip, fingers just this side of too rough on my balls, and that was it. I buried a scream in the pillow as I came. He swallowed greedily around my cock, and the sensation was enough to milk out a few more spurts. The orgasm made my whole body shudder and my hands dropped away from the headboard.
“So beautiful.” Ev sat up, kneeling next to me. He wiped his face delicately with a towel at the foot of the bed.
“You planned ahead.” I laughed. I patted my chest and shoved a pillow behind my head. I wasn’t moving, but I needed his cock. “Your turn now.”
Ev considered my offer like it was a choice of entrees, head tilting to one side. “In my…fantasy, I shot on your stomach. Because you are good with being made a mess.”
Hot as the image of Ev jerking off was, I was desperate to taste him. “Fuck. That’s hot. Let me suck you until you’re close, then you can make all the mess you want on me.”
I liked his curious bundle of quirks—hating wet mess and stuff on his hands but wanting to paint me with his cum. The unwrapping me bit by bit had been kinky and sweet and dirty all at the same time. My cock stirred at the memory, waking up a bit more as Ev unzipped and unveiled a thick, uncut cock with a plump head.
“Fuck. Ev, you’re delicious. Get up here.”
Straddling my chest, he fed me his cock with the same slow deliberateness he’d explored my body, first giving me only the heavy head. My hands bracketed his hips, but there was no question who was driving this show. In my fairly limited experience, some cock-heads were perfectly round, while others were ovals, but Ev’s had an interesting elongated angle to it, giving it an almost elegant flair before the thick crown and ridge of foreskin.
He kept a hand on his dick, controlling how much I could suck, and that bit of bossiness got my motor humming again big-time. It also motivated me to do my best work with my lips and tongue, teasing and dancing over his tip, lapping up the copious pre-cum from his slit. The salty tang of pre-cum had always turned me on, and I loved guys like Ev, who made lots for me to lick up and tease out. Finally, he slid his hand back a bit and gave me more to play with. I groaned as the thick length of him slid over my tongue. He was wide enough that I had to do some oral gymnastics to keep my teeth at bay, but not so long as to tax my ability to take all he wanted to give me.
He found a rhythm of slowly fucking my mouth in long, fluid strokes punctuated by soft curses. If I hadn’t come minutes earlier, his husky whispers combined with the taste of his cock might have been enough to tip me over. He didn’t speed up, but his breathing hitched, and I could tell by the tension in his thighs that he was getting closer. He started going deeper, little jerks of his hips now, not pulling all the way back. My eyes watered a
nd my throat stung and the sensations washed over me in a perfect wave as my focus narrowed to only him and his cock fucking my mouth, him owning me so thoroughly that I needed him for my next breath.
“Siktir.” Ev moaned the word. I didn’t have to speak Turkish to know he was almost there. I loosened my grip on his hips so he could slide backward, jerking himself with a surprisingly loose grip over my bare stomach. Less than five strokes and he was covering me with thick ropes of cum that pooled on my belly.
“My imagination is clearly not good enough,” Ev panted, staring at his handiwork for a long moment. Eyes locked on his, I dragged a finger through the puddle, then brought it to my mouth, licked it clean.
“Dirty man.” Ev laughed approvingly as he fumbled for the towel, first gently dabbing at his dick, then cleaning me up with a tender thoroughness before collapsing next to me.
“Mine either.” I touched his face, pulling him closer. He smiled at me for a long moment, and I had a feeling he was trying to decide if he was okay with tasting himself on my lips. Just when I was about to roll away, he surprised me by capturing my mouth in a soft kiss. We made out like that for several long minutes, trading little kisses and touches.
“Oh, Brady, I want—”
Beep. Beep. Beep. The alarm clock on Ev’s nightstand beeped angrily. I glanced at the time and winced. “Fuck. I’m going to be late!”
“Hence the alarm.” Ev sat up and rubbed his face. I scrambled to rearrange my clothes and get my shoes on. “Don’t forget your lunch!”
As I hurried down the stairs, lunch tote in hand, I realized Ev had never finished his thought. All the possibilities made my stomach flop around. Over at the People’s Cup, I got my hands washed and my apron on with two minutes to spare. I had to simply hope that what Ev wanted was what I wanted, and that for once in our lives, we might actually get it.
Chapter 8
Dear friends, longtime reader Reba writes, “You have so many gorgeous sweater patterns for men. Which do you suggest I knit for my new boyfriend?” No, dear Reba, no. Unfortunately, I’m here to tell you that the curse of the boyfriend sweater is real. I listen carefully to the ladies in the shop and at Knit Night, and everyone, including yours truly, has a horror story of the sweater gifted too soon. May I gently suggest limiting the number of skeins required for your gift to the number of years you have been together? And for goodness’ sake, put a ring on him before you gift him a sweater. —Evren’s Yarnings
Given Renee’s general stubbornness lately, I shouldn’t have been surprised when she showed up at six on a Knit Night with Jonas in tow.
“I tried to see if Carlos’s mother would take him,” she said, bypassing any attempt at a greeting. Carlos was Jonas’s best friend, and his mother was already doing me a huge large by taking him the weekend I had the barista contest. The twins were going to their best friend’s house that weekend as well. Not that Renee couldn’t handle the kids for a weekend in theory, but she had a geology overnight field trip that weekend. And even if she didn’t…Renee couldn’t be trusted not to pull stunts like this.
That night the twins were going on a birthday dinner and kid movie date with their best friend, and Renee and I had had an argument the night before about how Jonas could not be home alone while she went on a study date. She’d asked if he could come hang out at People’s Cup, something we’d had to do once in an extreme emergency, but I couldn’t have that on Knit Night, when we got so crowded.
“Look, I can give you guys some soup and bread for dinner before you head home, but Renee, I told you to break the study date.” I kept my voice firm, but I knew my parental tone didn’t work on Renee. Neither of us had signed up for this, but we were a team. And our team had rules—like no boys over while she had the kids. We’d had some issues early on with her friends distracting her from the kids’ needs. “Look, I’ll hurry home. You can do a late-night study date. And I’ll do the getting ready for school by myself tomorrow.”
“Why don’t you want me to be happy?” Tears filled Renee’s eyes. “This is the nicest guy I’ve ever met, and I keep needing to put him off to take care of the kids.”
Join the fucking club. But of course I couldn’t say that in front of Jonas. I’d planned to be even later than usual by sneaking in some quality Ev groping. That so wasn’t happening now. It didn’t matter if Ev was the nicest guy or the sexiest or the sweetest—the kids came first, something Renee just couldn’t seem to grasp. In the two weeks since our lunch date, Ev and I had managed exactly one other quickie, a lot of nonsexy phone calls, one furtive sext session, and another whispered late night of phone sex. Renee needed to take a number in the I’m-entitled-to-see-my-friends sweepstakes.
Her tears spilled over and my chest squeezed tight. She was still so much a kid herself. I knew I’d regret it, but I rubbed her arm. “Fine. This one time, Renee. This can’t become a habit. If someone complains, I could get fired.”
“You won’t!” She waved, already backing out of the store before I could change my mind. Eventually, we needed to have a long, painful chat about this new behavior of hers. I was barely functional as a caregiver for the little kids. I had no clue how to parent a teenager. I tried. I laid down rules, but lately she just blew through everything, like today.
I didn’t allow myself the luxury of missing Mom very often, but right then, I missed her so much my eyes squished shut and my hands clenched. She would know the right thing to say to Renee. But me? I had no clue.
I set Jonas up in the very rear of the shop at a tiny table almost no one used, with strict instructions not to leave his chair.
However, I underestimated Violet and her furniture rearranging crew, who came in a few minutes early. The triplets were wearing what appeared to be purses masquerading as tank tops—thick, bulky yarn in a weird tapestry pattern with leather straps. Even Portland’s penchant for the weird couldn’t make those acceptable fashion choices, but I was more concerned with their looks and clucking.
“Who lets a child come to a coffee shop on his own?”
“Do you see a parent, Violet?”
“We always use that as the head table.” The triplet in the fuzzy olive-green tank shook her head sadly. “Maybe someone should report he’s here on his own.”
Oh, for fuck’s sake. I was going to have to confess he was with me and that was not going to go well—
“Ah! Young Jonas! You were dropped off early? How kind of you to wait for me.” Ev breezed past the triplets and Violet. I wasn’t sure how much of their judgy conversation he’d heard, but he sent me a smile as he effortlessly bailed me out. “You will sit next to me, yes?”
Jonas studied his iPod, chewing on his lower lip. Please say yes, I tried to beam at him. If he balked, this wasn’t going to work. Finally, he nodded. “Can I have a hot chocolate?”
Way to negotiate, kid. “Of course. Let me go order.” Ev smiled at him.
Because Ev the almighty had spoken, the women transformed into the other type of hens—coddling Jonas and making sure he was all set next to Ev’s usual seat.
“Everything okay?” Ev asked in a low voice as he came up to the counter.
“Yeah—” I started, then stopped. This was Ev, the one person who might get it. “No, it isn’t. Renee couldn’t watch him. He can’t be home alone—”
“Of course not.” Ev nodded. He’d heard enough Jonas stories from me on the phone that he understood Jonas’s special needs in a way Renee didn’t seem capable of. “You should have called me. I am thinking about doing some children’s classes and projects at the store.”
“You’re a lifesaver.” My chest expanded at how ready he was to help me. Ever since Mom died, it had been only me and Renee, with no one to call for backup. Hadn’t even occurred to me that Ev and I were that kind of friends—the hey-I’m-in-a-jam kind—but I guessed we were. It felt weird. I’d spent so many hours trying desperately not to need he
lp, to prove to the social workers and the doubters that I was up for the task. But every time I vented to Ev, it felt like a crane knocking away another chunk of concrete from my shoulders.
“It is nothing.” He waved the praise away.
“It’s not. And I’m sure Mira agrees—bet she’s thrilled you’re doing more with the store. Everything okay?” I wasn’t sure exactly how to ask how Mira’s treatments were going. Ev never wanted to talk about them on the phone. I hoped eventually he’d let me reciprocate his willingness to help and open up about his worries about Mira like he had that night in the kitchen.
“I will be around a bit longer. It is okay, though—only some minor setbacks. It is not like I am in a rush, and I’ve thought about doing classes for a while. In fact, I’m going to run back over, get him some big needles and thick yarn—”
“I’ll pay,” I said, my throat all thick and tight.
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Ev waved the offer away. “He is my test case. We must see if I am capable of teaching any young people to knit before I start charging for it. He is doing me a favor. You will see.”
Fifteen minutes later, Ev was back with a large ball of yellow yarn—Jonas’s favorite color—and some thick wooden needles that looked pricey even from a distance and a sign-up sheet for Knit Night members who would be interested in a children’s class. Leave it to Ev to turn my misfortune into an opportunity and further sell the Knit Night ladies on his brilliance. In fact, not a single person complained about Jonas, and Violet and the triplets doted on him. To my surprise, Jonas preened under all the attention. He was a typical middle kid at home—quietly enduring the chaos of the twins as they demanded all the energy Renee and I had to give. But here, he was laughing and actually talking as Mira slipped him pieces of the cookie she was supposed to be eating.
Gathered Up Page 7
