by Lily Morton
Now however it’s all that I can think about and I push him back, stepping down off the treadmill so that we’re once again the same height. I lift up his t-shirt and strip it off quickly, displaying the broad width of his chiselled torso. I pause to caress this, pinching his nipples sharply so that he chokes out a gasp and his hips punch the air. I quickly undo his shorts letting them fall to his feet as he kicks of his shoes, and then my busy fingers are sliding his briefs down, caressing the defined ‘v’ of his pelvic muscles and sliding my hands round to grip his firm, tight arse.
Then all clothing gone I stand back looking him over deliberately. He stands proudly, his shoulders back, arms hanging at his side and legs spread slightly. I look at the dusky mound of his sack drawn up tight under his cock which stands proudly against his stomach throbbing visibly. He’s cut unlike myself, and the mushroomed head is an angry purple colour with a drop of pre come glistening on the slit already.
My mouth waters and I grab his hand gesturing to the treadmill. “Lie on there,” I say hoarsely and he raises one eyebrow and smirks, but then lies back gracefully, his body arching beautifully under my avid stare.
“Spread your legs,” I command, and he does so as his cock jumps and thuds against his stomach in anticipation. The treadmill puts him at an almost perfect angle for what I have planned, but it just needs a little adjustment so I reach over and raise the incline.
The machinery whirs and raises him at an angle so that his head is slightly higher than his lower body, like he’s lounging on a sunbed. Perfect - now he can see everything. I’ve discovered with him that the visuals can make me hot enough to come without any contact and I want him to have the same pleasure.
Holding his eyes I lower myself slowly to my knees in between his spread legs and view my bounty, taking my time. His chest rises and falls sharply and I hear him start to pant as I reach forward and start to kiss his chest, swirling my tongue around the muscles until I reach the copper discs of his nipples. I pause there to lick and suckle feeling the whorled flesh under my tongue and relishing the taste of clean sweat and something that’s just him. I move from his nipples biting gently down on his chest and sucking hard, raising marks on his skin and making him writhe against me.
He groans harshly and I feel his hands come up to grab my skull, holding me to him as his body seeks more. His fingers slide in my hair, a sensual touching. He seems to love my hair, showing a keen appreciation for the slight curl to it when I haven’t brushed it down. Today however I remove his hands, making a chiding noise as he groans and closes his eyes tightly in frustration and grips the sides of the treadmill.
“No touching,” I murmur and make my way down his strong torso, coming close but then veering away from the angry length of his cock.
“Johnny,” he groans. “Please.”
“Not yet.” I kiss down his lower abdomen licking and biting the muscles under the taut skin, and trail the broad part of my tongue down the blonde hair of his happy trail and then further down until I reach his groin. I nestle my face into the space where his thigh meets his groin, inhaling the scent of him here where it’s fuller and darker and makes my fucking mouth water.
I lift my fingers as I nuzzle the blonde curls in his crotch and cup his balls gently, rolling them in my hands until he pants and groans feverishly. “Johnny please,” he chokes out and then gives a grunt as I take one of his balls into my mouth, licking and sucking it gently
“Fuck” he shouts loudly, his head rolling from side to side. “That’s so fucking good Johnny. I love it.” His voice trails off to an inarticulate groan as I pay equal attention to the other ball. When he’s writhing uncontrollably I pause and look at him and swallow hard because he looks utterly debauched. His torso is drenched in sweat, dark marks lie on his skin showing proudly where I have bitten him, and his cock is sloppy with pre come welling out of the slit.
It makes my mouth water and before I can second guess myself I lean over him and take the broad flanged head into my mouth, sucking gently and tasting the bitter tang of his pre come. I let it wash over my taste buds. It’s salty and bitter but oddly arousing and I let go and start to experiment, sending my tongue down the length of his shaft and bathing it in wetness as he chokes and pants.
There’s something so powerful about doing this that I didn’t expect. To have a powerful, strong man like Matt writhing and moaning and utterly at my command is highly erotic, to the extent that I can feel pre come beading wetly in my shorts. I take him into my mouth again, sucking him back down my throat until I gag and he mutters, incomprehensible snatches of words floating out. “Take it easy. Don’t hurt yourself. Fuck so good. Johnny, oh my God Johnny.”
Retreating slightly until I’m no longer in danger of gagging I find a comfortable length and grab the base of his cock and start to jack the rest of him. I think back to when he’s blown me before and what felt good, and I suck hard taking him in like I would an iced lollipop on a hot day and sending my tongue over the mushroomed head to wriggle into the slit and then underneath to the spot that always makes me writhe and scream.
His moans and groans grow in volume and I thank God for the sound proofing that prevents Odell from hearing. He’s lain still until now, his body tight with tension, and I think it’s so that I can get my bearings but now almost involuntarily his hips start to move, thrusting into my mouth until he stills with a concerned murmur.
I take my mouth off him, holding tight to the base of his cock. “Don’t worry,” I say thickly, my throat hoarse. “You won’t hurt me. I can stop you going too far so relax and let go.”
And he does. Grabbing my head his fingers dig into my hair and he starts to thrust against me, fucking my mouth with grunts and panting cries as I suck hard now and twist my hand around his cock at the same time.
Suddenly the noise and the thought of what we must look like is too much and I lower my free hand and rip my shorts down to my thighs, impatiently fisting my cock and giving a groan around his prick. He lifts his head, his face blissfully fucked out. “Yes Johnny touch yourself. Fuck your fist.”
I suck harder and his cock suddenly seems to lengthen and swell bigger. The taste of the pre come grows stronger and even before he announces it I know that he’s about to come.
“Johnny,” he pleads, grabbing my head and trying to pull me off, but I suck harder fisting myself faster, and suddenly his whole body tightens and arches and he gives out a heavy, choked grunt and his cock jerks in my mouth sending pulse after pulse of come down my throat. I swallow greedily and the eroticism of a man, of Matt, coming in my mouth, sets me off and I groan a garbled noise around his cock still swallowing as I unload into my hand and over the floor.
I release his cock with a wet pop knowing that he’ll be sensitive now and tenderly bathe it, licking away gently the stray drops that have landed on his stomach. “Johnny, Jesus Christ,” he whispers and I obey the tugging of his hands as he rolls off the treadmill to lie on the floor and pulls me down to him. I nestle into his side feeling the chill of the air conditioning wash across my heated skin and feeling his hands tenderly run through my hair as he pets me like a lion with its mate.
Then I swallow and make an inarticulate sound as I finally taste the residue of his come at the back of my throat. He laughs at me loudly, his eyes clear and shining and affectionate as I reach up for my water bottle and swig gratefully from it. “Jesus no one tells you that it burns,” I grouse as he laughs helplessly. “No really, it’s burning my throat and it tastes funky.”
He brushes my hair back off my forehead. “You’ll get used to it. In a few years you’ll almost be able to tell what the man you’re with ate for dinner.”
I stare at him feeling like I’ve been slapped. How can he mention me and other men so obliviously when the thought of him with anyone else makes my fist close?
Oblivious he carries on talking as he stares at the ceiling. “Pineapple’s a big show. You can always tell when a man’s eaten pineapple because it act
ually makes spunk taste sweeter.” He laughs easily as I stare at him, images flashing through my head and making my head and chest hurt.
I rub my chest absently and say the first thing that comes into my mind, anything to stop him casually discussing him swallowing other men’s spunk. “So you’re finished at the villa now?”
He stops laughing abruptly and looks almost startled. “I guess so yes.”
“And you’ll be going home soon?”
He swallows hard, his expression still enigmatic. “Yes I suppose I will. I’ve got a job to get back to.”
The casualness starts an ember of anger brewing in my gut. I gesture between us. “And us, what will happen when we’re both back in London?”
He doesn’t seem to want to look at me now awkwardness written all over him, and my heart sinks. “Well I suppose that will depend on you.”
My heart speeds up, happiness casting an elusive fairy wing over the organ. “What about me?”
He shrugs. “Well if you still want to hook up I’m game. It’s been a good week.” The last is said almost wistfully but I don’t pay attention to that as my happiness falls away.
“Hook up?” The question is sharper than I’d like, and it’s in my courtroom voice so his head shoots up.
“Yes, hook up. If you feel like a fuck and you’ve got no one to hand you can always ring me.”
“And that’s it?”
He shrugs and it’s clumsy for someone who’s usually so graceful. “That’s all it can be I think mate.” I want to shout at him not to call me mate because it’s so dismissive, but my throat has closed up and he carries on remorselessly. “I mean you don’t know whether you’re gay or bisexual, and what about your wife?”
“Ex-wife and what about her?” My words are cold now, the way that I am when I close down to someone. I used to do it at home all the time. I haven’t done it with him since before we became us, and he looks at me questioningly.
“Well three months ago you were trying to get back together with her.” He shrugs almost apologetically. “You’ve got a lot of problems to sort out John, a lot of decisions to be made. I can’t tie myself to you. It wouldn’t be fair.”
I swallow hard. Of course he doesn’t want my problems. “I understand,” I finally say coldly. “Who would want to be with anyone with so much baggage?” I get to my feet ignoring his hands which are trying to drag me back to him, as I walk over to my towel and start to wipe off the spunk that’s cooled on me now and is tacky. A bit like the ending to this I think slowly. Tacky and cool.
“Johnny.” He comes towards me his hands outstretched and a look of worry and almost hope in his warm brown eyes. “I didn’t mean … Baby did you want -”
The doorbell rings shrilly interrupting his stuttering words, and both our heads jerk to look towards the front of the house. “Who can that be?” I’m amazed at how cool and disinterested my voice sounds now, like I’m far away.
“Johnny,” he says urgently. “Don’t answer that please. Just listen to me.”
The doorbell rings again and for good measure someone raps urgently on it. Fending off his outstretched hand I open the gym door and move down the hall, glad to be away from him for the first time in three months. I feel stupid and foolish and sad. So sad.
I fling open the door but then stand and stare in astonishment. “Bella!”
She stands outside on the porch dressed in a purple flowered sundress, looking coolly fashionable and surrounded by suitcases, garment bags and a big vanity case. A taxi is parked on the drive and the driver is muttering under his breath and pulling more bags out.
“What are you doing here?” I ask dumbly.
She waves her hand casually. “I missed you darling and I sat there in Daddy’s house yesterday and I thought about you being in France too and why we were apart, and it was simple really.” I stare at her completely lost for words, and she tuts. “Pay the driver will you darling.”
I turn dutifully away, taking my wallet out of my pocket and paying the man who gives me a pitying look. I pace back up the steps to where she’s examining her face in her compact mirror. “Bella,” I say patiently. “You still haven’t told me why you’re here.”
She looks at me calmly, confidence written all over her and self-belief. It was this that had drawn me to her the first time that I’d met her at a house party in the country. She’d been so utterly sure of herself, so contained. She’d never really needed me. I was always just an accessory to her like a nice tennis bracelet. ‘This is my Cartier watch. This is my husband. He’s a lawyer and a member of the aristocracy.’
I’m suddenly aware that I’m staring at her open mouthed and she must take my silence for encouragement because she comes near to me, grabbing my arm with one hand and sending the other hand up to brush my hair back. I remember Matt doing that five minutes ago and jerk back, but she’s talking again. “You wanted to make another go of things darling so here I am. We can have the rest of the summer together and then go back to London as a proper couple again. We can even get married again if you want to. I know you said that if we renewed our vows again we’d do it in Italy, so let’s do it.”
I want to shout out that this was before she fucking divorced me, but the words don’t come as I hear a muffled gasp from behind me and Matt steps out of the hall and into the sunlight of the porch. He’s dressed impeccably again, looking cool and calm and not like he’s just been blown on a treadmill, and I jerk at the realisation that my ex-wife is talking reconciliation to me while I still have the taste of another man’s come in my mouth.
“And who’s this?” Bella asks, staring sharply at me.
I stare back struck dumb for a second, and Matt intervenes. “I’m Matthew Dalton,” he says, taking her hand gracefully. “A friend of John’s. He let me stay here for a few weeks while I completed a project in the area.”
She smiles up at him, obviously admiring his looks. Bella has always liked good looking men and Matt looks beautiful at the moment, all sun bloomed skin and tousled hair, his lips full and his eyes warm. However, I can see beyond that. He keeps biting at his lips which is why they look full and his long lean body is stiff with tension. He keeps shooting me sidelong looks that look almost imploring but I can’t deal with that at the moment. I feel almost numb like I’m watching everything happen from behind a sheet of glass. The sounds are muffled and the words indistinct.
Bella’s smile dims as she digests his words. “You’re staying here?”
He looks uneasy. “Yes.”
“But John never lets anyone stay here.”
“He’s a friend,” I say wearily, recognising the sign of temper brewing in the tightness of her lips. Bella is totally spoilt. Her father gave her everything that she ever wanted and I continued the trend through apathy, and the result is that when her plans are thwarted she can get nasty.
She turns back to me. “If we’re reconciling then we’re going to need peace and privacy sweetie. That’s obviously not going to happen now.”
Matt flinches and I open my mouth to tell her not to be rude and to tell her that we’re not reconciling, but thoughts of half an hour ago flash back with horrible clarity. The raw feeling in my chest and the almost tentative stirrings of happiness, followed by his casual dismissal and the fact that he could obviously not give two shits about me being with someone else. The way that he’d made it clear that my problems are my own and not something that he wants to help me deal with. That’s almost the worst of it because I want to help him with his problems. I want to help him maybe contact his mother again and be there for him, but my problem of sexual identity is just too much for him.
I feel a scalding embarrassment in my chest making my eyes feel hot and achy at the thought that I’ve obviously read way too much into what for him was just a summer dalliance, and I hate that that makes me sound like some sort of Jane Austen heroine. It’s emasculating and the sole reason that I don’t do deep emotions. They hurt.
I turn to him, loo
king at him as he stares back at me and Bella warbles on about reconciliation. I look at his warm eyes and scruffy, beautiful face and even though it hurts so much, I let him go. I suppose in reality he’s already done that himself and I don’t beg.
I turn back to Bella. “Matt’s going today anyway,” I say coldly. “His work here is done. Isn’t that true Matt?”
He stares back at me looking like he wants to throw up. “John is it possible that I could have a quick word?” he asks urgently.
I shake my head instantly and he flinches and out of the corner of my eye I see Bella’s gaze sharpen. I can’t do this and really I don’t want to. I want it over. “No need. You’ve finished here haven’t you?” I say tersely, and just like that the worry and concern fly away, his face once more smoothing back into the cold mask with which he’d always greeted me in London.
“Yes,” he says clearly. “I’m done here.”
Chapter 12
Song: ‘Magic’ by Coldplay
Three days later
Matt
I throw my pen onto the counter in Bram’s kitchen irritably and slam his diary shut. “You’re double booked,” I say crossly, staring at the offending book. “Fucking typical of Craig. That idiot couldn’t organise a fucking piss up in a brewery. He couldn’t get laid in a brothel.”
“Okay.” Bram’s Irish voice is calm. “You’ve established that your replacement assistant would have a hard time having fun anywhere, but how exactly has he caused the end of my world?”
I shoot him a glare, sending the diary spinning across the counter crossly. “Look at September 28th.”
He flips open the book his brow furrowed, and then he focuses on the entry before rubbing his nose. “So this double booking of a haircut and a suit measurement in a month’s time is the terrible error that you’re talking about?”
I huff. “You might not think that it’s important but in a month’s time you won’t be saying that.”
“No, no,” he hurriedly agrees, a smirk hovering on his lips. “We should really cancel Craig’s next job with NATO and let them know that they can either have a tailored suit or a proper haircut, but never at the same time.” He puts his hand to his cheek in mock horror. “The shame!”
