Trust (London Love #5)

He came back up for air again. “When we have more privacy…I’ll sit on your cock. Let you fill me up. Stretch me so good as I sink down on you. So big. Big enough that it will take a bit. Slow going. A little at a time until you’re all the way in. Then I’ll ride you, your cock so deep inside of me I’ll be able to feel you…everywhere. Hard. Fast. You like that idea? And I’ll be jerking off…”

No joke. I came. Right there and then, and his mouth wasn’t even anywhere near my cock. My brain just went blank and I exploded.

Yeah. Oh, yeah.

He watched me, his eyes full of everything that he was.

A little funny. Warm. Kind.

Reaching his arms around me, he carefully lay me down on the bed and held me.

“Oops,” I said. Yeah, I was no wordsmith.

“Didn’t get to taste you,” he whispered, kissing my cheek. “But baby, that was hot.”

“Was it?” My brain was still out in action. “Don’t call me that.”

“I’m still hard. Might have to get myself off against your hip here. Won’t take much.”

He was placid. Soft and warm against my skin as I turned him around so I could spoon him, pressed my lips against his neck as I got him into position.

I had no idea what I was doing.

“You are my baby,” he said. “You’re two years younger than me, so whatever.”

My dick twitched as he got himself off.

Right next to me. Touching himself.

I had no idea why that was so freaking hot.

Well, it was working, whatever it was. Hand on his cock, firm strokes, up, down, my mouth sucking into his skin as my hips jerked. Wow. This…

His body stretched out, his breath hitching.

He would have bruises tomorrow. Marks all over his neck.

I had no idea why the thought of that was making me hard. Again.

Oh, yeah.

Swatting his hand out of the way, I folded my fingers around his dick. I stroked it, gliding my thumb over the head, caressing his foreskin. Down. Then up again. Slow, circular movements.

“Come,” I whispered, my hand moving faster as his breaths got louder, became moans—sounds of pleasure that I was getting out of him.

He reached up and pinched his nipple. I wanted to do that to him, but both my hands were busy. What I could do, and did, was push him down and latch my mouth over that hard bud. Scraped it with my teeth. Locked my lips over it as he finally let go and his body went rigid, his cock spilling warmth and wetness over my hand.

I kept moving, so I could pump it all out of him, let him ride that wave as I planted kisses all over his chest.

I still had no idea what I was doing.

I’d never realised how much I’d needed this. To do this. Look after him, like I was doing now.

He looked so incredibly beautiful, even under the stark light from the old strip light in the ceiling, his skin pale against my sheets, his eyes closed but that smile forming on his face. Happy. Satisfied. Sated.

“Reubs,” he said, then giggled.

I snorted.