Page 94 of I'm Your Guy
“A regret?” I ask as goosebumps rise all over me. “Already?”
“Yeah. Kinda wish I’d gone for the four-poster bed.” He runs a hand up my bare leg. Slowly. Like he’s taking measure of me. “I think I understand the possibilities now.”
“Do you?” my voice cracks as he takes my thighs in two hands and parts my legs.
Oh God. He’s going to go down on me, and I’m going to let him. We both know it. This man is not the least bit unsure of himself. He knows his own mind. I can tell, because he’s practically blowing mine.
“Give me your hands,” he orders.
I offer them immediately, palms up.
He wastes no time pinning them to the mattress. “Now don’t move. I’ve never done this before, so need you to hold very still.”
“O-okay.” My whole body flushes with heat. “Can do.”
He drops his lips to my thigh and drags a path of kisses along my skin. I shiver, and his hands tighten against mine. “Still,” he repeats.
“Got it.”
And then? The jerk spends the next five minutes teasing the hell out of me, dropping kisses on my inner thighs and then brushing his lips, and his beard, against the root of my cock.
“Are you hesitating?” I growl. “Or just mean?”
“Don’t rush the new guy,” he says maddeningly.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake.”
He laughs, but he also palms my cock. Then he lowers his chin and takes my tip into his mouth. He’s very deliberate about it, his dark eyes thoughtful. The way he does everything.
He’s still got my hands pinned to the bed, with a forearm weighing down one of my thighs. I don’t have a lot of mobility, so all I can do is watch and breathe through my desire as he opens his mouth wider and slides me onto the heat of his tongue.
Then he moans, and the vibration makes my nipples tighten.
“Fuck,” I pant, my hips giving an involuntary twitch.
His hands increase their grip in a wordless reminder not to move. Then he tilts his chin, takes me deeper, and experiments with a good, hard suck.
I groan, trying not to thrust. But I’m dying, here.
He releases me with a pop. “You taste good.”
“Nnngh,” I say again.
“Hands on the sheet. Hold them still yourself, because I need to use mine.”
“Okay,” I gasp, flipping my palms onto the cotton.
“Good boy.”
The praise lights me up, because that’s how I’m wired. Later, I’ll probably wonder how a self-professed “new guy” so easily got my number.
But right now, I don’t care. I tip my head back against the mattress and close my eyes as one of his thumbs begins a tour of my shaft. Then strokes my balls.
Meanwhile, he’s using his mouth to slowly drive me insane. Every swipe of his tongue makes me want to thrust into his mouth. But he told me not to move, so I try my best.
Maybe Tommaso doesn’t have any experience with this, but he sure seems to be enjoying it. He’s experimenting with the speed and the pressure. And every time I groan, he makes an answering grunt of pleasure.
How is this my life? I open my eyes to make sure he’s real, and I find him watching me. “Bend your knees,” he says.
