Page 95 of I'm Your Guy
“What? Like this?” I drag my heels toward my ass.
“Yeah.” He rises up on his knees, props my shins against his bare chest, and bends me in half.
Then he casually slicks up a finger in his mouth before brushing it down my crease.
“Fuuuuuuck.” My whole body tightens. I’m so turned on, my muscles tense with the need for release.
Shameless now, he takes me in his mouth again, his hand stroking my taint.
It’s too much. “I’m so close.”
He pulls off. I expect him to finish me with his hand, like we did last night. But that’s not what happens.
With the agility of a professional athlete, he spins his body around until we’re positioned sixty-nine style, with him on top. Which means I’m suddenly gazing up at what must be the most perfect specimen of a male erection that ever graced the planet.
Before I’ve even had a moment to admire it, it comes closer. He’s on all fours, poised over my body, taking me into his mouth once again and using one hand to nudge his cock between my lips.
I open on a moan. And then it’s like someone fired the starting gun at the start of a race. I sprint toward the finish line, thrusting into his mouth while grabbing his hips to bring his cock more deeply into mine.
There’s no finesse. We’re both too hyped up to care about technique. All I can do is hold on and take it as he pistons into my mouth.
It’s the noise he makes that sends me over the edge. A sudden, soul-deep groan and I’m done for. I slap his hip to warn him, but he doesn’t release me. He just takes it.
Bright colors burst against my eyelids, and my body shakes with my release.
He holds on for a moment, then lifts his head, letting out half a laugh. “Fuck, I…” He pulls out suddenly, grabs his cock, and comes with a moan all over my abs.
And all I can do is lie here and try to breathe. My heart is whirring inside my chest. I’m sure I’m red-faced and disheveled, but I’ve never been so satisfied in my life.
Tommaso gets up while I’m still made of jelly. He trots into the bathroom and returns a minute or two later with a wet cloth, which he uses to wipe up my torso with careful strokes.
Then? He fetches the comforter off the floor and pulls it over both of us, rolling me into his arms once his head hits the pillow.
Now I’m being cuddled by a big, muscular hockey player. And I’m too spent to remember why I felt guilty about it half an hour ago.
THIRTY-THREE
Tommaso
Silence descends on the bedroom. I’m all wrung out, in the best possible way.
This is a new feeling—a little like the exhaustion that comes after a hard practice, but tinglier.
Sex had always been fraught with my wife. I was always just trying to get through it without embarrassing myself.
This feels totally different. My body is relaxed in a way I don’t think I’ve ever felt before, with Carter tucked against me, skin to skin. I can feel his heartbeat against mine, and my mind is a calm, floaty buzz, courtesy of endorphins.
“You okay?” he asks eventually.
“I’m the best I’ve ever been.”
He laughs, but I’m not really kidding. It’s like I’ve been taken apart and put back together again in a much better way.
What a difference a few hours make. Last night—when Gia called—I was in despair, shaken by the reminder that anyone I love can always be snatched away.
My mother’s illness has been terrifying. But also really clarifying. I’ve fallen in line with her new motto—don’t wait to be happy—and I’m naked with a great guy and sexually satisfied for the first time in my life.
So this is how the other half lives.
