Page 13 of Mixed Motives

“Shh.” I cut him off with a kiss, then back away enough that he can see my face. “I want this. Want you. I just think it’s funny that all my fears go away when I’m with you.”

His startlingly blue eyes soften at that statement, and he reaches up and tugs me to him for more kisses. We taste like tea and muffins, and frankly, if there’s something better than it storming outside and me making out with the guy I have a crush on after drinking tea—well, I don’t want to hear about it. This is peak life for me.

We keep kissing, and his hands slip down into my clothes—his clothes—until he’s gripping my bare ass.

I whine. My cock is so sensitive, so ready to blow. Being here on top of him is just too much.

Keane seems to sense this, as he pulls back and tilts his head. “You need to come?” His voice is low and husky.

I don’t even bother pretending. “I do. So badly.”

“And you can come more than once, can’t you? I mean, in a short time?”

I nod.

“Then I want to see you come right now, but I’d like you to do two things.”

“Wha-what are they?”

“Stay on my lap. I want you here with me. And if you get any on my skin, you have to lick it off me.”

“Deal,” I say immediately.

“Touch yourself, sweetheart,” he murmurs, and I do.

I reach inside the pants again and start stroking, my ass bouncing a little on Keane’s thighs. He watches my face at first, but then gets distracted by the movement of my hand. I’m not trying to get myself off fast. I just want to feel good, so I’m taking my time. I caress my balls: one, then the other. I press under my taint. And then I grip the base of my cock, holding it for a moment.

He still can’t see my dick. But he can tell what I’m doing from the expression on my face and the way my arm moves, and I can tell he’s getting off on this. I am, too. I’m feeling so free.

I continue jacking myself inside the soft fabric, feeling wanton. Like I’m an exhibitionist. I’m putting on a show—except it’s very real in multiple regards. First, I want to turn him on. And second, this is how I actually pleasure myself. I want to show him this part of me.

Keane is a safe place.

“Fuck, that’s so hot,” he whispers. I’m not sure what he’s referring to, but when I shift to find a better position, the pants slide down a little more, and he takes the opportunity to put his hands on my hips, holding me.

“I love it when you touch me,” I admit.

“Then I’ll do it some more.” He slides his hands around my ass, palming the globes of my butt and squeezing. I wriggle as I stroke myself, and his hands keep exploring. Then he raises a finger and puts it in my mouth. “Suck,” he commands, and I do.

He groans, and then he moves his hand down, seeking my entrance.

Gently, he presses in as I rub one out on top of him, and I gasp, “Oh, God.”

His other hand holds me in place, and I pick up speed as his finger penetrates me, starting to open me up. The intrusion is welcome. I want this so much. I want him.

I want him to fuck me, but this teasing is also doing very good things.

My strokes are reaching a fever pitch. “I’m going to come,” I whimper.

His finger slides deeper, and between that and my hand on my dick, I come apart on top of him, my come spurting over my fist and onto his forearm.

I pant, letting my climax happen, letting my body shudder with pleasure, letting myself be with this man I’ve had a crush on for so long.

Then I collapse on top of him, far from sated. This took the edge off, but now I’m even more impatient for him to touch me. I want him inside me. I want him to take over.

“Lick,” he says, holding out his wrist where some of my come ended up. And I do, dutifully tasting my salty, bitter release.

Then he kisses me. “You’re the most beautiful boy. How would you like me to make love to you now?” He’s holding my face gently between his big hands—like I’m something precious. Something he wants to take care of.

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