Page 113 of The Prodigal Son

With one hand on my throat, he pulls me to my feet. Then, with a ravenous look on his face that is burned in my memory, he sticks out his tongue and licks a long line across my cheek, cleaning up his own release from my face.

“Holy shit, that was hot,” I whisper before kissing him hard. Our tongues tangle salaciously, the saltiness of his release bursting with flavor in our fused mouths.

He’s still eager for more as he fumbles with the zipper on my pants. I really should stop him, but I can’t help it. It’s been days since I felt his touch and I miss it. When he slides his hand in to grab my cock, I stifle a groan.

“Get on your knees, and let me feed you my cock,” I whisper into his ear with a hand on his shoulder. He moves to the floor without hesitation. I have to bite my bottom lip with how sexy he looks as he kneels in front of me. He’s staring at me as if he’s starving for my cock.

Holding my length at the base, I place the other hand on the back of Isaac’s neck and slowly slide my shaft between his lips. He sucks on it noisily.

“Better keep it down,” I whisper to him. “We wouldn’t want anyone to walk in and find you on your knees for me.”

He moans quietly around my cock as his head bobs up and down. Getting the base nice and wet, he grips it firmly and strokes it in time with his mouth. I let myself fall into the ecstasy of it. Staring across the room, I take in the large desk where his father once sat.

In some filthy fantasy, I imagine that I’m proving to that man who Isaac belongs to now. He’smine. He will always be mine.

Isaac picks up his pace, tightening his lips around the tip of my cock, and it’s so intense I can’t last another minute. “Shit, Isaac, I’m coming.”

Shivers roll up my spine as my body seizes around him. I hold tight to Isaac’s head as my cock reaches the back of his throat. He spits and sputters, trying to take every drop of my cum. I’m so strung out on the pleasure of the climax that I almost miss the heavenly sight of Isaac swallowing down every bit. Not a single drop lands anywhere else.

“That’s my good boy,” I whisper as I stroke his head lovingly.

We’re both locked in some post-orgasm haze, and I’m not sure how long we stay like this. Eventually, I pull him to his feet and gather him into my warm embrace.

“We should…get cleaned up for dinner,” he says with his face in my neck, and I can’t help but laugh. Soon, we’re both lost in a fit of quiet laughter. My arms wind around him, holding him close and soaking in this moment.

“Let’s get down there.”

When Isaac and I come out of the office, the fighting downstairs seems to be over, which is a relief. I’m sure that casserole is ice cold by now, but after the appetite Isaac and I just worked up in that office, I’ll eat it, anyway.

After a quick stop in the bathroom, we descend the stairs and find that the family is no longer in the living room. Instead, they are gathered around the table. It would appear Adam never showed up after all.

Everyone is staring at us as we enter the room, and a blush rises to my cheeks. Caleb is laughing under his breath as Isaac and I walk down to the empty seats at the table.

“Sorry,” Isaac says, clearing his throat. “I didn’t know you guys were eating. I just needed to get away for a second.”

“It’s okay, darling,” his mother says. “We just sat down. Haven’t even said grace yet.”

“Where’s Adam?” Isaac asks as he takes a seat at the table.

“Something came up at work,” his mother says with a grimace. “We didn’t tell him.”

Sadly, Isaac nods. “That’s okay.”

The tension between Caleb and Luke has seemed to die down enough to make things bearable. The man with the buzz cut at Caleb’s side has his hand on his leg in comfort, and I think it’s doing a lot to settle his nerves.

“Jensen,” Isaac’s mother says sweetly. “Would you like to do the honors and say grace tonight?”

I pull in a deep breath before turning toward Isaac to gauge his reaction. I’ve never even prayed with Isaac before. It feels like my work as a preacher and my life with Isaac are two very different lives.

He gives a subtle nod as his lips press together.

“I’d love to,” I reply before turning my gaze downward.

For the briefest moment, a flush of shame courses through me. I’m a fraud. A liar.

You’re a failure. You don’t deserve to speak to God.

Closing my eyes, I push those thoughts away.

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