Page 156 of Icing on the Cake

I uncap the tube of icing and bring it to the smooth, golden skin of his left ass cheek. Slowly and carefully, I trace a festive design.

Gerard shivers, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps as I work. I can see the tension in his body by the way his ass muscles flex and twitch at the sensation of cold icing on his warm flesh.

I switch to Gerard’s right ass cheek, the tube of icing hovering above his smooth skin to continue the design. Gerard’s breathing turns ragged, and his fingers claw the counter.

The sounds of fighting, cursing, and the occasionalburst of laughter from Drew and Jackson filter into the kitchen, reminding me that we’re not alone in the house. One of them could walk in and catch us in this compromising position at any moment. But instead of feeling anxious or embarrassed, I find myself excited by the risk.

I bite my lip, concentrating as I add flourishes and swirls to the curve of Gerard’s ass.Soon, the design takes shape beneath my hands. It’s a bunch of candy canes, as that’s about all I can draw.

Gerard’s head hangs low, and his back tenses as I continue my work. Knowing I can reduce this big, strong hockey player to a trembling mess makes me feel as powerful as Superman.

I add some final touches to the candy canes before stepping back to admire my handiwork with a critical eye. It’s not perfect—the lines are shaky, and the curves aren’t entirely symmetrical. But no one said I was Picasso.

“There. All done.” I cap the tube of icing and set it aside.

Gerard lifts his head and twists his body to try and catch a glimpse of my creation. “What is it?”

“Candy canes.”

Gerard huffs out a laugh. “Only you would think to decorate my butt like a Christmas cookie.”

I shrug, unrepentant. “What can I say? Baking cookies with you was fun, but this”—I wave a hand at my artwork—“is icing on the cake.”

He groans at the terrible pun. “You’re ridiculous.”

I smirk, encouraged by Gerard’s reaction. “You love it.”

He doesn’t deny it, just shifts his hips slightly to inadvertently present his ass to me like an offering. And who am I to refuse such a tempting treat?

I sink to my knees behind him, and my hands come up to grip the firm globes of his ass. The icing is cool and sticky beneath my palms. I lean in, my breath ghosting over the curve of his cheeks.

Gerard shivers, a soft gasp escaping his lips as I press a gentle kiss to his left ass cheek. My tongue swiftly darts out to trace the spiraling lines of the design. The sweetness of the icing mingleswith the salty tang of his skin. It’s a potent combination that makes my head spin.

I take my time, savoring the moment as breathy moans fall from Gerard’s lips. I nibble and suck at the tender flesh, leaving behind a trail of reddened marks that stand out starkly against his pale skin.

Gerard rocks his hips back against my face in a silent plea for more, and I oblige him as I work my way across to his right cheek. He lets out a low, guttural moan, and the sound sends a burst of fire straight to my groin.

“Elliot,” he gasps, his voice ragged and strained. “That feels amazing.”

Pride swells in my chest at his compliment. Emboldened, I spread his cheeks apart, exposing the tight pink furl of his hole. Gerard tenses, a startled gasp escaping his lips as he realizes my intentions.

I lean in and drag the flat of my tongue over his entrance in one long, slow lick.

“Holy snickers!” His ass bucks back against my face.

I grin, pleased with his reaction, and do it again, swirling my tongue around the puckered rim. Gerard babbles a string of incoherent pleas as his hole flutters and clenches, trying to draw me in deeper. And I do by pointing my tongue and thrusting it inside.

When I breach the tight ring of muscle, Gerard lets out a choked sob. His hands scrabble at the countertop, fingernails digging harder into the marble.

I work my tongue in a steady rhythm, thrusting in and out of Gerard’s hole. His taste is intoxicating—musky and masculine, with a hint of sweetness from the icing. I can’t get enough. I bury my face between his cheeks, my nose pressing against his body as I tongue-fuck him with abandon.

Gerard’s thighs tremble with the effort of keeping himself upright. His toes curl in his fuzzy socks. “Please, Elliot. I need to touch myself. Can I take my hand off the counter? I’m so close…”

I consider denying him so that I can drawthis out even longer. But the desperation in his tone undoes me. I pull back enough to murmur against his slick hole, “Go ahead, babe. Touch yourself for me.”

Gerard sobs in relief as he immediately releases his right hand from the counter. It flies to his straining erection. The sound of his hand working over his cock is loud and desperate.

I redouble my efforts, fucking my tongue into him harder, faster. Gerard’s hand becomes a blur on his dick as he rubs it with quick, frantic strokes. His breathing grows erratic, interspersed with high-pitched whines and grunts.

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