Page 36 of Matteo's Mettle
“Sorry, Daddy.”
“Good boy.”
Another moan escapes him. “London,” he pleads, “you’re killing me.”
Taking pity on him, or, really, on myself, because I can’t remember the last time I was this hard, I close the distance between us and roll him onto his back so I can crawl over him, allowing his hands to roam over the camisole he bought for me. He obediently spreads his legs and I grind my cock against his, the soft lace between us becoming wet with the evidence of our mutual arousal.
“I love the lingerie, sweetheart,” I whisper against his lips, my breath teasing him, knowing that he wants me to close that last little bit of distance and kiss him stupid.
“Me too,” he agrees, teasing my nipples through the silky soft fabric that covers them. “It’s like wrapping paper for the world’s best present.”
This time, I can’t contain my chuckles. “God, I love you.” It’s a thrill to say those words again, this time pressed against him in bed as we are, practically naked and writhing.
This seems to push him beyond the limits of his control and he surges forward, capturing my lips and rolling us until we’ve switched positions. Then his hands pull down the thong I’m wearing, throwing it across the room, and he straddles my hips.
“Whoa,” I wrench our lips apart when he guides the tip of my cock to his hole. “Stop. Lube, babe.”
Sitting up, still straddling me, Matt smirks down at me and gestures to the open bottle of lube on the bedside table. “You were taking your time getting changed,” he explains, “so…I took a little initiative.”
He prepped for me. I smother a groan. “Next time, I want to watch,” I tell him, hearing the gravelly quality of my own voice while my dick jerks at the images my brain has conjured. “But, fuck, sweetheart, if that’s not the hottest thing ever…”
Still, my fingers travel beneath him, wanting to be sure that he’s ready to go. I sink two in with very little resistance and scissor them while he works his hips.
“Please…” Matt practically whimpers when I deliberately graze his prostate.
“Okay, baby. Okay.” I grab for the lube and slick my cock up, clicking the cap shut and tossing the bottle back in the general direction of Matt’s side of the bed. “Ride me, sweetheart.”
He doesn’t need to be told twice. We both moan as he slowly sinks down on top of me until I’ve bottomed out. I give him a moment to breathe and adjust, and then he begins to move, bouncing on my cock in earnest.
I love watching him like this. His golden skin glistens with a thin sheen of sweat, and his muscles ripple with every movement. But the best part is watching him control his own pleasure. He sets the pace, clenching around my cock on every upward motion, swiveling his hips and taking what he needs from me while I rock my own hips up to meet him at the rhythm he’s setting.
When my hand closes around his cock, pumping him in time with his bouncing, he throws his head back, his mouth falling open as his eyes drift shut. His hands drift over my camisole, though, traveling the peaks and valleys of my skin over the now sweat-dampened fabric.
I can tell he’s getting close, knowing the signs of his impending orgasm as well as I know my own now. His breathing hitches and his fingers clench in the lace over my pecs while he picks up speed with his hips.
“Da…Daddy,” he pants, “London…fu…uuuhhh,” I want to chuckle at the way he only just manages to censor himself, but I’m about to go over the edge myself. “Coming. I’m…ungh…I’mcoming.”
I love the way he makes the declaration, despite the fact that it’s not something I can miss happening. I don’t even think he knows he’s doing it. He’s just vocal and it’s all sorts of hot and endearing all at once.
I shout incoherently as his orgasm pulls mine from me, the clenching around my cock milking everything I’ve got. He slumps down on top of me, my cock still inside him, while we catch our breaths. We’re a sweaty, sticky, sated mess and I’m awash in the afterglow of our exuberant love making.
It just reaffirms my decision to choose my relationship over my potential promotion. Work could never make me feel this content.
“I love you,” Matt says, nuzzling his bearded face into the crook of my neck. “You said it again and I didn’t.”
Snickering, I rub my hand soothingly over his back. “We’re not keeping score, baby. But I do like hearing you say it.”
“Mmm,” he nibbles at my skin, almost as if he can’t get enough of me. “Then I’ll say it every chance I get.”
“Me too, sweetheart. I promise.”
Chapter Thirteen – Matteo
Ishould feel guilty that London turned down a promotion for me. I really should. But, instead, all I can feel is relief. It’s a strange sensation to be someone’s priority, but an addictive one all the same. That said, we talked about it some more over dinner last night, and I made it clear that if his company is willing to be flexible, London should still consider his options.
I’d love to be able to make some sort of grand gesture of my own, to offer to move with him and uproot my own life, but that’s not really feasible. I’ve only just settled in here. I have close friends for the first time in over a decade. I have a job I enjoy, and I love living in the home I grew up in. I felt insanely selfish for telling him these things, but London just shook his head and gave me one of his indulgent smiles and reassured me that he understood.
I’ve really lucked out with him.
