Page 63 of Glitterland
“Right. So you’re saying I should jack in writing and become a rentboy?”
“What? No!” He paused, his eyes narrowing, and then he grinned. “Ah. Okay, okay. You got me. You was just messing abaht.”
I pressed my face into his thigh, my shoulders shaking as I tried to stop laughing.
He cleared his throat. “I say,” he said, in an outrageous RP accent, “suck me off at once. Rar.”
I glared at him in outrage. “I do not sound like that! I’ve never said ‘I say.’ Or ‘rar.’”
“Get on wif it, peasant.”
I bit his leg, hard enough to make him gasp. And then drew his cock back into my mouth, so devoted to the act of pleasing him that I barely flinched when the head nudged the back of my throat. I drowned in the scent and the taste of him, pausing in my attentions to steal a glimpse at his face. His eyes were closed, the lashes casting crescent shadows over his cheeks, his mouth slightly open. He looked enraptured. And beautiful.
His eyes flicked open, catching me in an act that felt far more intimate than putting his cock in my mouth. He smiled. Stupid man. He touched me gently on the shoulder, twisted a lock of my hair around his finger, and I hollowed my cheeks and fucked him with my mouth. His hand tightened convulsively in my hair. The other groped for the pillow and dumped it back over his face. I reached up and pulled it away, tossing it over my shoulder. I heard it crash into something, but I didn’t care enough to stop.
“Aw, babes,” he muttered, twisting about like he was trying to stop himself thrusting.
He let me go, covering his eyes with the heels of his hands, elbows closing over his face like a theatre curtain. But I could still hear him, his frantic breath, and the strange, endearing hiccoughs of his swallowed moans.
In a while, when he was so close I could practically taste it, I sat back. “Like this? Or?”
“’Owever you wannit, babes. Long as it ’appens.”
I looked up at him, sprawled all sweaty, desperate, and blissfully undone on my Egyptian cotton sheets.
“Can I fuck you?”
“Course.”
I pushed him back and crawled over him, a glide of skin, smooth as glass and water, but so hot and real, taut and trembling with desire. His arms came around me and we were kissing, messy and urgent in a collision of mouths. I reached beyond him to the drawer of my bedside table, rummaging around blindly until I found a condom and some lube.
“You got some kinky stuff in there, babes,” said Darian cheerfully, tucking a pillow under himself.
“Shut up or I’ll use it on you.”
He hooked a leg over my hip, and I pushed a slickened finger into him, followed by another, teasing the tight muscle to receptiveness. Darian’s concentration face was back, a thin little line standing out between his brows.
“I won’t hurt you.” I pressed forward to drop another kiss on him.
His head was thrown back against my pillows. “You ain’t.”
I wrapped my free hand round his cock and gave it a reassuring stroke. He squeezed his eyes shut, teeth biting his lower lip.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nuffin…just prob’ly look stupid.”
“You look amazing.”
That won a tiny smile.
“So hot. It’s um…” What was it he said? “Well special.”
The worst of it was, I meant every word. I put a hand beneath his leg and knelt between his thighs, ripping open the condom with my teeth, then rolling it on and lubing up one handed. A glance at his face confirmed he was trying not to laugh.
“Don’t you dare.”
“Such a pro, babes.”
