Page 18 of Grease & Grips
The smile he gives me is devastating. He runs his thumb up over my chin and presses it into my mouth. I suck at it instinctively. He eases my jaw open, eyes locked on mine reading every shaky thought behind them.
He cocks his head to study me like he’s trying to read something written under my skin. His thumb is still pressed into my mouth staking its claim right against my tongue.
“You’re gonna fuck me,” he says, voice low and sure. “But I’m in charge in here. Do you understand?”
He pulls his thumb from my mouth, spit trailing down my chin before he catches me by the jaw, fingers firm but careful. I swallow hard and give a jerky nod.
“I need to hear you say it. I want this to be good for us. I want you to feel good. So tell me you understand.”
“Yes…” I stammer out. “Yes Sir.”
“So you’re gonna take what I give you?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“You gonna let go and just be happy with what you get?”
Another breath, another nod. “Yes, Sir.”
His thumb grazes my bottom lip again. “Open up.”
Not sure if it’s instinct or need, but I obey. He leans back then spits into my mouth. Then he’s kissing me. Fast, rough, no space between us. All tongue and teeth and pure want.
It’s filthy. It’s feral. It’s perfect.
When he finally pulls back, I swipe the back of my hand across my mouth, dragging spit and whatever else with it, but I can’t stop smiling.
“Good boy,” he murmurs.
There’s this wave that hits me hard when he starts unbuttoning my shirt. Not panic. Hell, that’s been gone a while now. It ain’t fear either. Knowing this man, who crashed into my night outta nowhere, is about to take control doesn’t make me feel lost.
It makes me feel found.
I feelwanted.
I’ve spent so long thinking I was stuck, waiting on life to look a certain way before I could even try to be happy, but there’s so much freedom in letting go of what I thought it was supposed to be.
Turns out, wanting something good isn’t the trap. Holding on to the wrong idea of it is.
Right now, I don’t need to worry about a damn thing.
Once he gets my shirt off, he starts on my pants teasing between these lazy, hungry kisses that are turning my brain to mush. I lift my hips so he can yank off my pants and boxers in one fluid motion.
The second my cock springs free, heavy and flushed and already leaking against my stomach, he freezes.
Let me tell you… nothing makes a guy feel more exposed than being naked on a grimy auto shop couch while a beautiful man just stares at your dick like he’s seen God.
“Jesus Christ,” Andrés breathes. “I felt it when we were making out, but seeing it with my own eyes is even crazier.”
I glance down and wince. “It’s proportional to the size of my body.”
Andrés shakes his head, eyes full of delight. “No. It’s fucking huge.”
It’s not the first time I’ve heard it. Locker room talk. Whispers from the few married guys who fooled around on the down-low. There’s always been a comment, but it’s the only dick I’ve ever had, so I don’t think much of it. Never knew how to feel about it either way.
With Andrés staring at me I shift in my seat suddenly hyper-aware. Is it too big? Too intense? Too much for whatever this was supposed to be?
“I can see your wheels turning,” he says, eyes still locked on my cock. “Don’t freak out. I don’t mean it in a bad way. I’m kind of a size queen myself.”
