Page 11 of Delicious
Because, fuck, he tastes good, like peppermint. He smells good, like almonds—maybe from his shampoo. He looks good—that sexy dark hair a little rumpled from my fingers.
Iwanthim.
When we get to my bed, I lie back and he climbs over me, lowering his body on top of mine. I groan in satisfaction, but I don’t want to push him too far, because besides his condition for the past day or so, I realize… “You’ve never been with a guy before.”
Ben smiles and shakes his head. “Only in my dreams.”
“Then I want to make sure you’re okay with whatever we’re doing.”
“I know, dude,” he says. “I’m good with it. I’m perfectly capable of pushing you off. Especially since I’m on top.”
“You don’t have to push me. Just say ‘stop’ or ‘no’ or whatever.”
He leans down and kisses me. “I’m sayingcome on.”
I reevaluate what we’re doing, though. I have to ask, even though I don’t want to fuck up the mood. “You were just sick. I don’t want to do anything that will make you feel bad.”
Swallowing hard so his Adam’s apple bobs, Ben nods. “I don’t think I’m ready for anything too heavy, but we can both get off. Cool?”
“Very cool.” I tug his shirt off over his head.
Ben’s all toned torso and rangy limbs. He’s not huge or built or anything, but you can tell he travels for a living—that he’s on the go and moving from place to place.
I want to savor him, because he’s truly delicious.
He helps me take my shirt off, but I don’t make it easy for him, since I’m running my hands all over his body, kissing everywhere I can reach. I love how warm he is and how soft his skin feels over his solid muscles.
Flopping onto my side, I tug him to me, nose to nose, knees to knees. My fingers skim along his bare torso—up his side, down his arm. He reaches for me, and we kiss leisurely, tongues meeting, almost taking sips of each other.
Slowly, I reach down and undo the button of his jeans, then open the zipper. With a shimmy, he shoves his pants partway off, and his erect dick pops out. I grin against his neck.
When I start to stroke him, he leans into me, hissing, “Yes.”
“Let me get some lube,” I say. Then I eye him and his mouthwatering cock. “Or let me do this?”
I crawl down and end up with my nose at his groin, then stick out my tongue and lick his hard dick.
“Oh, please,” he whispers.
I’ve been with guys, although not a ton. But I know what I like done to me, so I do it to him—basically getting a rhythm and suction going and not letting up. He writhes under me and then hisses, “Stop.”
Pulling back immediately, I put up my hands. “Of course.”
“It’s not that. You’re good. Too good. Get naked. I want to touch you.” He peels off the rest of his clothes.
“You got it.” I worry for a moment that he’ll be tentative or shy away once he’s this close to a naked man, but as soon as I kick off my pants and underwear, he’s on me, kissing me, his hands roaming down my sides. I sigh into him.
There’s something about the way he feels on top of me—not just the heat of his body or the sleekness of his skin, but the way the hairs of his thighs bristle against mine, the way his erection rubs against my own, the way he kisses me as he presses into me, that’s overwhelming.
I reach down to palm his ass, then concentrate on kissing him even as I buck into him. “Lemme get some lube,” I whisper, and he nods, letting up a bit so I can scoot to the side and get it.
I pour some into my hand and slick up his cock, stroking deliberately and quickly. I can’t get enough of the wild look in his eyes, like he’s lost in pleasure and is trying to hang on to something resembling reality—but it’s only by a thread.
My hand shuttles up and down, watching how into it he is. Watching him lose control. Watching the gorgeous way he writhes.
“Coming,” he whispers, and I stroke him through his orgasm, letting him tell me when to stop. When he’s done, I use the lube already on my hand, plus his come, to stroke myself until he bats my hand away.
“Let me.”
