Page 37 of Gift of You
“Matty. Baby, I’m going to come. Pull off if you don’t want...”
My words trailed off as he doubled down, pulling me deep into his mouth and sucking for all he was worth. I came with a screech, eyes squeezed shut and teeth gritted against the onslaught as the strength of it tore through me like a hurricane. I heard him swallow—felthim swallow—marveling at how a man who’d never touched another dick prior to yesterday could give a blow job so powerful it nearly had me blacking out.
I released his hair, my limbs turning to noodles as if he’d sucked every bit of energy and strength out of my dick. He wasn’t done, though. He pulled off, unzipping his own pants and drawing them down, along with his boxers, allowing his cock to spring free.
Climbing onto the bed and straddling me, he spat on his dick and began stroking himself, his movements fast and jerky, clearly desperate to get himself off. My sweater had slipped about halfway down, so I yanked it back up, exposing my torso to give him a larger target.
“That’s it, Matty. Come all over me. Mark me. Dirty me up.”
“That mouth,” he muttered, and then with a grunt, the first spurt of wet heat landed on my nipple—the same one he’d bitten just a few moments before.
“That’s it. So fucking hot.” More cum landed on my belly, pooling on my abs, and then with a final stroke, he spurted onto my sternum right above my heart.
He collapsed next to me, lying on his back, breathing heavily. I sat up just enough to pull my sweater up over my head, tossed it on the floor, then collapsed back on the bed.
Warm and sated, I drifted in a post-orgasmic haze while Matthew’s breathing finally evened out beside me. He linked hispinky in mine, the simple gesture causing my heart to execute one perfect flip-flop.
“You’re pretty fucking amazing, do you know that?” A snort was his only response. “May I ask what inspired that quite remarkable blow job? You were a man on a mission.”
“Maybe I was just horny.”
I rolled my head to look at him. “Maybe... but something tells me there’s more to it than that.”
He huffed out a breath, then rolled his head to face me. “I might have read a scene in my book. And it might have been the one that sort of started this all.”
“You might have?” I gave him my best shit-eating grin.
“Fucker,” he muttered, rolling up to a sitting position and scrubbing his hands down his face. “Wait here,” he said, then disappeared out of my room.
I heard the sounds of cabinets opening and closing, followed by water running, and then he was striding back into the room, gloriously naked, with a wet wash cloth in his hands. He frowned as he cleaned me up, showing me his sweet and salty side once again.
“There’s a scene in the book I’m recording,” he began, taking extra time to wipe me down without looking me in the eye. “It’s a blow-job scene. And the first time I read it, I sort of... got... hard.” When his eyes flicked to mine, I did my best to keep my expression neutral. “I ended up jerking off that night. Came harder than I had in... well, a very long time.”
He tossed the towel on the floor, finally turning to meet my eyes. “The thing is, the first time I read that scene, I kept wondering what it would be like. To smell a man. To feel the weight of his cock in my mouth. It was what first had me questioning everything.”
He shifted on the bed, leaning on his side with his elbow propped under him. “Tonight, when I read that scene, I had allthose same thoughts, only this time they centered around you. What wouldyousmell like? What wouldyoutaste like? What would it feel like to haveyourcock in my mouth? And suddenly I realized, I didn’t have to wonder. I could actually experience those things. And once I had that realization, I had to know.”
“And?” I reached out and pinched his chin playfully. “What did you think?”
He bent forward, and with his lips just inches away from mine said, “Better than anything I’d imagined.”
24
MATTHEW
As Louis slept peacefullyin my arms, I watched fat snowflakes swirl in the light of the streetlight outside my window. It had been snowing off and on all evening, but had really started coming down in earnest about an hour ago, piling up in the corners of the windows while wind rattled the screens.
Louis made a snuffling sound, which I thought was an indication that he was waking up, but he just wiggled against me, burrowing his head more heavily into my chest. Not for the first time, I wondered what the hell I was doing with him. Which inevitably led to the secondary question: What was I going to doabouthim?
After my mad dash upstairs, driven by the uncontrollable need to know what his cock tasted like—fucking amazing—we’d spent a quiet evening enjoying soup and watching Christmas movies. We’d started withScrooged, then moved to my apartment so I could feed Ernie. That taken care of, we’d started onDie Hard, which he’d insisted was a Christmas movie—it wasn’t—then he’d promptly fallen asleep in my arms. I hadn’t wanted to move him, so here I sat, with one arm tingling and theweight of a drooling man on my chest, trying to figure out how to keep this feeling forever.
I didn’t think it was too much to ask... to keep him. I’d lost my wife. Didn’t I deserve another companion in my life? Someone who made me feel lighter than I’d felt in years. Who tolerated my grumpiness. Who didn’t seem to mind that I was inexperienced in sex with a man, and in fact made me feel like I was good at it.
Stay.
The word floated through my mind, like a whisper on a breeze. A confession. A plea. Since I’d first had the thought this afternoon in the five-and-dime, it had taken hold, popping up again and again throughout the evening, each time more insistent and harder to ignore.
I told myself the same thing I had this afternoon. Louis wasn’t meant for small-town life. He was polished and worldly and too vibrant to be contained to a three-block main street with a grumpy man who balked at the thought of touching someone else’s asshole.
