Page 7 of Napkins and Other Distractions
“Can we take this off?” I pull gently at it, avoiding the stain. “Please?”
“So polite. Of course,” he says and peels it off. He stands in only his white V-neck. His stomach protrudes enough to lift the hem of the shirt, and his soft belly, covered in salt-and-pepper hair, peeks through. My erection now aches against my pants. Kent holds the wadded-up garment, glancing around to find a place for it.
“There we go.” I take the shirt and throw it into the hamper in the corner. The remote on the vanity beckons, and I reach over and click play. Simple strums fade in, Lindsey Buckingham’s tenor begins, joined by the perfectly matched harmonies of the ladies, and “Second Hand News” pours out of the ceiling-mounted speakers, filling the bathroom with music.
“Rumours,” Kent says.
“Now,” I say, rubbing my hands on his chest, sneaking up toward the exposed skin and hair, letting my clean fingers get lost in his silver forest. “May I?”
Our lips are inches apart, and his breath tickles my nose. Fresh and pristine. Fuck yes.
“Are you ready for a kiss?”
Kent answers by brushing his lips on mine. His beard is softer than I thought, and I pull him closer, wanting to feel his body. All of him. He’s bigger than me, taller. Softer. Yup, there’s a sexy dad bod underneath his T-shirt, and my cock, at full attention now, rubs against his. I hope he’s not alarmed. He wraps his arms around me, drawing us even closer.
His hands land on my waist, and there it is.
Kent’s stiffness rivals mine, and the scared, worried me seems to take a temporary vacation. He could’ve taken one look at me, my rituals and triggers, my needs and insecurities, and said “No, thank you.” But he didn’t. He’s here. Deepening the kiss and slowly grinding into me.
Kent’s tongue slowly parts my lips, but he’s tentative. His kindness might be the sexiest thing about him.
Pulling back, he pauses the kiss. “Vincent, this all working for you?”
“C’mere.”
Now I part his lips, my tongue jutting in, and he lets me enter. Soft moans escape his mouth, and kissing Kent here in my bathroom, the sensation of both our dicks pining for each other makes my head spin. His hands are above my ass, and a soft moan escapes my lips from the thrusting and friction. I’m fairly certain there’s precum in my briefs, and the seething heat takes over as my cock slides against the wetness.
“Kent?”
“Uh-huh.” He’s back at my mouth. His hands have migrated to my neck, and his fingers explore the back of my head.
“I don’t usually do this.”
“Me neither. Never, actually.”
“Okay, I just didn’t want you to think—”
“Vincent, you know what I think?” He nibbles my upper lip and runs his palm over my smooth head. When his fingers land on my ears, he rubs the lobes. “I think you’re beautiful.”
The electric guitar solo joins the song just in time to fade out, and the drum kick and synths of “Dreams” wash over us, saturating the room with musical perfection. My hands move under his shirt, and his body, velvety, but unexpectedly firm, makes my fingers tingle. Soft fur covers his entire chest and belly. Jackpot. My fingers locate his nipples and softly massage.
“Dessert,” I say.
“You’re hungry?”
“We were supposed to come back here for dessert.”
“I’m fine, I promise.” Kent dips back in for a kiss that takes my breath away. My mood. Something about Kent unglues me and right now coming untethered intoxicates me.
“Kent, may I please suck your cock?”
Apparently, my rational thinking has taken a momentary leave of absence.
“Um, what?” Kent stumbles back against the vanity. He catches himself on the edge, and with a tilted head, his eyebrows have gathered for an important meeting.
“I’m not always in the mood or ready, but right now, with you, I’m so fucking turned on,” I explain, pointing to my tented pants, “and your dick is … ” I gently cup his groin. He’s firm, thick, and rock hard. “May I suck it? Please?”
“Vincent, you don’t have to … ”
