Page 26 of Script
Unable to move for fear of scaring him, I let him guide my right hand to his cock. His big eyes were fearful, but cloudy with lust as he watched me with an intense expression.
“Please.” I wasn’t beyond begging for this beautiful man to get his hands on me. I wanted to touch him back. He trailed a path to my hip, resting there for a moment, then going that final few inches to caress my harder-than-iron cock. I shuddered, dropped another kiss, tasted him as he pressed against me and we stumbled back to the wall, the only thing holding me up. His touch grew bold, and he unbuttoned my suit pants to get at me.
“Can I touch you back?” I asked.
He nodded. “I need you to touch me,” he confessed and that, as they say, was that. I gave his dick a squeeze. He moaned low and long as his cock rocked into mine. Jolts of pure heat raced through me, settling in my balls as I kissed the ever-loving fuck out of Finn Kerrigan. He was eager for the kisses. His hands were everywhere, pulling at my tie, then shirt, before tangling into my hair. He tasted sweet, as if he’d knocked back a cocoa latte. Since chocolate was not a big part of my diet—athlete and all that—I savored the delightful mix of cocoa, coffee, and Finn.
Somehow, we got our dicks freed. With a grunt, I pushed him away a little, then, as he watched with sleepy hot eyes, I pressed my dick next to his. Pre-cum leaked out of both of us. I thumbed it over our heads, shuddering at the sensation, then began working our cocks.
“Kiss me more,” he panted.
And so, I did. With great pleasure, balanced with one hand on the wall while we both began fucking my fist. It was glorious. He wiggled a hand down between us. Two slippery hands felt twice as good. He squeezed. I squeezed. We both panted into each other’s mouths. He came first, his fingers wound in my hair, his cock kicking. I followed right behind him, adding my cum into the mix, kissing as I blew apart. He licked into my mouth like a man starved as my dick throbbed.
“So good,” he whispered between breaths, his eyes drifting closed as I nibbled at his jaw and ear, our bodies cooling as the chill of the AC seeped into the fading inferno we’d experienced.
“Beyond good,” I said hoarsely as I kissed my way back to his puffy lips. “You want to take this to the bedroom? Fool around some more?”
“I shouldn’t. I’ve already messed up everything.”
His words startled me as he began to pull away.
“Nothing is messed up.”
“Atlas will kill me.”
I stiffened. “Boyfriend?” Fuck. Had I just shared a hand job with a committed man? Wait. Wasn’t his sexuality some big secret? He wouldn’t have a boyfriend, right?
“Worse than that, he’s my agent.”
“And he doesn’t know you’re…” What? I didn’t want to assume anything.
“Gay. And he knows. It’s a big fucking secret and…” His gaze dropped, and his posture slipped.
“If you go now, we’ll have had secret hand jobs; wouldn’t you rather leave having had more than that?”
He stared up at me then, his brain working, and his eyes widened.
“Lamb and sheep,” he muttered.
“Huh?”
“If I’m going to be killed for stealing a lamb, then why not steal a sheep? Not that the media will kill me.” His eyes widened. “They might vilify me though, and then what would happen? I would have to—”
I kissed him quiet.
“Bedroom?” I asked, and that was all I was going to say as I put the ball firmly in his court.
Then, he exploded, and I went along for the ride.
Finn was a wildcat, all nails, and teeth, clawing at my clothes as we tripped and fumbled our way to the master bedroom. We fell through the door, both of us already half naked, his shirt lying outside the gym, mine hanging off the watch on my left hand, the button on the cuff snagged in the band and with a growl I freed myself from the shirt.
The bed was huge. I was a big man who liked room to move, as well as space for anyone who might join me. We fell across the California king, the navy duvet rising as our combined weights pillowed the covering.
“Nice painting,” Finn commented out of the blue as I nibbled on his jawline. I picked my head up, turned it to look at the huge oil painting of black gulls flying across a white and blue background, then glanced down at Finn. His eyes were hooded, glazed with want. “I like gulls. Will you fuck me?”
“Is that what you want, baby?”
“God, yes,” he replied as he wriggled under me, arching his body off the plush mattress to show me how much he wanted.
