Page 54 of John Wilder Gets Schooled
“Sure,” I said easily. “Giving or receiving?”
He looked up and caught my gaze, and his blush darkened. “Um, both? But maybe receiving first?”
It was so freaking endearing how tongue-tied and shy he got around asking to try new things. But at the same time, it made my chest ache as I tried and failed to imagine what Wilder’s upbringing must have been like for him to instinctively approach talking about sex—wantingit—like a landmine that might blow up in his face at any minute.
I never wanted him to feel like that with me, ever. I reached out and pushed his hair back behind his ear, letting my fingertips graze the side of his neck, and he shivered. “I would love that,” I said softly.
The apprehension melted from his face, and he took a drink from his beer before putting the can down on the coaster and leaning in for a kiss. Usually I was the one who took the lead, and to see him doing it was both sexy and reassuring. As always, Wilder melted into the kisses, the tension leaving his frame as we made out. There wasn’t any urgency tonight, maybe because we both knew he didn’t have anywhere else to be after this, but kissing Wilder was still incredibly hot, and my cock stirred in my sweats.
He pulled back, lips red and swollen and eyes dark, but that crease between his brows was back. “So, um,” he said and stopped, like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to say what he wanted to say.
“Just ask me, Johnny.” Was it cheating to call him that, knowing it made him go all soft and gooey? Probably, but how was I meant to give Wilder what he wanted if he wouldn’t ask?
He cleared his throat. “I was wondering… could we maybe watch a movie or something? Something for over-fives? I know this is meant to be a hookup, and I still wanna do that, but…”
“You need some downtime from being a parent first,” I finished for him.
He nodded. “I love Gracie to the moon and back, but being adad is a lot. Sometimes I feel like just hanging out and not thinking, you know?”
I leaned in and kissed his cheek, then handed him the remote. “I get it. Find something to watch and I’ll get us some snacks.”
“And it’s okay if we suck dick later?” he asked, biting at his bottom lip.
I grinned. “Oh, I’m gonna suck your dick so hard you’ll see stars.”
He grinned back. “Gold stars, right?”
“Is there any other kind?”
Wilder laughed, his relief clear, and I went and got some chips from the pantry and a couple more beers.
Is it a problem that you’re looking forward to this almost as much as the blow job you’re giving him later?a quiet voice whispered.
I wasn’t going to dignify that with a reply.
We settled in on the couch and found an action movie that was definitely rated for over-fives, and as we drank our beers and snacked and laughed at the over-the-top explosions and cheesy dialogue, Wilder’s head somehow settled on my shoulder.
I lifted my arm and said, “Hey. Lie down.” He glanced up at me, heavy-lidded, and grinned and shuffled along the length of the couch while I guided him downward until he was lying with his head in my lap. I gave in to the temptation to run my fingers through his hair, teasing out a few stray tangles, and he gave a satisfied hum.
Warmth settled in my chest as I kept stroking his hair, his head a solid, comfortable weight against my thighs. I was only half watching the movie now, too busy glancing down at Wilder. I could tell the exact moment he fell asleep. His eyes slipped closed and his whole body sagged against mine.
I turned the volume on the TV down to a whisper, and I let him sleep.
We stayed like that for maybe half an hour, with the TV silently flickering in the background as I stroked his hair and lost myself in watching him. Cradling his face in my lap, I drank inthe way the soft light of the lamp lit up the golden strands of his hair and highlighted the dark shadow where stubble decorated his jawline. The earlier tension had left his face, and I caught a glimpse of how he might look if he didn’t have the weight of the world on his shoulders.
It was somehow more intimate than sex, and I was almost sorry when Wilder let out a low, grumbling noise and blinked awake. He levered himself up into a sitting position and his voice was rough when he said, “Shit. I must have been more tired than I thought.” He ran a hand through his hair, then stretched his arms over his head, making his shirt ride up. “How long was I out?”
“Not long,” I said absently, my gaze caught by that strip of bare skin. I reached out and ran a fingertip down his side, and he shuddered as his mouth curled up in a slow, lazy smile.
“So I guess you’re still up for fooling around?”
I straddled his lap, looped my arms behind his head, and kissed him hard, and he got with the program immediately, kissing me back with a passion that surprised me. Wilder tasted of beer and potato chips, and the scent of his cedar bodywash filled my nostrils, making me moan. I pulled back but only so I could cup his dick and ask, “You still want me to blow you?”
Wilder let out a breathy, “Yeah,” his eyes wide.
I shimmied off his lap and knelt in front of him, unbuttoning his jeans and sliding the zipper down. I ran a hand over the length of his dick where it was straining against his underwear and tapped his thigh. “Up.”
Wilder raised his hips obediently, and I tugged his jeans and underwear down his thighs. His dick sprang free, already damp at the tip, and I leaned in and ran my tongue over the head. Wilder jerked like he’d been shot, then let out a shocked, breathless laugh.
