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He buries his face in my stomach again, leaving me speechless. Instinct tells me to object, but those instincts are from a lifetime of never being complimented. Maybe it’s okay to have one person in your life who gives you a big head.
His hands roam slowly down my thighs, kneading the muscles as though I’m the one who did the lion’s work today and need pampering. What makes a person’s heart affix its focus to someone in particular, I may never understand, but I’m grateful Pete’s seems to be zoned in on me. Carding my fingers through his hair, I realize all my apprehension about touching him is gone. It's instinct now, a need that I no longer have to worry about being welcomed or not. I can’t get over the way he makes me feel.
Damp warmth permeates around the fabric of my pants over my cock. Hello! I still can’t get over the way he makes me feel physically, either.
He continues a torrent of slow, open-mouthed kisses over my growing outline until I can’t hold back my groans. I still remember that lick he gave me in the broom closet. I can’t imagine this can be more than a tease either, given where we are, but I’m happy to discover he’s up for oral.
“Can I?” he whispers, looking up at me with lust hazing his glossy eyes.
“Um, is that a trick question?”
His fingers hook under the elastic of both my pants and boxer briefs, tugging them down. I thought maybe he was asking hypothetically. A nervous laugh bubbles out of my throat as I clamp my hands over his.
“Pete, your family’s downstairs.”
He frowns at me like I’m not making sense and shakes his head. “They guessed.”
“Guessed what?”
“About us.” His calm reply is accented with a kiss on my wrist. “I heard them talking when I came inside.”
“Really? H-how?” This is important, but he seems more concerned about my body, pressing a kiss to the V of my groin.
“Apparently, I look at you the way you look at me.”
I knew I didn’t imagine the longing in his glances today. I will certainly never regret them, but what does this mean for him and his family?
“I don’t mind,” I whisper as he presses another soft kiss dangerously close to my balls. “But were they okay with it?”
“Yeah. I think so,” he murmurs, hovering over my drawn-up flesh. “I got a nod from my dad.”
“A nod? What kind of nod?”
“He only has one kind. He doesn’t give out nods lightly.” Pressing his mouth to the skin on my inner thigh, he holds it there, reverently. “Mom wants you to come back next weekend to bake pies.”
My heart bursts and overflows. I basically insinuated myself into his life, giving him this dilemma he might otherwise never have had to navigate. I’m overjoyed it happened so quickly and smoothly for him. We shared pretty words yesterday, but I didn’t imagine just how committed he would be to this—to us. I really do have a boyfriend.
That leaves me to tell my family. I’m nowhere near as hopeful about the prospect. Nothing I’ve ever done is right by their skewed standards.
When Pete’s mouth envelops the head of my cock, however, it silences my worries, shoving them into a compartment to deal with another day. Focusing on the present is much more appealing. No amount of anxiety is going to make me miss the full experience of my first blow job.
He pulls off, panting, just staring at my cock in fascination. Glancing up at me, the raw hunger in his eyes is shared with a hint of insecurity.
“You’ve never?” I ask, even though I’m fairly certain of the answer.
He shakes his head, but wraps his hand around me. Studying my erection, he strokes it, rubbing his thumb over my glans.
“You don’t have to,” I grit, trying not to sound desperate for him to continue.
“No, I do,” he rasps to my cock, looking determined. “I have to have you.”
With that, he takes me in, encompassing me in his heat. I melt into the mattress as his lips hug and glide down my length. When his tongue swirls around my shaft, he lets out a filthy groan like he’s dying.
Fuck. It’s exactly how I feel. My balls are so hard they feel like they’re going to explode.
Now, he’s raking his hands up and down my legs like he can’t touch me enough. I’m probably knotting up his hair, but I need an outlet, or his family is going to hear more than they bargained for. A whimper bursts past my lips, but he doesn’t seem concerned by our volume, drawing one of my legs over his shoulder possessively. Whatever he drank, we’re taking a case back to Bellevue with us.
Biting my forearm, I silence my noises as the pressure builds. My legs are on fire—that telling blanket of heat is slowly rising up them to my groin as his sloppy sounds fill the room.
