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Jerking at his scalp, I try to warn him, “Pete.”
He draws off, and I’m about to take hold of myself to finish the job, but he inserts his index finger in his mouth. Releasing it with a slurp, he directs the wet digit to the underside of my ass and takes me in again. A second later, I feel that damp finger rubbing against my pucker, nearly making my eyes cross. The man is going to kill me.
My hole responds with eager obedience when he presses against it, letting him in. For a beginner, he’s deftly accurate at locating my prostate, grazing the pad of his finger over it. It’s a magic button, making me lose any control I had left.
I shudder violently, gripping his hair in my fist. A firestorm courses through me, pouring into his mouth.
“Pete! Uhn!”
It’s too little of a warning, and too late, but he doesn’t seem to care. His mouth contracts around me, hugging my cock. It’s the most bizarre and yet wonderful sensation. And then it’s gone.
He pops off, lips clenched tight, confusion on his face. Eyes darting around, he seems to be looking for something like he’s holding his breath.
Oh, my word. He’s got a mouthful of… me. Before I can search for something to help him out, he releases it into his palm.
Panting, he rises on his knees, looking conflicted. His gaze alternates from me to his handful. I can see an impressive bulge fighting against the fly of his jeans. I’m not about to let his dislike of fluids ruin this for him. It’s impressive he even went this far.
Sitting up, I wrench my t-shirt over my head and swipe his hand clean. He looks like he might have opinions about me sacrificing my t-shirt, but I reach for the button of his jeans as I toss the shirt aside. The time I take to get his fly unzipped and his cock pulled out is probably a new record.
He lets out a choking sound of disbelief as my mouth takes him in, but then he sighs. Every sexy little grunt he makes spurns me on with more fervor. He smells like the earth and apple tarts, ruining any chance of me thinking wholesome thoughts about those scents ever again.
I can’t believe I ever felt insecure about intimacy as I watch the base of his shaft appear and reappear in quick succession with each bob of my head. It doesn’t feel like we’re beginners, but rather, two seasoned lovers who know what the other needs. He’s moving his hips in little jerks, both eager for and respectful of my mouth. The way he’s cupping his palm gently to my cheek is a silent thank you I don’t need.
A long, drawn-out groan startles me but ends on my name. “Cam.”
His hand clenches down on my shoulder. His belly bumps into my forehead as he leans forward like he’s in pain. The warmth of his release hits my tongue. Maybe it only weirds him out if he’s on the receiving end. He never complained the last time, so I don’t balk, and swallow him down.
Sitting back, my ass cheeks brush against my heels. My pants are still down. I don’t even think the door is locked. Glancing over to see if he’ll share my humor about our carelessness, the smile falls off my face. Pete drops to the mattress like a felled tree, letting out a satisfied sigh.
Bending down on my elbow, I brush a lock of hair off his forehead. He looks like he’s down for the count. Chuckling, I whisper, “Did I kill you?”
His eyes crack open. Spiderwebs of red lines speckle the whites as he focuses on me. His sexy lips are puffy, and I’m afraid to tell him there’s slobber on his chin. I wish I could take a picture of the sleepy look he’s giving me. Reaching up, his hand grips the back of my neck and tugs me forward.
I don’t know if he forgot about the fluids I just hosted in my mouth, but he kisses me deeply, passionately. I’m breathless and ready to melt into him by the time he lets go. His hand falls. He closes his eyes and sighs like everything is right in the world. I know it’s not, but with him, it’s sure easy to imagine.
Putting myself away, I scurry to the bathroom and clean up. If we’ve got approval to bunk together under Frank and Lorraine’s roof, the least I can do is damage control for our moment of weakness.
Walking out of the bath with a damp cloth for Pete, I stop in my tracks. He’s on his side, snoring. I can see his palm still glistening with remnants of my release. And… his cock is out, drooping toward the mattress, looking as exhausted as him.
“That’s a lot of damage control.”
I get to work, wiping his face and then his hand. He lets out a moan when I carefully tuck him away. The domestic vibe of taking care of him becomes a moment rather than a necessity. I think I enjoy taking care of my man. I don’t think I’d ever mind it at all.
When I get his boots and socks off, I contemplate his jeans. While I’m sure getting him out of them would be an experience, he’ll survive as is. Now, I can say I slept next to a lumberjack, at least. Grabbing an extra blanket from the closet, I tuck him in and slide under the covers. Pete, in bed with me, two nights in a row. Will the wow factor ever wear off?
I’m excited that it looks like I’ll be able to get used to the arrangement. My mother is the only one who ever drops by my place. Hopefully, Pete doesn’t mind hosting most of our future sleepovers, though.
A silent laugh tickles my lungs, thinking of what a mess our beginning was. If I hadn’t made a mistake about him, none of this ever would have happened.
Sliding my hand up the mattress, I aim to tuck it under my pillow. I want to stay on my side so I can watch his handsome face just a little longer. When my fingers graze his, he grunts and tangles them into his. Dragging our joined hands to his chest like a possessive caveman with a bone, he lets out a contented sigh as though my presence is comforting even in sleep. It’s a little thing, but I’ve never felt more important.
Leaning closer, I let my lips dust the worry line on his brow. “I’m going to keep you forever, Pete Carver.”
CHAPTER 24
Pete
Tuesday—that’s only four days since the last time I was inside of Cam. I swore to myself I was going to keep my dick in check when we got home Sunday night and give him ample time to recover from his ‘prom’.
