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I closed my eyes, but Simon clucked his tongue. “Uh, Becks. Look at me.” His voice was low, a growled command that I couldn’t help but obey.
With his gaze locked on mine, Simon leaned forward. He traced his way down my chest, circled each nipple with his thumb, and studied my response. I’d never been particularly sensitive there, but his caress was a revelation as so much of this evening had been. The light touch had me pushing forward, wanting more contact as the nerves in my skin ran straight to my cock. I ached all the way to my toes, my body one continuous pulse of need.
“Undo my belt,” I whispered. “Please. I need you to touch me.”
Simon shook his head as he took my nipple in his mouth. If I had thought the touch of his hands was magic, it was nothing compared to his mouth, to the way his tongue teased and circled, enticed and soothed. He suckled me until the skin on my chest rose to a hard peak, then he bit down and pulled gently. A jolt of electricity sliced through me like lightning, and it was my turn to cry out for him.
“Oh, God, Simon,” I moaned. “Please.”
I’d never begged before in my life, never wanted so desperately to be lying next to someone. My legs trembled, and I wondered if I would be able to remain upright as Simon switched to my other side and repeated his tease. The tip of his tongue twisted around that tiny bud, awoke nerves I had not known existed nor been aware of their connection to every other part of my body.
His hands teased up my back again, and I was so turned on that every place he touched sent waves of pleasure through me. Something was growing deep in my core, a well of desire that felt limitless, so deep, so essential that I worried it would consume me when it peaked.
I feared I would not withstand the tidal wave of pleasure that was brewing in my body, and moved to slow us down, but Simon was having none of it. He gripped my ass, his strong hands holding me in place so I couldn’t squirm away, so I had to ride out the decadent sensations that were coursing through me.
When Simon’s hands moved to my belt, it startled me. So enthralled with the way my body felt and the sight of Simon touching me, I’d forgotten we were both still partially dressed.
“Is this okay, Becks?” he asked, those dark eyes turned up to me, his chin raised, and those plush lips I hadn’t kissed in too long slightly parted.
I wove my hands into the long strands of his hair and tipped his head back, so I could kiss him. A quick kiss, the merest brush of lips, a flick of his tongue against mine before I nodded.
“Please.”
Making short work of my belt, Simon had my pants undone and pooled at my ankles before I could take a breath. He mouthed my cock through my briefs, his hot breath causing precum to leak through the fabric, and his hands rose to cup my balls. Moving from my cock to my balls, Simon paused to inhale deeply, and I felt my cock jump. It bumped against the side of his face, the fabric catching slightly on Simon’s stubbled jaw, and he laughed.
“Someone’s eager.”
I nodded, mute, incapable of words as he gazed up at me once again.
“Do you want my mouth on you?”
With a wordless cry, I took hold of his hair once more and gripped it tightly, thrust my hips forward so my shrouded cock nudged against his lips.
“It’s my pleasure,” Simon said. “I can’t wait to taste you.”
Without saying anything more, Simon hooked his fingers into the waistband of my briefs and drew them down my legs. I expected them to follow my pants and land on the floor, but Simon let them go as soon as my cock was exposed. It left me with my feet still tangled in my trousers and my briefs held by their elastic on my thighs. I would have felt ridiculous and disconcerted if Simon hadn’t immediately swallowed my length.
I garbled. There was no other word for the incomprehensible sounds that came from my mouth in choked expulsions as he drew off my cock then swallowed me down once again and then again. One of his hands cupped my balls, drew them out of hiding in the soft fabric of my briefs, and rolled them as he worked my cock with his tongue and lips and throat.
The slight humiliation of being restricted by my clothing, of the large, damp spot that pressed against the skin of my inner thigh combined with the heady rhythm of Simon’s mouth and hands was too much. My legs trembled as I fought the rising tide of my orgasm. It was too much, and too soon.
With a cry of frustration and distress, I pulled myself back from his grip, panting hard. My hands were still tangled in Simon’s hair, so I ended up pulling him against me, the rough scrape of his stubble abrading the skin just above my cock.
“Fuck,” I said as I pulled back again and grabbed myself to stave off the orgasm that was too close.
Once I had myself under control again, I eyed Simon. His face was still pressed against my lower abdomen, and his eyes were closed as he breathed in my scent.
“You like the way I smell?” I asked.
“Love it,” he said. “You’re smokey and warm, like crème brûlée with the lightest dusting of smoked salt, and a hint of citrus and…” He inhaled again, exhaled. “…cloves. The best dessert I’ve ever had.”
It was my turn to laugh. I relaxed my grip on his hair and ran my fingers through it, letting the strands flow over my skin as I brushed it back from his face. “Let’s get you naked, and lie down,” I said.
Simon moved so fast he was practically a blur, rolling to the other side of the bed so he could stand, then wasting no time in undoing the draw string at his waist and letting his chef’s pants fall to the floor. He kicked them to the side as I freed myself of my own clothes, but I stopped him as he hooked a finger in the waistband of his boxer briefs.
Without a word, I climbed on the bed and lay down. “Straddle me,” I said, and Simon moved quickly to comply. When his strong thighs gripped me, and his weight rested on my belly, I pulled him forward. “I want you to fuck my face,” I said. The words brought heat to my cheeks. I had no idea where this boldness was coming from, but I knew it was something I wanted from him. As strange as it seemed since we’d only known each other for a handful of hours, I trusted him. I knew he would take care of me, would value the pleasure I had in this act as much as his own, and not ram himself down my throat unless I begged him to. The way I was feeling tonight, I just might do that, which was a heady enough thought to make me buck my hips with impatience.
Simon leaned down and kissed me, claiming my mouth and fucking his tongue between my lips — an amuse bouche to whet my appetite for what was to come. I could taste myself on him, a faint hint of my precum lingering in his mouth, but more than that, I could smell myself, or what I assumed was myself from the scents he had remarked on: the cloves, the musk, vanilla, and citrus. It mixed with his own earthiness, a touch of leather or tobacco, and something baser that was like a gut punch to my cock, causing it to leak a hot stream of precum down the side.
