He offered me a half-smile. “We had it all planned out except one very important detail no one could have foreseen. She died when I was fourteen. My parents discovered she’d left everything to me–the house and the money–and they weren’t happy. They fired my piano teacher, and I was only allowed to play a few times a month if they felt generous enough to allow it. I had Nana and music taken away from me in a single day.”
His words cut off and I knew he wanted to say more, but just stared at our linked hands. He traced circles on my skin with his thumb.
“Things don’t always go the way we plan, do they?” I said. “When I left home I never imagined becoming a go-go boy, but sometimes things happen because they’re supposed to. Working for the Adonis as a go-go-boy led me to where I am now. I have a one-third stake in the club, a quiet, cozy life, and a cute twink on my couch to do with what I will.”
He smiled on an exhale. “I guess you’re right. I just thought I’d be studying at Curtis now or something. But not being able to play all this time and finally being able to has made me appreciate my music all the more. Like, no matter how hard the world tries to take it away from me, it will always be there.”
“Rare and precious like snow on Christmas morning,” I said.
He crawled into my arms suddenly, straddled me, and kissed me sweetly in a closed-mouth smooch that let me know he’d been paying attention during our late-night make-out sessions.
He echoed, “Like snow on Christmas morning.”
I didn’t have a problem with him leading, and opened for his kiss, his hands everywhere. He thrust his fingers into my hair at the back of my skull and pulled. I responded in turn, cupping his denim-covered ass. Our tongues met in a gentle sweep and sent heat pounding through me. He broke away for air, his eyes unfocused, something deep and wonderful dancing there.
“See? You can’t keep your hands off me,” I teased.
“Shut up and kiss me,” he growled and took my lips again.
I obliged, pulling him close and swallowing his tongue. We wrestled for control of the kiss, whether because we were monstrously excited or the need to spar was too urgent to ignore. If we couldn’t snipe at each other with words, then battling for control of each other's mouths was the next best thing.
He got brave and sucked on my tongue. I scrambled to get him undressed while trying to stay where I was. He broke away, shrugged out of his puffer, then struggled with the buttons of his flannel. I popped them, one by one, casting him a heated glance. He was as desperate for this as I was but taking the time to actually enjoy each other was more important than rushed orgasms.
When I’d gotten the shirt off him, he wrapped his arms around me and rested his head against my shoulder. I held him tight, kissed his head and savored having him here with me on a cold winter’s day. This wasn't just about sex, but comfort.
He busied his hands at my jeans, undoing the button and pulling the zipper down. His eyes were dark, unfocused, his longsooty lashes hooded as he looked at me with all the heat of an inferno.
“Be more comfortable in bed?” I rasped. I was stone hard, my cock pushing against my jeans.
He got up and pulled me to my feet then into his kiss. I swooned, sure I’d face-plant it. Of all the sex I’d had, I’d never felt like I was going to pass out from the sheer need. Everything about Matteo was a magnet, from his sultry lips and beguiling eyes to his elegant fingers and sarcastic words. I learned so much about him and what was important to him today, now I was desperate to know his body.
We stumbled into my bedroom, his hands playing at my jeans. He laughed against my lips when we crashed into the door jamb. We eventually made it to the bed, and he pushed me onto the mattress.
Climbing on top of me, he returned to my lips and if all I got to do was kiss him for the rest of my life, I’d be happy. He sat back against my hips and slid his t-shirt off his head. He had a great body, slim with a flat belly and dark discs for nipples. I slid my hand up his stomach, past his rib cage and into the light dusting of dark hair between his pecs. My shirt was next and he didn’t waste a minute, his hands all over me, touching, caressing, groping.
“You’re so soft,” he murmured, skimming his fingers across my peck. When he hit my nipple, I couldn’t stop the gasp that escaped my lips. “Do you like to be touched here?”
“Yeah,” I croaked, my voice cracking. It was at this moment that I accepted I was in trouble because this wasn’t just sex. Not for me, anyhow and I didn’t have the courage to ask if it was more for him too. If I were smart, I’d stop this train right now.
He sucked his bottom lips between his teeth, his eyes on my body. “Can I…kiss you here?”
I couldn’t respond, his sweet words sinking into my system and stroking me in all the right ways. He leaned in anyway, kissed my nipple gently, sending a shiver through me. He did the same to the other.
I rasped, “Take my cock out, I’m dying here. Too tight.”
His eyes flared and he sat back. He reached into my pants and freed me, the expression of sheer amazement on his face. I was standing straight up in the air, the rod throbbing with every beat of my heart.
“See?” he whispered. “You’re crazy for me.”
“Shut up, brat and get over here.” I didn’t give him an opportunity to respond.
I flipped him over, cut off his words with a claiming kiss, and pushed my cock against the rough denim of his thigh. He moaned into my mouth, his hands all over my back, clawing and grabbing.
Clothes were discarded off to the side, a sock hanging off my lamp. The sounds of our smacking lips and his breathy little moans made for our own kind of music. He pushed his leg between my thighs, and I hooked my knee around his hip to keep him from getting away. We couldn’t get close enough. We were desperate to crawl into each other's skin and never leave.
I positioned our cocks against each other and nipped at his throat. We grinded against each other, our breaths joining, our skin slick with sweat.
He threw his head back. “Fuck…”
