Jesus Christ. I sound unhinged even in my thoughts.
“Are you asleep?” Johnson chuckles beneath me.
I press my forehead to his shoulder, breathing him in. “I’m in heaven,” I mutter, “and I don’t want to leave.”
“I don’t want you to leave either, but we need sustenance.” He lifts his head to look at me properly. “And I want to suck your dick.”
He’s trying to kill me, I swear to God.
“You should have led with that,” I say immediately, because honestly, priorities.
We both groan when I pull out, and my body already misses the way he was clenched around me. I’m already looking forward to being inside him again. But for now, the promise of his posh mouth around my cock is enough to tide me over.
We make our way to the bathroom, bare feet against the cool floor. He splashes water on his face, drops of it clinging to his lashes. I deal with the condom, glance at myself in the mirror, and nearly laugh at how wild my hair looks. I run a comb through it. We dress without talking much, but the silence isn’t awkward. By the time we step out and head towards the restaurant, my brain is fully back online, which means my stomach has also decided to let me know how many calories I burned.
As we walk down the corridor, I feel tempted to grab his hand and lay a claim on him out in the open, which is an insane thing to want.
I’ve always been content with one-night stands and sex without strings. But now . . . ugh.
I settle for moving closer to him, letting my knuckles brush against his. He looks over at me and gives me a shy smile. His cheeks lift, eyes bright, like he’s trying to pretend he isn’tabsurdly pleased by something as small as our hands touching. I’ve never seen him this bashful before; his soft, unguarded expression has me wishing I could spend the rest of my life protecting that smile, that I could be the reason it keeps showing up.
In the hotel restaurant, we find only Akintola and Bayero sitting at a table in front of the window. I consider grabbing my food and dragging Johnson back upstairs so we can pick up right where we left off. But we decide, after sharing one silent look with each other, to join the guys. I load my plate with enough pasta to feed a small village. What can I say? Fucking Johnson took all my energy. My legs feeling springy and weak at the same time.
“Do you know if the others have eaten?” Johnson asks as we sit.
“Nah,” Bayero shrugs. “We didn’t see anybody when we came in.”
We fall into an easy conversation about the quarter-finals, and how tough we anticipate our match against Croatia might be. I nod at the right moments and contribute where necessary, pretending I’m not hyperaware of the man sitting next to me. Every time our knees brush under the table, it’s like there’s a private spark between us; when he leans closer to say something only I can hear, I forget whether I’m a footballer or hockey player.
The guys finish their meal first and announce they’re heading out for a walk. We finish our meal quickly, and as we’re going back upstairs, I feel an actual bounce in my step. By the time we step out of the elevator, Johnson suddenly, but lightly, shoves me behind him and bolts down the hallway, cackling without a single care who hears or sees him.
“What are you—” I start, but I’m already jogging after him, laughing because I can’t help it. He looks happy and free.
He gets to the door first, fumbles for the keycard and throws it open just as I catch up. The second the door shuts behind us, he turns, grabs my shirt, shoves me back against it, and fuses our mouth together.
The kiss is messy, our hands reaching for each other, bodies pressing close. My legs turn to jelly as he ravages my mouth. Fucking him must have loosened something in him because this isn’t the man I entered this room with earlier today.
“Do you remember when I had you pinned to the door in Abuja?” he whispers against my lips, not even giving me time to respond. “After you left, I jerked off so hard,” he confesses, his teeth grazing my lower lip. “I’ve been thinking of your cock in my mouth ever since.”
Whoa! That’s some new information right there. I tuck it somewhere to be brought up later. His hand slides beneath my shorts, wrapping around my semi and stroking my cock until I’m fully hard. I suck in a breath as he fondles the tip roughly, knowing exactly how I like it. His hand works my shaft faster, up and down in rapid succession.
“Your mouth,” I manage, my voice rougher than I expected it be. “Now.”
He pauses, eyes lifting to mine, something akin to amusement is glittering there. As much as I enjoy ordering him around, I have a feeling he likes following them just as much, regardless that he’s ten years older than me. Without breaking eye contact, he sinks to his knees in front of me, tugging down my shorts as he goes; it’s easy work since I am going commando.
He exhales audibly when my cock springs free and almost pokes his eyes. His lips part before he lets out a disbelieving laugh. “Damn!” he mutters, wrapping one hand around my length and giving it a slow, testing stroke. “How is your dick this big?”
He adds his second hand and starts moving them together in an easy tempo that has me bracing one palm against the door. Fuck! It feels so good.
“And you want me to be humble?” I try to tease before it dissolves into a moan.
He rolls his eyes faintly, but I see curiosity there. He swipes his tongue on the precum at my slit, his eyes hooded as he looks up at me. “Erm,” he says, and he sounds unsure. “I might not be as good as you.”
The vulnerability in his voice softens and wrecks me at the same time. “I know it’s your first time, big guy,” I tell him, threading my fingers into his short hair even though I can’t quite hold on to it. “You’re already off to a good start.”
That earns me a bright, open, and heart-stopping smile. “So,” he says, squeezing my cock slightly. “You’ll tell me what to do?”
“You want me to teach you how to suck a cock?”
