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“You’re right.” He traced Emilio’s dark eyebrow with one finger. “I like the way you approach things, Emilio.” He moved his finger around Emilio’s full lips. “You have an amazing ability to ignore the noise and hone in on the crux of an issue.”
With a smile and a wink, Emilio said, “I have no clue what you just said, but thank you.” Then he grasped Spencer’s hand and held it in place as he licked and sucked on his finger.
“Ungh,” Spencer moaned, pleasure hitting him fast, need coming right after. He thrust his hips forward and Emilio reacted immediately, shoving his thickly muscled thigh between Spencer’s legs and giving his rapidly filling dick something to rub against. Emilio’s gaze burned as he fellated Spencer’s finger, not stopping until Spencer was grinding hard and groaning loudly.
“You are so hot,” Emilio whispered huskily when he finally popped his mouth off Spencer’s finger. “I love how you react, love how real you are all the time.” He slammed his lips against Spencer’s and ate his way inside, thrusting his tongue in and out over and over again while he squeezed Spencer’s ass. “Damn!” Emilio said as they broke for air. He held Spencer close and dropped his forehead onto Spencer’s head. “I have no fuckin’ control where you’re concerned.”
“That’s not true,” Spencer said hastily. “You were really controlled before when we were… you were great.”
“Oh, cariño.” Emilio cupped his cheeks and tilted his head back. His expression had changed and he suddenly looked sad. “I didn’t mean it like that. I won’t ever hurt you. I just meant that I want you so much all I can think about is getting you naked and going back to bed.”
“Okay,” Spencer responded breathlessly. “Let’s do that. Is now okay?”
Emilio laughed. “See that? Cute as hell. How am I supposed to resist you?” He gave Spencer one last peck and then pulled away. “I gotta finish cleaning up. You better go, because if you stay in here, I won’t be able to stop touching you and then I’ll never finish these dishes.”
“I’ll wash them later.” Spencer wrapped his hand around Emilio’s and tried to tug him toward the doorway.
“No.” Emilio didn’t budge, and Spencer got a firsthand example of just how strong the man was. A shudder of arousal ran through his body. “You cooked, so I gotta clean up.”
Something in Emilio’s tone and the stubborn set of his shoulders told Spencer this was important. “Okay, but I want to help—that way it’ll go faster. How about you wash and I’ll dry?”
After a few seconds mulling it over, Emilio nodded and said, “That works.”
“Great.” Spencer beamed. “And we need to make sure a dishwasher is on the list for the kitchen remodel.”
“No problem,” Emilio said. “We have room right here.” He tilted his chin toward a cabinet to his right. “We’ll run the plumbing through the back and share a drain with the sink.” He scrubbed plates and forks, put them in a soapy pile on one side of the wide sink, and then reached for more dishes as he said, “So tell me about your family.”
“Oh, um, okay.” Spencer wandered around the kitchen, putting away the few things he had left out when making dinner and wiping at invisible smudges on the countertop, anything to keep himself busy. “Let’s see. My parents live in Orlando, which is where I grew up. My father is an engineer. My mother is a teacher. I have one brother. Steven. He’s a banker, three years younger than me, also lives in Orlando. Divorced, two kids.” He tried to think of what else he could say and realized he was all out of information about his family. Huh.
“Orlando is far,” Emilio said.
“Yes,” Spencer agreed. The answer was simple, the meaning behind it complicated. “But Vegas is a lot like Orlando, except with less humidity, and it’s a little farther from the ocean. But I’ve never really been a beach guy, anyway, and California is close enough that I can drive there if the urge strikes.”
“Yup,” Emilio said with a chuckle. “It’s a dry one ten. So we’re burned to a crisp, but, hey, at least we’re not being steamed.”
They were talking about the weather. That wasn’t usually considered an indication of a successful conversation. Even he knew that, and he was no expert at conversational skills.
“Spencer?” Emilio said after a too-long interlude of silence.
“Yes?”
“Is it hard being so far away from them or are you guys not close?”
Though Emilio was still facing the sink, his movements had slowed and his head was tilted a smidge to the side, so Spencer knew he was interested in the answer. It was actually easier to talk without being watched, something Emilio probably realized. In the short time he’d known the man, Spencer had already noticed how sensitive he was, how easily Emilio seemed to read him.
