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“So good.” Eyes shutting, he tipped his head back. His hands kept drifting to my shoulder and the back of my head. But every time he flexed his fingers, he quickly drew his hands away.
“You can touch.” Releasing his cock for a moment, I grabbed his hands, put them on my head. “I’m not going to break, and it turns out I like you driving. Show me what I do to you.”
“Yes.” Gideon’s voice was a mix of enthusiasm and need, and this time when I went back to sucking, his hands stayed put. It only took a few long, slow strokes of my tongue before he started pushing up to meet my mouth. I moaned around his cock, encouraging him. He tightened his grip, not painful, but enough that he could direct my rhythm and push me to where he wanted.
Fuck. Now I was the one who needed something to count. I held on to his thighs to avoid the temptation to jack off against his couch. I was close to the edge simply from his taste and smell, and the pressure of his demanding hands added to that. Not having to guess what he might like was fucking incredible, letting go and letting him use my mouth however he wanted. Each time I took him so deep that my lips brushed the fabric of his pants, my cock pulsed as we both moaned.
“Paul.” The desperate edge to his voice was one more thing pushing me closer. His cock grew stiffer in my mouth, thrusts more purposeful. “Paul.”
Him chanting my name was the sexiest fucking thing ever. I retreated enough to suck in a breath. “That’s it. Take my mouth, baby.”
Seemed like he’d been waiting for that final bit of permission, despite me allowing him to set the pace, because his moans came faster now. His whole body vibrated under my hands as I took him as deep as I could, let him go as fast as he wanted.
“Now. Oh. Now. Coming.” He held me fast as he came, filling my mouth. My own cock had never been harder, and I trembled. Swallowing, I milked him with my tongue until he finally released me and pushed at my shoulder. “Wow.”
“Wow is right.” My voice was rough. Dazed. I legit had to check in with my body, verify I hadn’t come because it had been that near a thing.
“Get up here.” Gideon grabbed my arm and hauled me up next to him. I wound up half-sprawled, one leg up, one leg down, shoulders against his chest.
“Yes, Bossy.” I slumped against him almost-but-not-quite spent, but he was busy kissing my temple and undoing my fly. Just the brush of his fingers had me groaning. “Fuck. Your hand feels good.”
“Yeah? Did sucking me get you close?” Gideon’s tone was as demanding as his grip. With his free hand, he held me tightly, palm spread wide on my chest, right over my heart.
“Always.” I wasn’t ever going to get tired of blowing him, couldn’t imagine a time when I didn’t crave his taste.
He inhaled sharply as if he was the one about to shoot. “I like that.”
I liked Gideon. More than liked. And I needed to tell him that, but then he sped up his hand, thumb sweeping across my cockhead, and every word I knew fled, replaced by a low shout as I came, hard enough the first spurt hit my beard and some likely got him too.
“Fuck.” I didn’t understand how pleasure could be so much more intense with him, like he found an extra gear on my internal transmission, some sort of overdrive button that belonged to him and him alone. “Jesus.”
“Oh, you were worked up, weren’t you?” He sounded very pleased with himself indeed, and I had to laugh even if it came out more like a squawk. Chuckling along with me, he stroked my chest. “More wow?”
“All the wow.” Sighing happily, I adjusted my position so my head was more comfortably against his chest, both legs outstretched. My nice shirt was a wreck, but I was in no hurry to clean up. “Don’t boot me out too fast. Not sure I can walk after that.”
“Nah.” He kissed the top of my head. “Stay cozy for a bit. Enjoy the lights.”
“I am.” I gazed up at him, admiring the way his cheeks were still pink and flushed, hair a little sweaty, eyes glassy. I couldn’t get enough of how he looked at me either, the tenderness and wonder there. Like he couldn’t quite believe I was here, which was funny because I wasn’t sure I was ever leaving.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Reminder! Car traffic to see the lights will likely be dense tonight! Make sure any Christmas Eve guests are aware and give yourself extra time if you’re heading out to services. ~Cheryl Bridges posted to the What’s Up Neighbor app
Gideon
Paul’s kitchen smelled like Christmas—sugar, butter, and flour combining for that magical scent that no candle or room spray company could ever hope to duplicate.
“This time they’ll work,” I assured him as he slid a tray into the preheated oven.
“Only for you would I get up early for baking cookies.” He laughed like he hadn’t been the one texting me after his walk with Jim, wanting to know what time I was coming over and if he should make extra coffee. I’d been there, French press and cookie-cutter collection in hand, five minutes later.
“Hey, this way you can have one for second breakfast.” I finished rolling another round of dough and moved so he could help place the cutters.
“Is that a thing?” Paul frowned, and I laughed because I’d forgotten that not everyone had spent two decades running with a decidedly nerdy crowd.
“Well, it is for hobbits. Clearly, your pop culture education is lacking.”
“You’ll have to fix that,” Paul said, almost absently like, of course, we would have time to watch a famously long trilogy. But he hadn’t said anything concrete about a future beyond Christmas. Neither had I. This was too good to jinx. But it had certainly felt like a date last night. And he’d seemed genuinely disappointed I hadn’t slept over. Not to mention how he’d steamed up my living room with that epic blowjob.
