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I downed my drink and set the glass aside.
“I think it’s time to redeem yourself.”
“I’m not kissing you, man.”
“Why?”
“Because.” Adrián knocked back his drink. “I don’t want to. That’s pretty much it. I barely even kiss girls I pick up at the club. It makes me uncomfortable, okay?”
I vaguely remembered Marcus Hendricks talking about kissing as the ultimate form of romance and quoting a Meg Ryan movie in the process. Apparently, this fool was on that same line of reasoning. It was sort of true. There was nothing more intimate than touching another person’s face and sharing their breath while you explored the inside of their mouth. Unless that person was just kissing you to distract from the amateur porn flick they were secretly filming so they could humiliate you.
Bitterness surged up from my gut with enough force to choke me. I didn’t let it. Instead, I smiled and focused every ounce of my queer resentment on Adrián fucking Bravo.
“What else makes you uncomfortable?”
Adrián shrugged, still holding the empty glass.
“We should probably figure it out if we’re gonna keep the competition going, no?”
His throat bobbed with a heavy swallow. “Should we keep it going?”
“I dunno.” I sat up on the couch but kept my hands braced against the cushion and my face angled up to him. He liked me in this position. Reminded him a lot of that blowjob. How good it’d been and how much I’d taken with zero complaint. “Do you still wanna show me up?”
“I’ll always want to show you up, Boudreaux.”
“All right then, let’s see what makes you jumpy.”
I started to shift myself upward, but he put a palm against my chest and held me back.
“What happens when you lose?”
“You can have fun figuring that one out. I’m gonna leave it up to you.”
Adrián’s fingers pressed harder against my chest before falling away. There was a hint of apprehension in his pursed lips and loosely balled hands, but then he plastered on that rakish Bravo grin and lifted his chin.
“Do your worst,” he said, threading his fingers behind his head.
Every inch of him was touchable, so it was only a matter of where to start. What I wanted was his mouth, but that was off-limits. Fortunately, he had a lot more to offer.
I pushed myself up so I was kneeling on the cushion and started with his shirt. One after the other, tiny black buttons came undone on a piece of cloth that probably cost thousands just to make his body look like a masterpiece. And it did, but it was even better when I could see his flesh. Smooth, golden brown skin sliding over the bumps and ridges of violently worked muscle that had been molded into something that could have been goddamn edible if it wasn’t so hard.
He didn’t so much as twitch, even when I pushed his shirt open with my fingertips brushing his skin. Instead, he grinned and popped his pecs, leering. That was perfectly fine because I liked a challenge. He wanted to show off about how comfortable he was being naked? Unsurprising. He was naked in front of other men all the time, but they usually didn’t get on their knees and make him moan like a porn star. That was my specialty. I’d started sucking dick as a teenager, and had always gotten a thrill from the power and control I had in a seemingly submissive position. Men had always thought it meant I was their bitch boy, but they were the ones begging me if I started to slow down.
Adrián was no different.
I leaned forward and encircled his nipple with my mouth.
Adrián shuddered. He cupped the back of my head, but he didn’t yank me back like I’d expected him to. Taking that as a good sign, I started sucking. Hard.
His breath hissed out. “Why does that feel so fucking good?”
The poor man had never had his nipples played with? I would never understand men who spent their time running their mouths over women without ever considering that sensation would feel just as good for them.
I sucked harder while running my free hand up his chest to grip his shoulder. His fingers knotted in my hair, jolting me closer. This was supposed to be about conquering my overgrown bully, but shattering him was the furthest thing from my mind once I inhaled his scent. I mapped my way across his chest with my tongue, tracing every hard line, before latching on to his other nipple.
He groaned, low and guttural, and I almost creamed myself. The air around us was hot, his skin was growing damp beneath me as sweat gathered in the warm room, and I was aching. Forget about revenge; every time he rocked that bulge against my stomach I saw exactly where I wanted this to go. Him naked and me enjoying every inch of that delicious cock as he got vocal above me.
