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Merrick
Davis takes a seat on the end of the bed and unlaces his sneakers.
His eyes remain on mine as he tosses socks and shoes aside, then rises to stand before me. Without pause, I reach for the hem of his shirt, slowly lifting it up and off. It gets tossed onto the floor haphazardly, and then I reach for the button on his jeans.
There’s a hint of fear lacing his eyes, but the bold need I see there is much stronger. Neither of us may know how this night will play out, but neither is backing down or walking away either. I see it in the stubborn lift of his chin; in the way he refuses to look away, in the slow, even breaths he takes. If he’s nervous, he’s hiding it well.
The jeans fall to the floor and he immediately steps out of them and kicks them aside. The snug boxer-briefs outline a thick, hard cock, straining against the cotton as I lazily look him over. I’m in no hurry. I want to take my time with him and build the intensity between us until it’s combustible. I need him completely relaxed and fully on board, not caught up in his head as he tends to be. I need him to want this, as much or more than I do.
Hooking my thumbs into the waistband, I pause long enough to give him a moment to decide. There is no need to rush this, no need to push him or ask him to do something he’s not ready to do. In my heart and deep down in my soul, I believe fully that he’s willing to try and to take this chance on me. On us. Still, I need his consent, regardless of where this takes us.
His nod of agreement, when it comes, is all the approval I need.
I slide the briefs down and they get added to the ever-growing pile of clothes on the floor. I’m not shy about how I look at him, and look at him I do. His entire body is lean muscle and chiseled edges, heavy with need for me. His cock stands up in greeting, thickening as I look him over. I take in the warm olive tone of his skin, the smoothness of his pecs, the hard point of each nipple. His abs flex with each breath, the fingers of one hand curled against his thigh in a tight fist. It’s as if he’s fighting the urge to touch me. Or maybe that’s what I hope I see.
Taking a step back, I draw in a deep breath and slowly begin to shed my clothes. First the shoes and socks, then my shirt lands on his, denim and cotton following shortly thereafter. His eyes widen as they land on my naked body, and the way his tongue darts out to stroke his bottom lip is almost my undoing. I need to slow this down. Ihaveto slow this down. Never in my life have I wanted something so badly, and yet I’m desperate to draw it out as long as I’m able.
“Lie on the bed for me.”
There’s a slight hesitation at my statement, and a dash of fear crossing through his brown eyes, before he stubbornly lifts his chin and does what I direct. He doesn’t seem surprised that I don’task. The way his cock thickens even more makes me think he likes this sort of kink; firm commands, bold directions. He’s surprisingly resilient and determined to not allow fear to ruin this moment between us, which is all the more reason why I have to slow down and take my time with him.
Leaning over, but not allowing our skin to touch in any way, I murmur, “Close your eyes.”
There’s that fear again, only this time it fully takes over his gaze and his eyes widen with panic. He’s tough enough to not ask me why I demand that, but worried enough to show me his anxiety. Brave and bold. Hesitant and unsure. Two sides of this delicious man that I’m growing more attached to with each passing day.
“Let me take care of you,” I repeat. “Trust me.” The worry begins to recede and the half-smile he gives me is all the confirmation I need that I’m on the right path. “Go on. Close your eyes.” With a soft sigh of relief, he complies.
Seeing him lying there naked and hard for me makes my heart bounce in my chest like it’s been injected with adrenalin. I want so much to make this good for him. I want him so lost in what his body is experiencing that he has difficulty piecing together thoughts. Or preferably, not thinking at all.
Moving to the end of the bed, I lightly dance my fingertips over the tops of his feet; giving him a moment to accept my touch and warm to it. He initially flinches with surprise, but soon swallows hard and offers me a nod of permission.
Running my palms over his calves, I marvel at the silkiness of light brown hair on his skin, the tautness of the strong muscles from all the running we do. My thumbs dance over his kneecaps as I settle between his legs, then give him another few moments to adjust to the newness of it all. We may have kissed, and I may have had my hand down his pants, but being naked with one another is almost overwhelming for me. I cannot imagine how it must feel for him. I have such a huge responsibility with this man, much more than I’ve ever had with another partner. This isn’t just about the sex or getting off. This is about the trust he places in me and my ability to take care him. This is about friendship….and caring….and maybe—hopefully—about love too.
Leaning over his body, I drop soft kisses down one arm, taking his fingers in mine and offering a reassuring squeeze. I repeat the act on the opposite arm and hand, careful not to touch his cock with my body. My tongue drifts over one nipple and I watch, elated, as his mouth drops open and a low moan escapes.
The other nipple gets the same attention before I kiss my way over each defined ab muscle, following each move with a drift of my tongue. His skin tastes slightly salty—from our busy morning no doubt—and likehim,which is an undefinable taste that I’ve grown to crave; just as I have his kisses, the touch of his hand, the warmth of his neck that I love to bury my nose in.
I kiss my way over one hip, down his thigh, lifting my eyes to insure he’s okay with all I’m doing. Both hands are curled into fists and the slight arch to his back is a silent invitation to continue.
Which is why I stop and sit upright.
I need him to come undone for me, and I wish I could explain why. I suppose doing so would mean he craves this intimacy just as I do. And that he wants more. Always more. I want him spiraling, his voice tinged with anger as he insists I continue. I need to know that he can’t imagine being anywhere else then in this moment with me.
My hands curl around his ankles, thumbs stroking the defined bones as I watch his face intently. He frowns, then his face softens as I once again slowly rub my hands over his legs. His muscles flex as I grip his thighs, a muttered protest falling from his lips when I slide them back down to his feet.
I know what he wants. If the tense line of his muscles wasn’t the giveaway, the rigid cock would certainly be. I’m just not convinced he wants the same thing I do; my fist or my mouth.
Up and down his body I go, following the same path I did before with my lips and tongue, carefully not giving him what he wants most. His cock is flushed dark red at the end, dripping precum like a faucet, just as I am. There’s an odd buzzing in my ears, and I realize my heart is pounding so fast I’m lightheaded. I haven’t been with a man in so long I’d forgotten how overwhelming it can be, how all-consuming desire can feel when it takes over completely. This is most likely why I’m not a fan of one nighters; it’s difficult to get this full-bodied elation when you barely know the person you’re with. And when you’re not heart-invested.
On all fours above him, I stroke my tongue across his lips, and take his mouth completely in mine. He whimpers as my cock finally comes in contact with his, moans louder when I give my hips a slow roll and grind on him.
“Fuck!Please….Merrick…please…touch me. Do something.” Even though he’s rambling and has been pushed to the deep end, he stubbornly keeps his eyes closed; though now they’re pinched tightly shut, almost as if he’s afraid to open them.
That simply will not do.
Reaching down, I take him in hand and slide my fist from root to tip. He curses again, arching his back as I kiss down his abs toward my final destination. I could seriously spend all day with my lips on his stomach, or against his neck. The man has no idea just how desperately I need to make him mine.
With my mouth poised inches away from his shaft, I demand, “Open your eyes.”
