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I grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the closed door at the far end of the room. “This way?” I asked belatedly, acting like I hadn’t snooped through the exterior windows at the back of the house one afternoon.
His hand was warm and damp in mine. Clearly he was nervous, but I’d also felt his own hardness against my own, so I knew he was as turned on as I was. I silently vowed to take good care of him, to make him feel good.
When I opened the bedroom door, I was surprised by how messy it was. Kev kept his gaming lair spotless. Everything had a place, and he seemed meticulous about keeping things tidy. His bedroom, on the other hand, looked like a tornado had ripped through it. Clothes were piled on the floor, and the navy-and-white comforter was in a tangle at the foot of the bed. The pillows looked like they’d been used to fight a war, and one of the corners of the fitted sheet had long given up the fight and surrendered to the center of the mattress.
And in the center of the bed was a very worn, very bedraggled stuffed duck.
“Oh no,” Kev said under his breath. “I… uh… hang on a minute!” He turned and shoved me back out the door, slamming it closed between us.
I placed my palm on the closed door and fought a grin. “I don’t care if it’s messy,” I said through the barrier.
“It’s not usually like this,” he swore. “It’s usually very neat! It’s just… fuck,” he muttered. His voice lowered. “I wasn’t expecting anyone to see. Ever. But that’s fine! No problem. I can do this! I’m just going to straighten the bed, and then I can…Wait! Henry Cavill! Play Marvin Gaye’s ‘Let’s Get It On’—”
I opened the door and strode through it, grabbing Kev up, yanking the duck from his hands, and depositing him on his back on the unmade bed before following him down and crushing his mouth with mine.
“I’m not here to see your room, Kev,” I rasped out, yanking his head back so I could meet his eyes. “Okay?”
“Playing Chris Isaak’s ‘Wicked Game,’” a deep, cultured, oddly satisfied voice said, moments before haunting, aching guitar chords began playing softly in the background. The lights dimmed automatically.
Kev made a soft exhale of agreement, and his eyes went liquid. Then he lifted his head up to kiss me back.
After kissing all thoughts from his head, I tore off my shirt and began stripping him down methodically, starting with his glasses.
“So sexy,” I said as I placed them safely on his bedside table. The way his pale skin flushed made me feel supremely powerful.
I dropped kisses on every single inch of that skin until each of his exhales became a small whimper or a grunt, and his eyes turned glassy with need.
“Gonna come,” he squeaked a few times too early, but I simply grabbed the base of his cock and squeezed firmly.
“Not. Yet,” I warned. “I want to make it last. I’ve been waiting a long time for this.” Longer than I’d let myself believe.
He panted into the air, his chest heaving with the shallow breaths. “Can’t… can’t…”
“You can,” I said. “You will.”
“Jasper,” he begged, using the name I’d so rarely heard out of his mouth. It was enough to nearly unman me. My cock begged for relief, but this was for him, for Kev, and I wasn’t about to take my hands off him to give myself pleasure.
Kev’s fingers threaded into my hair and gripped it tightly when I finally took his dick in my mouth and swallowed it down.
“Ahh! Oh God, oh. Oh! Oh God. You’re… you’re sucking me.” The pure wonder in his voice made me redouble my efforts. “Oh my God.”
I fondled his balls with one hand and ran the other one up his stomach to his chest before tweaking his nipple with my thumb.
“Can I come? Oh, Hux, please!”
I met his eyes and pulled off long enough to make an affirmative sound before dropping down on his cock again and trying to make it the best orgasm of his life.
Pretty sure I succeeded.
11
KEV
Proper blow job etiquette was not one of the things I’d learned during the year my grandfather had sent me to cotillion, and I wasn’t sure I had the brains to ad-lib at the moment.
“You didn’t come,” I said stupidly to the man who’d collapsed on the bed beside me. Damn, but Hux looked good on my rumpled sheets.
Hux’s laugh was pained. “Give me about half a second, sweetheart.”
I glanced down and saw him pulling open his fly. My stomach swooped with excitement, and I put my hand on his wrist to stop him. “Can I?”
Hux flipped our hands over and shoved mine into his underwear with a groan of relief. My fingers automatically wrapped around a surprisingly girthy cock, and I made a sound so needy I might have been embarrassed if Hux hadn’t moaned my name and thrust up into my grip in a way that suggested my noises were really working for him.
