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He reached for the spoon and scooped up a bite, watching me while he brought it up to his lips. He ate it in slow motion, locking eyes with me the whole time, and there was really nothing sexy about a guy eating ice cream, except it made his lips all wet and sticky, and he licked the top one after he swallowed, and okay, maybe there was.
He spooned up another bite, and this time he brought it up to my lips, so slow my eyes crossed watching it come at me. Even though it was boring-ass vanilla I could tell it was good ice cream, and my nostrils twitched, the vanilla smell was so strong.
“Go on,” Caleb told me, his voice so soft I barely heard it. “Open up.”
Another one of those nothing-especially-sexy-about-that moments, except I guess there was, because the cold spoon and the soft, buttery cream pressed up against my lips, and Caleb staring at me so intensely made my breath drown in my lungs like quicksand, and hey, it turned out your boy really liked being seduced, like cheesy movie shit, and honestly, was there anything I wouldn’t fall for if he was the one doing it?
I opened my mouth, and he slipped the spoon in slowly, and the vanilla melted across my tongue, and I swear I’d never tasted anything like it, so thick and rich I could have choked on it. He pulled the spoon away just as slow, still looking at me as I swallowed.
“Good boy. Want another bite?”
I nodded, expecting him to make me pay for it somehow, make me say something or do something to earn it, but he didn’t. He just fed me again, and my dick got harder. I watched him take another bite and then he bent back down to kiss me. His tongue was cold, and I groaned at the sweetness as he stroked it over mine, shivering as he tugged on my lip before pulling away again.
He cupped my jaw in his hand, trying to tease me with his chilly palm, I think, but I whimpered, squeezing my eyes shut, breathing heavy, and rubbed my cheek into his hand, responding without meaning to in a way that really freaked me the fuck out. I was so much hungrier for his touch than for dessert, and I just lost myself being pathetic and begging for more of it.
When I opened my eyes, he looked a little freaked out too, but then he put the spoon back down in the bowl and cupped the other side of my face with his other hand. Not as cold, just as good.
“Look at you,” he whispered, stroking his thumb over my lips, tilting my head up just a little. “You need so much, don’t you? Don’t worry. I’m gonna give you everything, baby.”
He leaned in to kiss me again, holding me tight, his thumbs stroking my jaw, his long fingers cupping the back of my head, possessive and strong. I reached up for his arms, stroking the backs of his wrists, being as gentle as I knew how, sayingyes, more, this, thank you, drowning in his cold kisses.
“Take your shirt off,” he told me after a minute, his voice dark and rough, biting at me between words.
He lifted the bowl off my stomach, and I reached down to grab the bottom of my shirt, struggling underneath him as I pulled it off over my head. The hungry way he stared at me made breaking away from his mouth worth it, made all the double sessions and days I’d camped out in the weight room worth it.
“Jesus, you are really fucking beautiful.” He grinned and shook his head, and I puffed up with the kind of ego I almost never felt— pretty much only on the field or in the locker room when guys would pound me on the shoulders with their fists and call me a monster after I sent somebody to the sideline nurse.
That was different, almost the opposite of this. That kind of shit fueled my rage, but Caleb made me feel… I didn’t even know the right word. Proud, I guess. Worthy. Maybe even a little beautiful.
Then he tipped the bowl of ice cream, and a stream of vanilla splattered all across my chest, and I was squirming and squealing and ice-cold, and all that ego was fucking gone as I tried to buck him off me, putting my hands up way too late to block him.
“Fucking asshole.” My shoulders twitched as I shivered underneath him, and he reached out and put the bowl down on the table.
“Shh…” He inched back, further down the couch, and then bent down over my chest and started to lick it off. Long, hungry swipes of his tongue between my pecs and over my nipples, and Jesus, I’d never stopped being mad so fast.
He lapped up my sides and across my shoulders, up to my neck to suck hard, and back down to my nipples to tease with his teeth before moving lower to my stomach. Cleaning every inch of me that was covered in ice cream and every inch that wasn’t, until my whole upper half was damp and shiny and I was practically convulsing with want, writhing and shivering underneath him.
“Still think I’m an asshole?” he asked me, licking along the waistband of my sweats, nudging my dick with his chin.
“Fucking yes,” I laughed, thrusting my hips, trying to rub off on his face, and he laughed too, shoving me back down, pinning my hips to the couch.
“Hold that thought, brat.”
He reached over for the ice cream again, and I groaned, covering my face with my hands. “No. Dude, don’t fucking do it.”
“Come on. It’s okay.”
I barely needed coaxing to let him feed me another bite, and it was melted now, almost like a milkshake, but still so fucking good. Even better when he kissed me, chasing the sweetness around my mouth. Then he took a huge bite and another one, making a big show of swallowing and licking his lips before he put it back down.
I watched him, breathing heavy, as he grabbed my sweats and my shorts together at the waist and yanked them down. My dick popped out, hard and horny, and he lowered himself down, inching back to the end of the couch, and fucking devoured me. Took me down in one swallow until I was settled in his throat, squirming and whining and thrusting.
His mouth was a cold shock around me, but as he worked his jaw, slid up and down, it warmed up fast, just felt so fucking tingly and good I couldn’t think, and I closed my eyes, reaching down to touch him. His shoulder, his hair, just to make sure he was real.
He was so goddamn good at sucking dick, so good at teasing, so good at giving me everything I could think to want. His gaze was all dazed and heavy-lidded as he worked my dick, and I couldn’t stop watching, couldn’t stopfeelinghow much he wanted me. He reached up with one hand and found my nipple, stroking across it with his thumb until I moaned, then pinching, his eyes narrowing as he squeezed tighter, until I whimpered and arched my back, bucking up into his mouth.
He dragged his tongue up and down me a few more times as he threaded me down his throat and back, base to tip with just the right amount of pressure, and then letting go right before I hit no return.
“On the floor,” he told me, reaching out with one hand and swinging the coffee table off to the side, making a big empty spot for me. “Head down, ass up. I wanna see those sweet red cheeks.”
