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Fucking hell. “Please, can you fuck me now?”
“Much better.”
He slowly withdraws his fingers, prompting me to let out a mortifying whimper at the sudden feeling of emptiness.
Any hopes that Deacon might have missed it are shattered when he lets out a putter of amusement, then murmurs in my ear, “Don’t worry, you’ll be stuffed full of my cock in a second.”
I shiver at his words, once again noting the complete one-eighty from the guy I was chatting to earlier in the night. I don’t have much time to contemplate the shift, however, because as promised, I feel the head of Deacon’s cock lining up with my entrance a moment later.
My whole body is thrumming; my cock is aching, my ass is throbbing, even my legs are shaking slightly with the anticipation of what’s about to come. I need this. So much more than I did earlier in the night when I first went out looking for a hook-up. I’m absolutely desperate for it now. The finger fuck might have helped to take the edge off a little, but now I can see it was a mere substitute for what I really need. I’m like a junkie who managed to tide himself over with some morphine before getting his hands on the real thing.
And I realize that analogy kind of highlights just how unhealthy this coping mechanism I’ve developed for myself is, but now’s not exactly the time to be analyzing that mental tangle.
“Come on,” I groan, pushing back against Deacon’s cock. “I need you in me, not just parked at my hole.”
“Uh, yeah, I just realized I don’t have a condom,” he says. The cocky fucker who’s been taunting me and teasing me has disappeared and the hesitant guy from the bar is back. “Is that a problem?”
I spin around, my eyes wide with horror. “What? How could you not have condoms?” And how could he only just be rememberingnowwhen I’m two seconds away from self-combusting.
His expression is apologetic but he lifts his shoulders in a shrug. “I don’t need them. I’m on PrEP and get tested like clockwork.”
I let out a grunt of frustration, lifting a hand up and thrusting my fingers roughly through my hair. I have no idea what PrEP is, but I can’t remember the last time I was tested, which means it was too long ago. “Damn it.”
“You don’t have anything?” he asks hopefully.
“Not on me. I usually take hook-ups back to my place.”
His eyes widen, telling me he hasn’t forgotten that he’s well aware I’m the parent of a five-year-old. “Yourplace?”
“Not my brownstone,” I clarify. “I have a penthouse in Brooklyn.”
“Oh.” He nods, and then a thoughtful expression crosses his face. “Jesus, how richareyou?”
“Well, I’d happily fork over a hundred grand for a condom right now,” I say wistfully.
He lets out a bark of laughter, then his eyes light up. “Hang on. I might have a solution.” He strides over to a set of drawers and retrieves some sweatpants, tugging them on before brushing past me toward the door.
“What? Where are you going?”
“Give me two seconds. Don’t go anywhere.”
“Where the fuck am I going to go?” I growl.
Ignoring me, he exits the bedroom, closing the door behind him. A minute or so later, he’s back, brandishing a little plastic packet. “We’re lucky. It was the last one. I’ll get shit from Drew about this tomorrow but I have a feeling it’ll be worth it,” he adds with a smirk.
Relief washes through me and I feel a burst of warmth at the lengths Deacon has gone to for my comfort. It’s not just the risk of disease that bothers me—I’m sure with the precautions Deacon takes that would be low anyway—the fact is, I just don’t feel comfortable having a guy’s cum in me. Hypocritical, I know—I can let him fuck me, but not finish in me—but it’s just how I feel and I’m not sure I should have to apologize for it. “Thank you,” I tell him, offering a grateful smile.
“It’s cool. And I’ll accept payment in the form of a check,” he teases.
I let out a wry laugh. “Well, it’s Drew’s condom, so…”
“Bur I went all the way over to his room to get it,” he argues.
“What about payment in the form of a fuck?” I suggest. “Pretty sure this is a hundred thousand dollar ass.” I turn around to give him a view of my backside, running a hand over my left cheek before giving it a little slap.
Deacon lets out a wry chuckle and then I sense him moving up close behind me. His hand replaces mine, his fingers giving my ass a firm squeeze and making me groan. “I don’t know. Fifty grand, maybe.”
I’ve lost the thread of the conversation because the feel of his breath on my skin and his hands on my body is making my bones practically melt. Lust and need sizzle away inside me and the only thought my brain can form isNow! Now! Fucking hell, get inside me now!
