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I bite the corner of my lip and stare into his baby blues. “I’ve been known to recover quickly.”
“So, um. Does that mean you need to jerk off again?”
“I can.” I shift my palms from his chest, over his shoulders and down his arms until I find his hands, and set them on my thighs. “Or you can do it for me.”
His fingers clench my legs as he gasps.
“You’ve never touched another man’s cock before, right?”
He shakes his head firmly but lets his gaze drift downward.
“Do you want to?” I rock my hips slightly, so the tip of my shaft brushes over the shirt covering his stomach.
Timid eyes meet mine for a fraction of a second before they dart away. “Would you…want that?”
“I would love that.” I take one of his hands in mine and hold it between us, tracing my fingers over his. “I would love to feel these long, strong fingers wrapped around me. Squeezing and rubbing and pulling my cum out of me.”
“I’m not sure I can do that.”
I set his hand back on my thigh, loving how the warm weight of it feels on my skin. Loving even more that he lets it rest there. “You can just watch again, if you want.”
“No, I mean I’m not sure I can do that for you, since I’ve never… I don’t know what you like.”
“I like having my dick played with.” I prop my hands on his legs and lean back slightly, giving him plenty of room to ogle, touch, even dump me off his lap if that’s what he wants. But considering he hasn’t shoved me off yet, I’m betting he’ll let me sit here until I come again. I’m also betting he’ll join in for this round.
That’s maybe a little presumptuous of me. I don’t have any experience with asexuality—if that’s what we’re dealing with here—so it’s possible I’m pushing him too far too fast. However, I’m a pretty observant fucker, good at reading what people say with their expressions, and Noah’s tells me his curiosity hasn’t been sated. Still, I’m caught a little off guard when one of his large hands slides along my leg, up my torso, and starts rubbing my chest.
The pressure is firm, not hard, though not as tentative as I would’ve expected. His palm slides between my pecs, gliding over one before moving to the other, fingertips grazing a nipple that perks up obediently, and I find myself closing my eyes as I sink into his touch, my steady breathing the only audible sound in the room.
My cock is standing at attention, begging to be touched, but this slow perusal of my body feels just as heavenly as having my dick pumped. Who knew?
“Why blond?” Noah interrupts the silence.
“What?”
He tips his chin up, indicating he means my hair. “Why blond? Why not blue? Or green?”
“Blond goes with my eyes.” I arch into his hand, a silent plea for him to keep stroking. He does, dragging his fingers down to my rose tattoo and tracing the lines almost reverently.
I don’t typically let people do that—most guys treat ink as a sex symbol when it’s the one thing on my body that I don’t flaunt for sex —but the gentle giant admiring them now isn’t doing it to turn me on. Not deliberately. I can tell by the awed expression on his face, the same one he wore when he first asked about them. He appreciates the art, respects the words, and for that I’ll let him look as long as he wants.
Noah’s finger brushes over the petals, but when it hits the stem, which hovers just above my hip, my stomach clenches as I gasp. He pulls his hand back abruptly, mumbling a hasty, “Sorry.”
I take his hand and put it back, holding it to my torso. “Don’t stop. Just be ready for me to jump if you tickle me again.”
Using a firmer touch, Noah slides his hand to my hip, fingers grazing where my pubes would be if I had them, and I groan softly.
“It’s really more sensitive?” he asks, referring to my smooth skin.
“You ever shave that stubble off your face?” A faint line divides Noah’s brows but he nods his head even though he clearly doesn’t follow why I’m asking. “Then you know without that hair your nerves seem to wake up. They’re so alert you can actually feel the air on your face.” His expression softens as he connects the dots. “That’s how I feel everywhere.”
Noah’s Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, and his hand shifts lower, fingertips ghosting along the base of my cock, which bobs expectantly. Blue eyes riveted between my legs, he traces a path up my length, licking his lip when that finger catches the precum pooling at the crown.
While I have the presence of mind not to spook him with jerky movements, I’m helpless to stop my hips from tilting upward, chasing after his touch. The barest of friction puts my entire body on edge, like I’m a star on the verge of becoming a supernova, the energy within me too unstable to contain.
Why his slow, curious touch has me so riled when I’m usually a fan of enthusiastic fucking, I have no idea, but with my cock as hard as a steel rod, there’s no denying I like being the object of his sexual exploration. That’s not new—I enjoy the opportunity to corrupt men who think they’re straight—although it doesn’t usually go like this. Sure, they might be a little hesitant at first, but there comes a point where they either strike like a rabid animal or nope the fuck out. I’ve never had a guy embrace the experience in such a prolonged way, mapping my body with awe.
I may boast about my spectacular dick, and I’m proud to say no one’s ever expressed disappointment. Still, Noah’s fascination is hot and mind-blowingly erotic, yet unexpected.
