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When I think he’s done, he pulls himself from me, his hand pushing against my back. “Stay put, I’m not done, not even close.”
He drops to his knees, and I don’t understand what he’s doing until his touch connects with my ass, and fuck, his tongue is slurping up all his cum, and he’s rimming me at the same time.
“You’re killing me here, baby.”
“No, not at all. I’m just a little hungry and drunk on you.”
There’s no doubt about my impending feelings for Clark Farmer. None at all.
* * *
My back isagainst the side of the couch, and Clark is lying in front of me, as my fingers play with his hair. “We should eat because I can’t imagine we’re done tonight.”
Clark grabs my hand, tugging it down his chest, peppering kisses on my fingers. “I sure hope not, but I’m not hungry, not yet. Could we stay like this for now, Xan?”
He’s not saying what I’m thinking, but somehow we’ve grown closer, without talking about it. I don’t talk after sex, not since David. But Clark is different.
“Okay, Farmer, something on your mind?” I ask in a quizzical tone.
“Not really,” he replies as he kisses my fingers some more. “But since we’re talking, tell me about your meeting today?”
I groan because it’s stuff I could care less about. Sure, it’s shit I do for my clients all the time, but that is my choice, not my father’s.
“That bad?” he asks.
“I hate my father’s business. And everything about it, what it stands for and most of all, him.”
The anger my dad enrages inside of me comes from out of left field most days, even when he’s not around to demand things from me, and yet, it’s the last thing I want to talk about with Clark.
“I never thought much of Lyle in the past, but I can hear it in your voice, how much he’s hurt you.” He’s caressing my arm, comforting me with his words, and in it there’s peace.
“Thanks, baby.” I kiss him on the ear, tugging his back closer to my chest, a blanket draped over both of us.
“How did David feel about him?” he asks, tilting his head to the side, his pitch is higher than his typical conversational tone. He’s curious about David, but maybe it’s because he knows I loved David similar to what’s brewing between us. But I loved David, in past tense. Clark is my future.
“David hated my dad. Lyle never accepted him, not because of my sexuality, which he wasn’t particularly pleased about, but because David overheard my dad calling him a gold digger, stating that he was with me for my money. Contrary to what my father believes, not everyone knows of the Lynol name. I was Alex Roan when we first met. And when he found out about my lineage, he couldn’t have cared less, he loved me for me.”
“How did David take his strong words?”
I laugh at the memory. “He had my father’s expensive bourbon in his tumbler. He tossed it in his face, telling him he never accepted any money from me, nor did he want it. I thought I’d lose David that night, or that he’d move out of the apartment I bought for us to start our life together. But he assured me my dad took too much from me already and would not take away our future.”
It always hurt to speak of David. I always suspected my dad had a part in dividing us after law school. But I could never prove it. But it doesn’t matter now, not with Clark.
“I don’t know how a father does that to his son.”
“Yeah, it’s probably foreign to you. But I can’t nor do I want to talk about the asshole, not a second longer. Tell me about your place. I was hoping I’d be able to see it while I’m here.”
“It’s a shoebox and is smaller than the place I shared with Jen.”
“I never saw your place in Minneapolis, babe.”
“Hmm, I guess you didn’t. But it’s not much. A place to lay my head and it’s over the best pizzeria you’ll ever find. The neighborhood is awesome, being in Little Italy and all.”
Is he ashamed to share it with me? “I still want to see where you lay your head at night.”
He’s quiet but relaxes into my embrace. “Would you like to come over tomorrow? We can order a pie from downstairs and hang out. Maybe I’ll let you fuck me.”
Why is this so easy when it had been so hard for years?
