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If he's picking up where we left off last night by playing house then so should I. “That's a good boy. Your mouth was made to please me.”
Blue eyes blink up at me and he hums around my cock, the vibrations of his sounds sending sparks along my skin. Bobbing his head, he works his tongue along the underside, his fingers playing with my balls.
“So hungry for my cock, aren't you?”
He nods, his lips stretching wider to accommodate my girth. Gagging on the way down to my base, his eyes water and saliva spills from the corners of his mouth as I hit the back of his throat.
“How about I give you more of what you want and you sit there taking it like my good boy.”
He shifts on his knees, lowering his hands and no longer moving his mouth.
“You're listening so well, baby. So eager and patient. You're perfect.” He looks up at me like I have everything he needs in the whole damn world. If only that were true and I still had something to offer another person. Something more than broken pieces threatening to slice through them if they try to get too close.
I pull my cock free from his mouth and he whimpers in disappointment, pulling a laugh from me. “Keep that pretty mouth open for me.” I lean down a little more, swiping mythumb over his soft cheek and along his bottom lip. “Daddy can't wait to use you. To cover that pretty face with my cum. You want that?”
“Yes,” he says, his chest expanding.
“Good. If at any time it becomes too much, tap my thighs and this all stops. Got it?”
He nods, spreading his mouth wider, his tongue hanging slightly out. I grip his hair and shove my cock between his puffy lips, slipping inside slowly at first, not going past his tongue yet. Rocking my hips, I fuck in and out of his mouth, his tongue rubbing over the underside of my cock with each thrust. Our shared moans fill the room, and I slam forward, filling his mouth to the brim. His eyes bulge and tears stream down his face as I chase his tight throat. His cheeks puff out and his face is beet red but he doesn’t tap out.
“You’re doing so well for Daddy, baby. So fucking well. I love using you like my own personal toy.” I don't know what I'm saying anymore and words just keep pouring out. His cock peeks out underneath my shirt, hard and leaking. He hasn’t had underwear on this whole time. Pleasure sparks through me. The combination of his warm mouth, his throat squeezing my cock, and the sight of him touching himself has me coming faster than I intended to.
I grip his hair tighter, yanking him off me to give him what I promised. I like to think of myself as being a man of my word. Stroking myself through the remainder of my orgasm, I cover his cheeks, lips, and chest with my cum. His eyes are half lidded and he's completely blitzed out, swaying back and forth. It isn't until I reach down and bring him to his feet that I notice he came too, making a mess all over my shirt.
“You were so good, my sweet boy. Everything I could need this morning.”
“Only this morning?” He slumps against me.
“No. Not just this morning.” I lift him in my arms. I carry him to the couch and sit him down with me on the cushions, stroking his sweaty hair away from his face. We stay like this for a while, both coming down from our high as I hold him in my arms, touching him everywhere I can reach.
It's not until my phone rings that I slide him off my lap and tell him to get dressed. He's changed into one of my shirts and a pair of my smaller sweats, the drawstring pulled tight, when I finally end the call. “We have to go.”
He tugs at the bottom of his shirt, slumping his shoulders. “You'll be with me the whole time?”
“Yes.”
“Then at the end of the day, we'll come home, have dinner, and I'll fall asleep on your side of the bed while you're in the shower?”
Moving closer, I stroke his cheek. “Yup.” We won't be coming back here tonight but I can't help but go along anyway. “Tonight's enchilada night too.”
He smiles. “Enchilada night is my favorite.”
“I know.” I press a kiss to his forehead, not sure if I'm still pretending or if I meant to do that.
He's calm when we exit the house and get in the car. I hold his hand to keep him feeling safe on the way to one of the Herrera hotels. It's not until we reach the break room that he's fidgeting with his shirt and biting the inside of his cheek. Tyson waits by the bathroom, holding the capsules of drugs in a plastic baggie. “Ready?”
“I don't have a choice.” Phillip swipes the bag from his hand and rushes into the bathroom.
“I'll be back. Going to check if the car I'm driving today is ready,” I tell Tyson, exiting the break room. After I'm done looking over the parking lot and car and move our bags around,I walk back into the hotel. Tyson is no longer in the break room when I return. Fernando is in there instead, eating lunch.
“Hola,” I say, leaning against the wall, my gaze staying on the bathroom door.
“Hey. ¿Cómo te va?”
“Good so far,” I reply, still not meeting his gaze.
Phillip exits the bathroom frowning. “I need a few minutes. Maybe some water and that famous soup Angel Castaneda had made for me on the last job.”
