Blood pumps down into my groin. I harden more.
Fuck.
16
JACK HIGHLAND
I’m wide awake, muscles tightening in blood-rushing, mouth-watering, scorching desire, and I’m staring at a hard cock. His cock.
Oscar is bigger than me, and I’m pretty well-endowed. Did not expect him to outsize me, and I’m not bruised by it. But I’m simultaneously more aroused and more nervous of taking him in my mouth.
My left hand clutches his muscular waist, and I let my palm trail to his back. Down to his ass, and I grip him.
His abs flex.
Jesus fuck, a grunt tangles in my lungs, and we’re not even doing much yet. I shift on the couch. Wanting closer, I edge forward. He stands between my knees like a confident fortress, and I’m used to foreplay with more delicate and soft things.
But I like this too.
A lot.
“Remember how we were talking about stopping?” Oscar asks. “You know you can stop at any time too?”
“Yeah, I know,” I nod. But my breath is jagged. Ragged. Torn up like I’m being plowed with feelings—physical and emotional peaks that I’ve never met. I’m starting to wonder if this is what it’s like to really be with someone after amassing so much untouched desire and deep interest over so many years.
He’s not someone I saw on a college campus one time and then met up with for a date.
It wasn’t quick and simple.
While I drink in his arousal, I rub my palm over my jeans, feeling the strain that begs for firmer grip and touch, and then I take that hand to do to him what I’d do to myself.
I fist him. I stroke him once and study his expression. Oscar is staring down at me, watching me as intently as I am him.
Nerves swarm with a strong pulse of need. I question whether Oscar has been with someone who couldn’t take him in their mouth.
Maybe I’ll be the first that can’t do it—fuck that thought, dude. I’ve never failed at the things I’ve set out to do, and it might take me longer to reach some goals, but in the end, I always reach them.
And I hang onto his words about guiding me if I struggle. I could’ve picked a worse man to blow. A complete bastard.
Oscar isn’t that.
I trust him, and I tug him a couple more times before I slide him in between my lips. Nerves begin to wash away, replaced with instinctual want and craving.
Heat gathers, my dick begging for the back-and-forth friction that I’m giving Oscar. I know how this feels. To have a mouth run back and forth along my shaft. The pressure. The lit nerve-endings. And doing it to someone else, it’s…unlike anything.
My fingers dig into his ass.
A gruff noise splits apart his lips. “Fuck.”
We’re in an inferno. Sweat building on us both while I sit and he stands. While I give and he receives. I’m trying to take more of him, but it’s not easy.
“Breathe through your nose,” Oscar instructs.
I didn’t realize—but yeah, I’m not breathing. I intake a lungful and keep working him over with my mouth. His muscles contract, and another noise rumbles through him. So unlike the high-pitched cries I’m used to hearing.
Deeper. Throatier.
The sounds almost make me come in my fucking pants. Hold it together.
“Jack,” Oscar says my name in a husky whisper.
My dick responds, enjoying that.
I pop him from my mouth to breathe better, and remembering what’s been done to me—what I’ve liked in the past—I slide my tongue down his shaft. Oscar’s head almost lolls back, tendons taut in his neck, and I realize how much I’m watching his reactions.
How much his grunts and body twitches light me on fire. I like making people feel good, but making him feel good turns me on in more extreme ways.
Oscar bows his hips, and he fills my mouth again. I’m about to ease back for friction, but he grips the back of my head and leans more forward. He even presses a knee to the couch. Deepening…I think I’m coming a little.
Fuck.
Fuuuuuck.
His shaft slowly sinks further between my lips. “Hold still,” he tells me, and I wonder if he can see how attracted I am to this.
Because he pumps his hips. I’m watching as he does the work and guides his length between my lips back and forth. Pleasure wraps me in a vice. My arousal is a live-wire he’s toying with, and Oscar disappears inside my mouth. He hits the back of my throat, and I gag a little.
He slows, careful not to hurt me, but thankfully, he continues satiating us. I’ve never been this hard. He thrusts.
I clutch his waist and his ass, feeling him flex forward.
I’m about to burst, and I just want…friction. Ravenously, quickly, I unbutton and unzip myself. His heavy breaths are noises I’ll go to bed dreaming of tonight. His movements are faster with a starved pace that I feel. His hand tightens on my head, fingers clenched in my hair, and I dip my hand under my boxer-briefs.
With him in my mouth, I stroke my swollen erection just once, and we both release hard.
“Fuck,” Oscar groans.
He tastes bitter and salty, and I have no trouble swallowing it down.
Oscar eases out of my mouth, and I breathe harder, especially as he notices I came in my palm. I’m about to ask if he has a cum rag, but he already says, “Here.” He leaves for the kitchen and returns in seconds with a dishtowel.
I wipe myself up.
We’re both on a euphoric come-down. Oscar lowers with a satisfied breath on the couch next to me. He leans in and presses a warm kiss to my cheek.
It instantly makes me smile. I turn my head more to him, and our mouths instinctively meet. I deepen the kiss, and when our lips break, he plants kisses at
