Max's backside hit the mattress with Pavlovian speed. "I'm already enjoying it."
I pushed his clothes all the way down to his ankles and tugged them free. "Come on. Don't set a low bar for me."
"I'm not," he said, his words soft as he watched me settling between his legs, sliding my palms over his bare thighs. "This is perfect, Jory. You're perfect."
I took his cock in hand because I didn't want this to be about the things we said to each other anyway. I wanted him to feel the things I wasn't adept at putting into words and I wanted him to accept them as if I'd said them, shouted them, screamed them into cold, stone-carved truth.
Max's hands moved over my shoulders, up my neck, and into my hair, his body vibrating as I worked him. I swallowed him down and groaned around his girth. The scents of body wash and musk mingled with the rich, salty taste of him on my tongue. I worked him hard and took him deep even as tears filled my eyes and spilled over.
When I slipped a hand between his legs to cup his sac, he tightened his hold on my hair. He shifted a bit, scooting his backside right to the edge. Ahhhh. That was where he wanted my attention.
"Jory, Jory, Jory, I'm, oh my god, yes," he stammered, his words running together as I swept a finger over his back channel. His spine arched as he growled low and loud at the ceiling. "I'm—ohmygod—yes."
Since I wasn't letting this end after a few brief moments, I bobbed my head in agreement as I shifted from quick, intense strokes to a slower yet equally intense rhythm.
"Ohhh."
I glanced up through the gag-tears and watched Max drop his head back, his face angled toward the ceiling and his chest heaving. Even with lights on, it was shadowy down here, but I couldn't miss the flush coloring his cheeks and neck. He was so damn beautiful. I wanted to tell him that. I wanted him to know he was the best thing I'd ever had at my mercy, the best thing by far, and I'd do this forever if he let me. I'd fall to the ground and let this enormous bear of a man take everything he needed from me, let him use me in any way he wanted so long as it was my name that never left his lips.
I wanted to tell him all of this but I couldn't. Even if those words glowed in my head like neon signs, I didn't know how to speak them. All I could do was go on teasing, sucking, stroking. Praying these emotions traveled through skin and muscle. Praying he knew.
Though the angle wouldn't allow me to pull off this move for long, I pushed a finger inside him as I swallowed him to the root. A hoarse, wheezing sound rattled out of him and he tightened his grip on my hair like he was in terrible pain but that first, ripe taste of salt promised he wasn't in any form of pain.
"I've heard about this," Max said through clenched teeth.
Since I had a very large dick in my mouth, my response came in the form of raised eyebrows.
"This is the marriage blow job," he continued, one hand on my head and the other braced behind him on the bed as his hips jerked up to fuck my face. "The blow job that's so good it ends in a proposal."
There were gag-tears streaming down my face and I was going to have a cowlick tomorrow from all this hair pulling but I managed to smile as his cock shuttled in and out of my mouth.
"That's okay, Jory. I know you. I know you didn't plan it this way," he drawled. "I'm not even sad you beat me to it."
I managed a jerky nod as he surged forward, locking me in place with his hand on the back of my head. I didn't know what he meant about beating him to something but there wasn't time to examine all these stray comments as he cursed and exploded down my throat.
It was a full minute of him filling my mouth, holding me steady, humming and gasping and vibrating as if unbound electricity was coursing through him. It was a lot. I was no blow job master. I knew what I was doing, but I didn't know how to be comfortable with my tear-stained cheeks or my swollen, reddened mouth or the painful erection trapped under cruelly slim trousers that I wouldn't be able to disguise when pushing to my feet.
I didn't know how to embrace the ugly side of sex, the side that wasn't ugly or awkward or shameful at all. If it was anything, it was the human side and that was what I didn't know how to embrace.
Not until Max Murphy cupped my cheeks in his hands, thumbed away my tears, and said, "I love you. No, I don't want you to say anything. I don't want you to say a single word because I know you're not ready for words but I love you. Someday, I'm gonna marry your ass off. You just tell me when you're ready for that."
I bobbed my head. "Okay."
He grinned, big and warm and dazed, and hauled me onto the bed. "Let's get you naked. I'm not finished with you yet."
6
Max
The drive from Boston to Sugarloaf, way up in the Carrabassett Valley of Maine, was stupidly long. Really, truly, stupidly long. At several points during those four and a half hours, I suggested we pull off the highway and find somewhere else to hide away for the next seven days, somewhere we could be now.
Jory thought I was joking. He laughed and smiled and nuzzled his head against my shoulder while I scowled at the road. He filled the time by thinking aloud about the seventh
