He swallows and licks me clean. He even helps me pull my boxer-briefs and pants back up while I try to catch my breath. That’s when I notice the look of guilt on his face.
He turns to go back to cooking.
“What’s up?” I ask.
“So, funny story …”
My heart sinks. “Was that a goodbye BJ? Is Cheri gone from your apartment?”
“Uh, no. Actually, we went to lunch today and she, uh, needs a few more days, but this isn’t about that.”
Relief floods me, because I don’t want him to leave. Does it make me a bad person that I’m thankful his mother is sick? It means he gets to keep staying here, without me having to tell him I want him here. I’m worried admissions like that will scare him off. For a supposed manwhore, he’s adjusted to our situation well, but part of me wonders if he’s freaking out about being thrust into a semi-serious relationship when we agreed we’d take things slow. We haven’t used the B word yet, but we’re practically living together. I keep waiting for “I need space” to come out of his mouth.
I can feel that I’m getting ahead of myself, but I’ve always been a relationship guy. I’ve had my share of hookups, but I want someone to come home to at night. I want serious. I resisted Maddox for over a month, so it feels like we’ve started in the middle. Being thrust together hasn’t helped in trying to go slow, but the thing is, I don’t give a shit about slow anymore.
Fuck, don’t say any of this aloud. He’ll run away faster than Usain Bolt.
We haven’t even had sex yet. Well, sex-sex. We’ve mastered blowjobs.
Maddox looks away as he says, “You know how we decided not to tell Stacy about us yet because she’s intense?”
Right, another thing—we haven’t told my sister or family we’re seeing each other yet. “I believe the word we used was insane, but yes, go on.”
“When Cheri came to take me to lunch today, I wasn’t thinking and introduced Stacy as your sister—”
“Shit. She knows?”
“Yup.” Maddox looks behind me at the clock on the wall. “And she’s coming over for dinner. In like fifteen minutes.”
“She’s going to yell at both of us.”
“Hey, I already endured my share at work. This is all for you. Aren’t you glad I gave you a blowjob first?”
“I need a lot more than a blowjob to be able to deal with my sister.”
“Maybe you can fuck me later then.”
While my jaw drops to the floor, Maddox walks into the bedroom. My feet trip over themselves trying to follow him. When I manage to get to the door, Maddox is already pulling on his jeans and putting on a shirt.
“We don’t have time now,” he says in an obvious tone. “Your sister’s going to be here soon.”
“But … and—”
“Before you ask, yes, I’m sure, no I won’t freak out, and I know you’ll stop if I don’t like it.”
I don’t have any words for him. The thought of fucking him has my spent cock waking up again. But then the idea weighs heavily in my chest, and I begin to wonder what I’m doing with Maddox. Being someone’s first is stressful. Hell, my first time didn’t go so well, and it ruined it for me forever.
My college boyfriend and I were both virgins and underprepared. It hurt. A lot. Even now, with all the lube in the world, it’s difficult for me to come that way.
What if Maddox doesn’t like it?
He approaches me and wraps his arms around my waist. “Why are you freaking out right now?”
“How do you know I’m freaking out?”
“You think I can’t read you? You could read me the minute we met.”
Instead of answering, my mouth comes down on his. He responds with a groan and opens for me. Our tongues mash together, and we tumble onto the bed, me pinning him beneath me.
My mouth leaves his and moves to the stubble on his cheek and neck.
“I need to shave,” he says.
“Don’t. I like it rough.”
“Are we talking about my skin or the way you like to fuck?”
I groan. “There’s so many things I want to do to you right now but won’t.”
Maddox throws his head back as my lips trail down his throat. “We don’t have time,” he agrees.
“I just need you.” Not sex. Not a blowjob. Just him.
We continue to kiss, making out like teenagers, until the timer on the oven blares through the apartment, followed by a knock on my apartment door.
“Told you,” Maddox says breathlessly. “Now she’s gonna know we were fucking around. Look at your hair.”
I stand and catch my reflection in the mirror over my dresser. He’s right. My cheeks are flushed, my hair a mess, my lips swollen … fuck. “You get the door. I’ll get the oven.”