“He sounds… practiced,” Ryan said.
“Ew,” Gary said. “Is that your sex face? I am getting kind of grossed out just being here right now. It’s like my children are about to bone.”
“There are so many things wrong with that sentence!” I shouted at him.
“We’re clear,” Ryan said. “No dragon shit, and we’ll be good.”
“Not too good, I hope,” I heard Gary purr.
“Yep,” I said. “Time to leave. Bye, Gary! Bye! Thank you! Bye!”
“Rude,” Gary said. “But also accep
table. I’ll leave you to it. Sam, I expect to see you in the morning with tales of your flower being devoured.”
I ran out of the bathroom, but he was already cackling his way out the door. I slammed it behind him, flicking the heavy lock for good measure. I began to plot his timely demise for the millionth time since I’d known him and had a pretty good scenario in my head involving a vat of acid when I realized I was standing next to Ryan Foxheart wearing nothing but a towel.
He’d changed too, wearing a light cotton shirt that clung to his skin. Loose-fitting trousers hung at his waist. His feet were bare, and I found that strangely adorable. His hair was wet, as he must have bathed as well. His eyes were on me, dark and heated, and I swallowed thickly. A trickle of water rolled down his throat to his collarbone, and I wanted to chase it with my tongue.
So I did.
There was a sharp intake of air as my tongue flicked out against his throat, tasting the droplet, licking up the path it left. I followed it up and my cheek brushed against his and our lips met, slick and hot as he kissed me. His hands came up to my hair, fingers digging and tugging gently as he worked his mouth over mine. His tongue slid wetly over my lips and I groaned, opening my mouth. He took it as invitation and I was pressed again at the door, my back against the wood, his front against mine from head to toe.
I didn’t stop myself from grinding into him this time, and I shuddered when I felt an answering hardness. There was electricity in the contact, and my skin felt stretched taut and hot. He kept one hand in my hair, pulling my head back as he sucked lightly on my throat. He dropped his other hand down against my chest, fingers trailing until his nails scraped against my right nipple. I gasped when he pinched the skin lightly. “Okay?” he murmured against my lips.
“Yeah,” I said. “I’m so fucking okay right now.”
He chuckled. “I have plans.”
“Do you?” I asked, opening my eyes, his face inches from my own.
“Yes,” he said, resting his hand on my stomach. He brushed his groin against mine again, and I trembled at the touch. “I’m going to take care of you. I promise. I’m going to make sure you won’t—”
“I didn’t have sex with Moishe,” I blurted out, unable to stop myself. “I just… wanted you to know. I didn’t have sex with him.”
He closed his eyes and took a stuttering step back, and for a moment, I thought maybe I’d done something wrong. Granted, it was probably not the best to be speaking about sex with another person (or lack thereof) when you’re about to get funky with someone else, but I couldn’t let that stay hidden. I couldn’t let him think otherwise. Everything was on the table now. No more hiding.
“But,” he said. “You…. Randall said. He could smell the elf on you.”
“I was going to,” I said, trying to force the words out. “I went there. To Mama’s. To let him take from me what he wanted. I was so fucking pissed off at you and I wasn’t thinking clearly and I… I don’t know. I just thought that maybe. Maybe I would feel better to have someone want me.”
“But you didn’t.”
“No. He came in the room. He kissed me and his hands were on me and it felt wrong. I just. I couldn’t do it so I told him to stop. He did. I left.”
“Sam,” he said, breathing heavily.
“Yeah?”
“Lose the towel.”
I acted without thinking. I pulled the towel off. Dropped it away.
He was on his knees even before it hit the ground. His callused hand circled the base of my dick, and he licked the reddened tip. I groaned, my back falling against the door. There was no warning then, when he took me in his mouth, cheeks hollowed and eyes fluttering closed. He sucked down the length of my cock and my hips jerked at the slight sting of teeth, the swirl of his tongue. His nose brushed against my pubes and he held it there, my cock knocking against the back of his throat. I wasn’t big by any stretch of the imagination, but I wasn’t small either, and the fact that he took me down in one smooth go of it was almost enough to knock me on my ass.
I didn’t know what to do with my hands, and so I kept them curled in fists at my sides. That is until he grabbed my right hand as he bobbed up and down, taking it to the top of his head, curling my fingers into his hair. It was still wet and I looked down, my fingers disappearing into the locks. I watched as spit leaked out the side of his mouth, his lips stretched. His eyes opened and he looked up at me before sliding back up and off. “It’s okay,” he said. “You can. I can take it.”
“Can what?” I said roughly.