Worship (On My Knees Duet 1)

“Aghh.”

“You like that?” The words are hums that prompt a guttural groan from him. And then I feel him swell. He’s moaning like he’s close to losing it, his hand gripping the back of my neck.

I inhale through my nose and move my head back and forth, sucking and then pressing my lips snugly around him, flicking my tongue around his tip until his hands are yanking my hair and he’s moaning like he’s in pain.

“Oh God…fuck.”

I rub my tongue into his soft slit, and I think I taste him. Oh God, I’m close, too. I roll his balls as my own throb, and he starts thrusting. Even though it hurts—tears stream from my eyes—I imagine his mouth sucking me, too, and I’m worried I might come before he does.

That thought makes me groan, which makes my mouth vibrate around him. Vance barks out a sound of pain—although I know it’s pleasure.

Then he tries to pull away. I swallow him back down.

“Fuckkk.”

He wraps my head against his hips. Then his cock swells sharply, and I’m sucking as he blows down my throat. When I’ve taken everything, I ease him to the floor, flicking my tongue around the rim of his head before I lift my face and find his mouth open in wonder.

“Holy shit.” He pulls me up against him, ravaging my mouth, speaking between the mash of our lips. “That was goddamn magic.”

His palm cups my balls, and I’m panting like a dog, it feels so good.

“That’s right. That got you good and ready, didn’t it? It does me, too.”

While he teases my balls, his other hand caresses my slick cockhead, stroking the moisture firmly up and down my shaft. I can’t help groaning. Grunting.

“Fuck…”

“That’s right. I know how to play this big dick.” His thumb tweaks something atop the tip of me that makes me jump. “You’re wet.” I feel him paint the slick precum along my rim. I lock my jaw, trying to swallow a moan. “One of my favorite things—when a big, strong man like you leaks for me.”

I can’t find words, can only groan.

He growls softly in reply, and I can feel it in him: something snaps. He leans over, face-planting in my lap. He strokes my thighs and licks my sac and laves my cock with his tongue. My palm rubs his hair, my fingers shaking too much to even tug the locks as he sucks my cock into his mouth, swallowing with expertise until I’m lodged inside the velvet warmth of his throat.

He sucks like a machine. He blows me like an assault. I’m on my back as my hips thrust and my spread legs tremble. Wrapped in his tongue, sucked into the thrall of his hot mouth, I can’t quiet the desperate moans that escape my throat.

“Oh God…” Stop. But he takes me deeper, and I thrust twice—hard—before realizing what I’m doing.

“Shit. Ahhh…AGHHHH.” Like a felled animal, I writhe away from him. His mouth sucks harder as his calloused hands squeeze my hips. And all at once, I blow.

No warning.

Vance Rayne swallows slow and steady. My eyes open to find his warm gaze on my face, and after that, I can’t stop watching. His mouth releases me just when it starts to feel too much, and he looks like he’s been through it. His lips are swollen, the skin around his mouth red. I stroke the redness, laughing from adrenaline.

He leans forward to nip at my chin and press his soft, firm lips against my cheek. “That was amazing,” he rasps.

“Thank you.” I try to swallow, but suddenly my throat feels thick and tight. My eyes are hot.

He leans back on his haunches, revealing he’s hard again. He smiles, palming himself. My stomach slow rolls as my own cock twitches. Then he’s leaning back over to me.

His lips brush my temple. “You smell good.”

He moves into a crouch, and I watch as he puts his clothes on. He hands me mine, stroking a fingertip over my abs before he stands.

“Let’s have some of that skull-splitting scotch of yours, yeah?”

I put my underwear and pants back on. I get the bottle, and we walk onto the deck.ThreeVance

The moon has gone behind the clouds, so when we step outside, it’s darker, cooler than it was before. He walks ahead of me, the bottle swinging from his fingers as he leads us to the vinyl-covered benches near the back of the boat.

He sits at the end of one. I eye the bench across from it, but I don’t want the space between us. I sit on his bench, a few feet down, giving him some breathing room. His chest is pumping sort of fast. His hand fists the bottle’s neck. His gaze meets mine for half a second, but he’s quiet…wide-eyed.

“You okay, my man?” His jaw is hard as his hand covers his eyes. I let a moment pass. “You scared of gay stuff?”