The Rebel (Red's Tavern 2)

I kicked off my shoes and stripped off my pants and underwear lightning fast. My cock bobbed in front of me, finally free from the jeans that had gotten uncomfortably tight as I’d filmed Red.

“God,” he said, watching me.

“What?”

“I know it’s cliche to tell a porn star he has a great penis, but… your cock is goddamned incredible,” he said, shaking his head.

“I admit, it looks all right while hard, and... I’m seriously hard right now.”

“You are,” Red said. “Now bring it here.”

I did as he said. He leaned forward and brought his hands to my ass, pulling me closer to him. And then he put his mouth around my cock, pulling me inside.

I moaned deeply as the slick heat surrounded me, and every cell in my body relaxed instantly. Red’s lips were around me for the first time in a decade. As I pushed up against him, my stomach collided with the rim of his cowboy hat and pushed it backward. It fell off, revealing his thick hair, and I dug my fingers into it as he sucked me.

“Jesus,” I said, shocked at the swift motion. Red wasn’t wasting any time, and he certainly wasn’t shy about taking what he wanted.

He was acting hungry and desperate in a way I never could have predicted. I was still wearing a T-shirt even though I was naked from the waist down, but Red didn’t seem to care. He was singularly focused on my cock, running his tongue along the ridge beneath my tip. He didn’t bother with niceties.

“It’s been so long,” I said. “So fucking long.”

He pulled off momentarily, looking up at me. “Has it?”

I nodded. “At least a month.”

He hummed, shaking his head slightly. “Then you definitely need to come on my tongue.”

He slipped his lips back over me and got back to work.

The funny thing nobody tells you about being newly sober is that it makes all sensations—orgasms, especially—about ten times more intense at first. Even just masturbating over the past month had been a shock. There was certainly no more whiskey dick in my life.

But this was the first time I’d been blown since getting sober, and the sensation was absolutely insane. I could feel every slip of his tongue, and from the moment his mouth was on me, I felt like I was two seconds away from coming.

He pulled me in even tighter and I stumbled a little between his legs. He still had his jeans and cowboy boots around his ankles. When I fell forward he caught me, pulling off my cock and looking up at me.

“Careful, there,” he said.

“Pretty sure I’m going to drop to my knees if you keep sucking me like that,” I said.

“No. I am,” he said, sliding off the loveseat until his knees were on the ground. He brought my cock back into his mouth and I laced my fingers into his hair again, still convinced my knees were going to go weak.

I knew Red had to be lust-drunk. I knew that this was likely to be the last time I ever had his mouth on me, and that ten years ago really should have been the last time.

But that was just the way Red was. He was always too caring. He had seen that I had an insistent hard-on, and he was kind enough to help me take care of it.

“You are so good to me,” I said, looking down at him. He gazed up at me as he took me in his mouth, and in the bright light, his brown eyes looked golden, flecked with amber. “Too good.”

His response was only to take me deeper into his throat.

I groaned. “I can’t hold on longer,” I said, watching him intently. “Fuck.”

I wasn’t sure if I meant I’d just needed a blow job or needed him.

My body was molten hot. It was building up inside me and I knew I couldn’t hold on much longer. As a porn star I’d always been able to hold off an orgasm for as long as I needed to, but it felt impossible now.

He grunted softly and I felt as his fingers crept backward, gently stroking against my hole. And apparently, in my ultra-sensitive state of sobriety, that was all I needed.

I babbled like an idiot. Red’s fingers stroked against my hole while he worked his mouth over me, and the fact that it teased the idea of more was enough to make my brain go haywire.

I still remembered what it felt like having him actually plunge deep inside me.

“Holy fuck,” I said, feeling the sensation pool in me and explode without warning. I let out a heavy sigh, gripping his hair in my hands.

And I let go. My breathing was heavy as I came in his mouth, my whole body shuddering. It was a fucking rush, crashing over me and… erasing me. Erasing me exactly like I’d been craving, exactly like I’d needed for so fucking long. I was gone. Reduced to pure sensation, pure trust, in that moment.