I swallowed him down more than once as his thick come coated my mouth, my own release all over my hand.
“Christ…I think I’m going to die. You have no idea. That was so hot.”
I twisted my tongue around his glans again. “My favorite part of giving head is the reward I get at the end. I can’t believe you didn’t think I wanted to swallow down the load I worked so hard for.”
He gave me my favorite bashful look again, his eyes darting away, a smile on his lips.
And then he shocked the shit out of me by kneeling down, grabbing my hand, and licking my come from my fingers. “Fuck, I am in so much trouble with you.”
Understatement of the goddamned century.
Chapter Seventeen
Anson
I knelt awkwardly, my dick still hanging out. I had just eaten a guy’s come off his fingers. That was new. I’d thought that once we started, I would be more nervous or freaked out, but I hadn’t been. Somewhere along the line, instinct had taken over. Sure, I was inexperienced, but it had just been…right. As if everything inside me had settled into place on a quiet finally.
Not because it was Weston, of course, but because he was a man, and I was gay, and Christ, how could I have gone so long without this? How would I go back to not having it?
I fell back against the door, my bare ass hitting the kitchen floor, which I could have done without.
West stared at me, his expressive eyes searching; for what, I didn’t know, but they were definitely hunting for some kind of answer. “Too much?”
“No.”
“Are you okay?”
I lifted my hand and brushed my thumb over the stubble on his cheek. He leaned into the touch, and I wasn’t sure he realized he had. There was something very tender about the movement and the way his features had gone soft when he relaxed against my palm. “Yes,” I replied just as my stomach let out a loud, deep growl.
A laugh started low inside me, and I let it out with an odd sort of joy I couldn’t remember ever feeling before. West laughed too, the sound smoother than my huskier tone. The two of us sat on the floor, naked from the waist down, just cracking up. I’d never been so glad I’d gone to have dinner at a random hotel bar in my life. It had led me to this moment with him.
“So, I guess I should feed you.” West stood, pulled up his underwear and jeans, and tucked himself away. He didn’t button or zip them, though.
“I haven’t eaten since lunch yesterday,” I admitted as I stood and tugged my clothes up too. I wasn’t really sticky with come because he’d sucked it all down and then licked it off my shaft afterward.
“First, whatever you just thought about must have been good. By the look of bliss that washed over your face, I’m assuming you were thinking about me.”
“No, I was thinking about food.”
“Lying bastard,” he tossed back, walking to the sink and washing his hands.
It had been worth a try. The last thing he needed was more ammunition for his huge ego, though I was beginning to think that was a bit of a facade. “What was the second thing?” I asked.
“I don’t remember—oh wait, that I didn’t have dinner last night either. I was nervous too.”
“What?” I mock fainted. “The great Senator Weston Calloway was nervous to spend time with me? Don’t you do this kind of thing all the time?” I meant it to be playful, so I was surprised by both his wince and the jealousy that burned through me, maybe not just because he would be my only, but because others got to touch him.
He recovered quickly. “This is a lot of pressure! I’m your first man. All your future male experiences will be compared to your first, and I just… I hate that none of them will live up to me. That’s going to be hard on you.”
I moved in beside him, stuck my hand under the faucet, and flicked water at him. “You’re not that good, and you forget there won’t be other men.” I said it lightly, but as soon as the words left my mouth, sadness swept through me, a storm that drowned me instantly.
“I refuse to believe that. It’s a tragedy, and I won’t have tragedies on my watch.”
I didn’t remind him that I wouldn’t be on his watch after today. Would we even keep talking? I might not be able to handle that. When we parted ways, I wasn’t sure I could ever talk to West again, and that just tugged me deeper into the ocean of pain.
“Scoot over.” I nudged my hip against his, trying to forget everything except enjoying our time. “I need to wash my hands too.”