Page 89 of Bi-Partisan

“God, look at you, so good for me,” I murmur, cupping his cheek. “So pretty on your knees for me.”

He whimpers, turning his face into my hand a little.

“Do you like being good for me, Jamie?”

He kisses my palm. “Yes.”

“Yes…?” I prompt, wanting to see if he’ll say it himself.

“Yes, I like being good for you. Let me be good.” His voice has a desperate edge as he slides his hands further up my thighs, as though wanting to go for the fly of my jeans.

My breath leaves in a rush. Fuck me, he’s going to kill me one of these days.

“Hands in your lap,” I instruct, and he gives me a confused, almost wounded look that immediately has me softening. “I want you to only use your mouth.”

He relaxes again and gives my thighs a quick squeeze before clasping his hands in front of him. I quickly undo my jeans and shimmy them down my hips just enough to give him access, then cradle his head with both hands to guide him forward. His tongue darts out to wet his lips as he stares at my cock, then his eyes lift to mine.

“Still good?” I ask.

He nods. “Great, darlin’.”

“Then be a good boy and show me what that mouth can do.”

Without hesitation, he takes me in his mouth, swallowing down as much of me as he can in one go. His tongue swirls around me, and I barely stop myself from immediately bucking up into the wet heat. He’s gotten exponentially better at this over the past few months. Actually, that’s selling him short. It was always good—even the night of our one night stand. So good that I still struggle to believe that it was the first time he’d given a blow job. Now, he’s amazing, knows exactly how to make me fall apart within minutes. He’s still new at it, though, and I don’t want to make him choke.

He surprises me, though, moaning around my cock at the strained thrust of my hips.

“Do you like that?” I ask, a little hesitant.

He moans again, this time hollowing his cheeks.

“Do you want me to fuck your mouth?”

He nods, then seems to remember my verbal response rule and pulls off.

I can’t help tensing at the sudden loss of heat.

“Yes,” he says.

“Rest your hand on my calf.”

He gives me a quizzical look, which makes sense since I told him I didn’t want him using his hands. Since his mouth will be otherwise occupied, we’ll need a way for him to communicate if he needs a break. Despite the question in his eyes, he complies, wrapping a hand around my leg.

“If you need me to stop, squeeze twice, understand?”

He squeezes twice in quick succession. “Like that?”

I nod. “Just like that. Are you ready?”

He smiles softly, squeezing my calf once, which I take to mean yes.

I waste no time guiding him back onto my dick. I keep my thrusts shallow at first, testing the waters so I don’t hurt him or cross any of his boundaries. But after a few seconds, I feel him give my calf a single slow squeeze, as if to encourage me to keep going. I speed the snap of my hips, earning a low moan. I watch his eyes flutter shut as I keep moving my hips, fucking up into his mouth as I chase my rapidly building orgasm.

He continues to moan around me, and the vibrations push me closer and closer to the edge. Through my lust haze, I see his shoulder start to move—like he’s jerking himself off to me fucking his face—and it makes me snap. I come with a curse, bucking my hips one last time as I spill into his mouth. He takes over and works me through it, swallowing the best he can.

Once I’ve gotten hold of my senses enough, I fist his hair and pull him off me. He stares up at me, his face utterly wrecked, his arm still moving.

“I thought I told you no hands.” Technically, I said I only wanted him to use his mouth, which implied that was only for me. But I’m interested in seeing what he does—if he talks back or simply stops.

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