Page 42 of The Highwaymen

Almost of their own accord, my fingers drifted to his face, ghosting over the arch of his brow, the blade of his cheekbone. I half-expected him to stir at my touch, but he slept on, his breathing deep and even.

I let my fingers trail lower, tracing the strong column of his throat, the pulse beating steady and slow beneath theskin.

My fingers continued their slow exploration, trailing down Stu's neck to the broad expanse of his chest. I could feel the heat of his skin through the thin fabric of his shirt, the solid thump of his heartbeat beneath my palm. It was steady and strong, as unyielding as the man himself.

I splayed my hand over his heart, marveling at the sheer size of him. He was so big, so solid. I felt dwarfed by him. It should have made me feel trapped, caged. But instead there was safety in his bulk, a steadfast strength that called to something deep inside me.

Slowly, daringly, I slid my hand lower, fingers grazing over his flat stomach. The muscles tensed and jumped at my touch, even in sleep. I felt a thrill rush through me, heady and electric. I had never touched him like this before, with such bold intimacy. It felt illicit, forbidden. Thrilling.

I let my hand drift even lower, to the waistband of his jeans. I hooked my fingers under the edge, feeling the warmth of his skin, the wiry hair that disappeared beneath the denim. I wanted to follow that trail with my fingers, my lips, my tongue. I wanted to taste him, all of him.

A sudden, fierce hunger clawed at my gut. The urge to take, to claim, to possess. It was a feeling I was well acquainted with, but never like this.

My fingers trembled as they lingered at the waistband of Stu's jeans. I wanted so badly to slip my hand inside, to wrap my fingers around the hot, hard length of him. To feel him pulse and throb in my grip as I stroked him to full hardness.

I imagined the sounds he would make, the way his breath would catch and his hips would jerk. The salty musk of his arousal, the slick slide of skin on skin. I wanted to watch his face as I brought him to the brink, see his icy eyes glaze over with pleasure.

The image was so vivid, so visceral, that I could almost taste him on my tongue, feel the heavy weight of him stretching my lips. My mouth watered with want, a needy whimper building at the back of my throat.

I palmed him through his jeans, feeling the thick shape of him, hot and heavy even through the denim. He twitched against my hand, his hips shifting restlessly. A soft groan rumbled through his chest, but he didn’t wake. If there was one thing I’d learned about Stu, it was that he was a heavy sleeper.

Slowly, I dragged down his zipper, tooth by agonizing tooth. The rasp of it was shockingly loud in the quiet room. Cool air hit my knuckles as I parted the denim, then the smooth heat of his skin as I slipped my hand inside.

He was naked beneath, his cock jutting thick and heavy into my palm. My fingers curled around Stu's length. He was already semi-hard, his cock twitching and swelling rapidly as I stroked him. The velvet-soft skin stretched taut over iron hardness, the thick vein on the underside throbbing against my fingers.

I squeezed him gently, savoring the weight and heat of him. He was so big, so thick. I could barely get my hand around him. The thought of taking him inside me, of being stretched and filled and claimed by this man, made me dizzy with want.

Slowly, I worked my hand up and down his shaft, my thumb swirling over the broad head on every upstroke. Drops of pre-cum beaded at the tip and I spread the slickness down his length, making my strokes smoother.

Stu groaned in his sleep, his hips rocking slightly into my touch. Encouraged, I tightened my grip, pumping him faster. His cock jerked in my hand, growing impossibly harder. The skin drew back from the fat, flushed head, shiny and swollen with arousal.

I stared at it hungrily, my mouth watering. I wanted to taste him so badly, to feel the weight of him on my tongue. Before I could second-guess myself, I ducked my head and licked a broad stripe up the underside of his cock.

“Jamie,” he groaned, and I lifted my head, thinking he’d finally woken up. Instead, he was moaning my name in his sleep.

My chest tightened at the sound of my name on Stu's lips, rough and gravelly with sleep and arousal. He was dreaming about me, even as I touched him. Wanting me, even in unconsciousness.

It made me feel powerful. Desired. Like I was more than just a warm mouth or a tight hole to him. Like I mattered.

I licked him again, swirling my tongue around the swollen head of his cock. He tasted musky and male, salt and skin and something uniquely Stu. I lapped at the slit, savoring the bitter tang of pre-cum on my tongue.

Stu's hips bucked, seeking more of my mouth. I obliged him, sealing my lips around the tip and sucking gently. He groaned, low and deep, the sound vibrating through me. I took him deeper, relaxing my throat to let him slide into the tight, wet clutch of it. Above me, Stu shuddered, a ragged groan tearing from his chest, but his eyes remained closed, his face relaxed and serene.

I took my time worshipping Stu's cock with my mouth, savoring every inch of his thick length. I licked and kissed and sucked, exploring every ridge and vein with my tongue. I traced the flared edge of his cockhead, dipping into the weeping slit to lap up his essence. He tasted intoxicating, addictive, and I couldn't get enough.

I varied my technique, alternating long, slow licks from root to tip with quick, fluttering flicks of my tongue against the sensitive underside. I sealed my lips around him and sucked gently, hollowing my cheeks to increase the suction. Then I relaxed my jaw and took himdeep, swallowing around his thickness until he nudged the back of my throat.

Through it all, Stu slept on, lost in dreams even as his body responded eagerly. His cock pulsed and throbbed against my tongue, leaking steadily now, the slick fluid easing the glide of my lips. His hips twitched and rolled slightly, instinctively seeking more of my mouth's wet heat. Soft moans and grunts of pleasure rumbled in his chest, my name a reverent litany on his lips.

“Jamie...fuck...so good...”

Hearing Stu lost in erotic dreams of me inflamed my own desire to a fever pitch. My cock ached between my legs, hard and dripping, smearing pre-cum against the sheets.

I lost myself in the taste and feel of Stu, my world narrowing to the hot, hard flesh sliding between my lips. Time seemed to stretch and distort, minutes bleeding into hours as I lavished his cock with attention. There was no urgency to my movements, just a slow, sensual exploration as I mapped every inch of him with my mouth.

Occasionally, Stu would stir restlessly, his breathing turning rougher, his hips rolling up to seek more friction. Whenever he verged on waking, I gentled my caresses, slowing my pace until he settled back into deeper slumber. I wanted to draw this out, to make it last, this hushed gray space where I could worship him so intimately without his walls and reservations.

As the shadows lengthened and shifted across the room, I lost myself in cataloging every nuance of Stu's reactions, learning his body as I'd always yearned to. I memorized the salt-musk taste of his pre-cum, the way his cock jumped when I fluttered my tongue just under the head.

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