Page 11 of Sweet

“Yes, I do.” His insistence leaves no room for doubt. “Show me.”

And even harder now. No. This never happens to me. Well, notnever ever,more like not this way, not so easily, not so suddenly. Fuck. I may as well use this to my advantage. I take a breath and shove my tight black underwear down my hips. Not all the way. Enough for a peek, though this will very likely come across as intentional. But that’s exactly what I want this time.

He must be patiently awaiting a response because I don’t even have to say anything after snapping a quick shot and sending it over. The change in his breathing tells me exactly when he gets it. “Fuck, that’s hot.”

Now I have no doubt he’s jerking off. And right about this time, I’m usually doing something more interesting while making a show of breathing heavily and parroting whatever the other person is saying. Most people enjoy phone sex by imagining the other person: what they’re doing over there, or even better, that they’re here and doing it themselves. This also happens to be what I don’t like about phone sex. I tell myself I lack imagination, but really, so much of it doesn’t inherently appeal to me. Can’t get into phone sex. Until tonight, apparently.

“Touch your cock for me.” And he says this without even a “please” tacked on as an afterthought.

“For you, huh?” Maybe I sound annoyed, but I’m already whipping mine out.

“I’m not there to do it myself.” He sighs on his end. “You have to do it for me, so I can hear you.”

I don’t even have to exaggerate my gasping because I am so turned on right now. Maybe more than I’ve ever been. After a few slow strokes, I’m leaking and I take a minute to play with my balls while I listen to the pleasured breaths coming through the phone.

“Do you have anything to fuck yourself with?”

I’m about to tell him no when I realize I do. I’ll have to open multiple drawers, and I’ll definitely have to move, but I’ve got a few toys and lube stashed in my room. Still not why I’m ready to say no. Just… no.

“I’d be prepping your tight hole by now. Do it.”

My skin shivers and what the fuck, now I actuallywantit. And if I want it, I’m doing it. He must hear me scrambling and that should be sufficient evidence I’m on the move. As soon as I’m back in the middle of the bed, I rip my underwear all the way down my legs and roll onto my side. After spreading the lube with my fingers, I dip into myself ever so slightly. When I moan a little, he lets out a satisfied hum.

“Now, let me hear you taking my cock.”

Honestly, I’m not even sure I’ve ever used this toy. If I did, I can’t remember it. I pin the phone to the side of my face with my shoulder, since I’m not wasting a hand for that right now. Then I slide the dildo in without hesitation, mostly from being more desperate than I’ve ever been, but also because I feel certain that’s how he’d do it—line up and just start fucking. And does that ever feel amazing.

More pleased humming on his end. “You’re enjoying that as much as I hoped you would, baby.”

And maybe for the first time ever, I actually am. I’m not faking the moans and sighs. At this rate, he may even get me to come. I’m doing the work, but I’ll go ahead and give him the credit—he earned it.

When my breath quickens to panting, he starts to join me. He pauses only to say, “My name’s Will.”

And he doesn’t have to tell me the rest. If this man gets me to come, you better believe I’ll scream his name while I’m doing it, if that’s what he wants. As soon as I gasp and say his name, he’s moaning in my ear. My skin prickles while I listen, intensifying the pleasure while I’m coming. As much as I want him to returnthe favor, I have to remind myself not yet. Soon, but not yet. Slowly, our breathing returns to normal.

“Willy,” I snicker when it occurs to me.

“Yes, of all the nicknames you could’ve given me, you somehow managed to pick yet another euphemism for a penis.” He laughs, and he’s right back to sweet. “I’ll call you again soon.”

“You better.”

We wish each other goodnight, then I hang up the call.

Chapter six

Will

Never bottoms, my ass—or his ass, I guess. Either way, that’s a crock of shit and I called it. Talking to Mantis on the phone for the last week has been amazing, especially our conversation last night. He’s got such a sexy voice—the low and smooth kind, but not over-exaggerated like a bad porno. Talking to him never fails to make my cock swell, but at the same time I am a very visual guy. Most of us are.

Case in point, me resting my chin on my fist while staring at Bailey working his stand while Jess not-so-subtly glares in my peripheral vision. He can judge all he wants—I did most of the unpacking while he set up the displays earlier, just so he wouldn’t complain at me for slacking later. As if gazing at the sweetest specimen in existence were somehow a waste of time. People spend hours gazing at art in museums and Bailey’s not only living and breathing art, but a literal masterpiece. My personal David, walking among us.

“For some reason, I hoped talking to Mantis more would also mean watching Bailey less,” Jesse says from somewhere behind me.

“Fuck off, Jess,” I murmur. Of course, being my best friend means Jesse gets to hear all about me pining for Mantis, too. “At least Mantis understands and doesn’t discourage me. He’s given me a lot of good ideas about starting a conversation and approaching him.”

“And how long have I been telling you to go up to him and talk to him?”

I scoff. A technicality, and the most basic advice anyone can give.

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