Page 60 of Skeletons in the Closet

The past had its fingers around my throat, squeezing, suffocating.

I waited, ready to back down at the faintest hint of negativity.

“Holy fuck, D.” Tallus’s pupils swelled, swallowing the hazel. “Please. Fuck yes.” He took himself in hand and guided his length to my mouth.

Most men I picked up on Spark did this kind of thing to me. I rarely returned the favor. It rarely crossed my mind. Once things with those men were good and started, they let me use them any way I wanted, which was always fast, furious, and impersonal.

I didn’t kiss. I didn’t touch. I didn’t talk.

When it was over, we parted ways. But I wasn’t inexperienced at blow jobs either. I’d given a few. The only man I’d ever tried to date had enjoyed them. The bigger issue was not knowing what to do with my hands.

I flicked my tongue over Tallus’s head, circling once before taking him down my throat. He groaned as I lavished attention with the flat of my tongue and sucked hard as I pulled off again. I repeated the action, adding spice and using my throat muscles here and there until Tallus’s breathing turned raspy.

“Holy… fuck…” he panted. “Yes… Oh shit… That’s…” He groaned instead of finishing the sentence. When I peeked, he’d thrown his head back, the long line of his neck showing a prominent Adam’s apple.

When he glanced down, I quickly avoided eye contact, refocusing on the task.

Tallus placed a hand on my head, delicately at first, likely afraid I would react. It made me stumble, but I relaxed the second he moved his fingers over my scalp. Like in the Jeep earlier, it settled something inside me. It unknotted the ball of worry in my chest. It was calming. Soothing. I never wanted him to stop.

“Fuck, D… Yes… Oh shit… Like that… God, that’s good… Holy fuck…”

I kept my hands on my thighs, clasping my pants in tight fists. Tallus guided himself in and out of my mouth, and I let him set the pace until it must not have been enough.

“Touch me, D,” he whined. “Please. You have to. I’m going crazy.”

The words threw off my rhythm. I sucked him deeper, raked my teeth gently along his length as I came up. Some guys liked that. Pain and pleasure. Some hated it.

Tallus shuddered, and his fingers dug into my scalp, drawing me closer. “Shiiit. Fuck me… Holy… Diem…”

I did it again, and he thrust encouragingly faster and harder.

“Christ… D, fucking touch me already.”

I was failing. I needed to get my shit together. I tried to release the hold on my thighs but only managed to let go for a second, still unsure where I should put my hands. Touch him how? Where?

Tallus released my head, and his fingers traveled over my shoulder and down my arm an inch or so. “Give me your hand.”

You’re a moron. A no-good fucking moron.

Regret consumed me.

You’re a failure.

“D,” he whined. “Your hand. Please.”

I couldn’t think and suck cock at the same time. Everything was falling apart. I pulled off and peered up, expecting anger or frustration. I saw neither.

Beyond Tallus’s flushed cheeks and ragged breathing was patience. Understanding, but that couldn’t be right. “Hand, Guns. Give me your hand. Trust me.”

I gave him my hand. He waved for the other. I gave him it too.

He placed them on his thighs, securing his own hands on top so I couldn’t pull away. His skin was hot to the touch. Invigorating.

“Get to work. Let me enjoy your mouth a little longer, then you can fuck me however you want.”

My cock ached and swelled at the suggestion.

It was a heady rush to feel his bare skin under my palms. I stared at his length, licked my lips, absorbed his lingering flavor on my tongue, and resumed.

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