Page 48 of Key Change

The worn fabric clung to Cillian’s dick, his thighs, his ass. The fabric was so well worn it was a miracle they weren’t see through. Given the way Cillian knelt on the floor, licking his length, Anthony wondered if this might be how the knees of the pajamas had become so thin.

Cillian was beautiful to watch. A lock of blond hair had fallen over his forehead, and he appeared to be in no rush, like he could keep this teasing going until the movie ended. Cillian took him deep and drew back slowly, making his balls tighten. Then the wet heat was gone.

Anthony groaned. “Teasing is much more fun when I’m doing it to you.”

Cillian grinned at him and blew over the wet crown. “You can give it but not take it?”

“Yeah…” A request formed on the tip of his tongue.

Cillian held his gaze as he tongued the slit like he wanted Anthony to come on his tongue. Another time, maybe.

Anthony wrapped his hands around Cillian’s biceps and pulled him up.

Cillian didn’t resist, straddling Anthony’s thighs. “And now what?”

About a hundred different thoughts went through his head in one second. Or was it only three? They all ended the same way. He gentled his grip. “Honestly? I’ve been thinking about…” He licked his lower lip.

Cillian lifted an eyebrow as his fingertip ghosted over Anthony’s shaft.

“Taking it,” he finished rather lamely.

Cillian frowned for a moment. “Oh…”

“I know you said…” Anthony glanced away. He should’ve let Cillian keep torturing him. “I don’t know what I’m saying.”

“That you want to re-explore your wants because it’s been so long?” Cillian leaned forward and kissed him. The heat of his pajama-covered erection rubbed against Anthony’s aching cock.

He bit back a groan and resisted the urge to tug the pants over Cillian’s hips and grab both their dicks. “I don’t want to push. And this is…”

“New?” Cillian asked, rolling his hips as if determined to keep the slow torture going.

When Anthony had agreed to let Cillian turn the tables, he’d envisioned a sixty-nine on the sofa. He cupped Cillian’s jaw, his thumb smoothing over the stubble on his cheek. “It’s not hooking up anymore, is it? But I am so out of the scene I might be wrong.”

He wasn’t ready to admit that he really liked Cillian. That his heart jumped when he texted. That he wanted to touch him and see him smile.

“You’re right. It’s not. I want to call this—what we’re doing—experimenting, for both of us. I haven’t dated for a while. I haven’t had a long-term relationship, because I was bored with the men I’d been with, and it was easy to blame being busy.”

“What does experimenting mean?”

“That I’m too scared to call this thing between us dating?” Cillian gave him a small smile.

Anthony laughed. “I like you, and I don’t want to fuck this up… though I realize without a job?—”

Cillian put his finger on Anthony’s lips. “No job is worth selling your soul for. Trust me.”

“You didn’t sell your soul.”

“My ass.”

“Or that. He wasn’t the only judge. You’re talented and hardworking, and my brother is a prick who feeds on other people’s distress.”

Cillian rocked back and stared at him. “How did you turn out so normal?”

“I didn’t. I got hooked on cocaine and money. And I regret getting caught more than I regret the crimes.” That was something he needed to work through. He should feel bad, but it wasn’t as though he’d killed anyone. “And I miss my friends. The luxury cars, and apartment?—”

“If you want luxury, don’t date an artist.”

“I thought we aren’t dating?”

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