Page 83 of Without You

“Fuck,” he breathes out. “Do that again.”

Knowing I could never deny him his request, I repeatedly slide my tongue over the top of him, a new drop of pre-come forming, ready for me to collect, after every swipe.

When I feel fingers press into my scalp, I go in for the kill and cover his whole length with my mouth.

He reactively thrusts, hitting the back of my throat. I momentarily gag and he tries to pull out.

“Shit. Sorry,” he says huskily.

Grabbing his ass cheeks, I stop him from moving back and urge him to push farther into my mouth. It only takes a few seconds for his hands to find their way back into my hair, guiding me, just the way he likes it.

I greedily suck on him. Hungry for him. Hungry for this,with him.

When my hand cradles his balls, unintelligible words fill the room and his grip on my hair tightens. I continue to roll them in my palms while bobbing up and down his length.

“Fuck, you’re really good at that,” he says, his hips now pistoning in my mouth.

My dick aches for attention, getting harder with every sound he makes. Every thrust of his enjoyment goes straight down into my own heavy balls.

“Tell me you want me to blow down your fucking throat,” he says, his voice like gravel. “Because if you’re not into that, you need to get off. Like five seconds ago.”

I fist the base of him, stroking his hot skin, jacking him off while keeping his crown enveloped in my eager mouth.

As if his body is warning me, he thickens against my tongue, and I feel him begin to tremble beneath his skin.

“Oh fuck,” he shouts, as the first spurt of salty liquid drenches my tongue. “Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck.”

I feel his whole body sag against the front door, his hold on my hair loosening as he continues to empty himself inside my mouth.

Looking up at him, I lick up the remnants of his release from the head of his dick, enjoying the way his body shudders with every soft, lingering swipe of my tongue.

He’s watching me with lazy, sated eyes, half-naked, with his pants almost near his ankles, and his dick spent.

I did that.

My lust-filled pulse continues to ratchet underneath my skin, and my dick relentlessly throbs for this man before me. I lower my hand to my stiff cock, but a commanding voice stops me.

“Don’t fucking touch what’s mine.”

19

Deacon

Julian stills, his hooded eyes staring back at me, his hand resting on his junk. He looks fucking delectable on his knees for me, more than I thought possible for another man.

Haphazardly, I pull my underwear and pants back up my legs and then extend a hand out for Julian to take.

Helping him rise, I wait till we come face-to-face before taking his chin in my hand and bringing his mouth to mine.

I dip my tongue between his lips a few times. “How do I taste?”

“You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?” he says in between kisses.

“Who said anything about killing?” I cup my hand around his hard cock. “I’m just trying to return the favor.”

Deftly, I unbutton his jeans and waste no time sticking my hand between his skin and his waistband. When my fingers circle his length, he closes his eyes in delicious anguish, and I relish the unfamiliarity.

I’ve only ever felt my own dick, so this is definitely new, but the one thing that has my heart pounding inside my chest is that it doesn’t feel wrong.

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