Page 63 of Zero Pucks

Pressing my hands into the mattress, I did. He got them over my ass, then hesitated as his touch came down along the top part of my thighs. The skin there was rough—wrinkled in parts, stretched too tight in others.

The accident had been a jagged mess of twisted metal that cut through my skin unevenly. My femurs had shattered, and the muscles had ripped.

There was no making that look pretty, and then the wounds had gotten infected, so doctors had carved riverbeds into what unmarred skin was left in order to save me.

His thumbs caressed a couple of patches of unscarred leg as he looked at me. “Too much?”

“Not enough. I need your mouth, and while sucking me through my boxers might be hot for a minute…”

“Not my thing,” he said, wrinkling his nose.

I laughed, but it quickly turned into a moan as he tugged the fabric all the way off. It snagged on my dick, making it slap down against my stomach, and before I could register what was happening, he had his hand around it.

“I’m not the, ah…the best at this,” he said.

Was that another lie fed to him by his insecure ex?

“But you can tell me what you like. I’m really good at following directions.”

Oh fuck. My entire body went hot, and I found myself nodding almost frantically as he pressed his palms to the insides of my thighs.

“This okay?”

“More than okay. You can touch me. I love the way you feel,” I babbled.

He gently pressed, spreading my residual limbs wide, exposing me fully. His gaze was like a physical weight, pressing down gently as he drank me in from navel to balls. I felt them twitch, and he smiled before reaching out to cup them in his hand.

“Yes?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” I said.

He leaned down, nosing my sac, then parted his lips and kissed each one. Christ, no one had ever taken time on me like this. Not before my accident and not after. I was not a man who had ever inspired anything besides a quick, dirty fuck.

“You’d better get your mouth on me, or I’m going to explode. It’s been so fucking long. So long,” I groaned.

He looked up at me as he lifted up onto his elbows, then curled a hand around my cock and pressed the tip to his lips. He kissed, a long, sucking thing with a little tongue dipping into my slit. I grunted, my hips fucking forward.

“Sorry, sorry,” I said, palming his cheek.

He shook his head, then fit his mouth around the head of my cock and met my gaze again. With a good, hard suck, he sank down, and my vision whited out. It was terrifying, losing what little sight I had left in my remaining eye, but it was quickly eclipsed by just how fucking good Amedeo made me feel.

Sparks erupted under my skin, heat settling in my chest as I began a slow pump forward. He hummed, encouraging me on, relaxing his jaw, taking me as far as he could go. It was nearly all the way, and the little space left me held with his hand, squeezing in the same rhythm as I was fucking his face.

My hands dove into his hair, letting his thick, loose locks wrap around my fingers as I tightened my grip to guide him. His groan rippled over my dick, making it kick against his tongue, and he swallowed hard.

Fuck. It was too much.

I was holding on longer than I thought I would, but I was seconds away from exploding.

“Do you want to take it? Do you want to swallow it?” I asked, my voice ragged. I looked down at him, doing my best to focus my eye on his face.

He nodded, then pulled off to lick around the head, suckle at the slit, and then he laid me against his tongue and waited.

Oh fuck. OhChrist.

I pushed my hips forward, the sliding sensation in his mouth overwhelming. It was too much. His hands dug into the fleshy part of my thighs, which were trembling and sparking with severed nerve ache, but somehow, it added to how good I felt.

My balls tightened, and my face went hot, and before I could warn him again, come shot from the tip. My dick pulsed hard in his mouth, and he kept me near the back of his throat, swallowing over and over until I was fully spent and too overwhelmed to move.

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