Page 31 of The One Decent Thing

“Okay,” Aidan said simply, and flopped back down.

A second later he reached up over his head and held on with both hands, his fingers wrapped around the decorative slats in the oak headboard.

“Oh, oh God,” I whispered. Because —fuck, the picture he made like that. With his triceps flexed and his shoulders bulging, and those bedroom eyes, and his jeans still undone with his huge cock poking out, and all of him laid out at my mercy. He looked like a photo shoot — the kind of photo shoot I’d jerk off to, helplessly, in the middle of the night.

He didn’t look like something that belonged lounging across my goofy rainbow quilt, right here in my quiet bedroom that never saw any action.

When I was comfortable with a guy, I didn’t like him passive — at all. The opposite.

But before I got there, and that had only happened with my first boyfriend, I needed space, and time, and care. That wasn’t something men gave me.

That Aidan would give me this — this perfect, quiet acceptance of what I needed — was too much, all of a sudden. Tears stung my eyes, and I bent down again to hide them. Tugging at his jeans and boxers revealed a few more inches of that mouthwatering cock, and I licked at it, teasing myself as much as him. His low moans and whispered encouragement spurred me on, and I sucked the head into my mouth with a pop.

God, he smelled and tasted and felt so good. I loved the stretch of my lips and the heaviness on my tongue, the challenge of maneuvering inside my own mouth to wrap my tongue around and play with him.

“Sebastian,” he breathed out, and I dared to look up. His hands were clenched so hard around the slats that his knuckles were white, and those arms, oh my God, those arms.

My own cock throbbed and ached, and I moaned around my mouthful. I felt his body tense under mine — but his hips stayed perfectly still. I rewarded him by taking him deeper, as deep as I could without choking.

“Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck,” Aidan chanted. “Fuck. Sebastian, I’m close, I’m so close…”

So was I, hearing him moaning my name like that while his thick shaft dragged over my tongue and through my swollen lips, the ridge of the glans rubbing against the roof of my mouth.

With regret, I pulled off and took over with my hand, jerking him fast and hard.

His back arched, his eyelids fluttered shut, and he let out a long, desperate groan that had me palming my own dick through my pants — and he came all over my hand and his own abs.

I curled into myself, moaning, needing to comethat secondor I was going to literally die. I could use the hand he’d just come on, use that to slick my own cock and…I was fumbling with my own pants before I could stop myself, shoving them down along with my boxer-briefs.

“Jesus Christ, Sebastian,” Aidan whispered, and I froze, my cock half out of my jeans. This would definitely be too gay, crap, he’d be so grossed out… “Don’t stop, get yourself off,” he said, his eyes gleaming.

Oh, holy… It took one tug with my come-spattered hand to add to the mess, the orgasm seizing me at the base of my spine and exploding out of me like a supernova. I crouched there, my head spinning, the aftermath almost as overwhelming as the orgasm itself. The world righted itself slowly. Aidan had let go of the headboard and was propped on his elbows, staring at me, his eyes fixed on where I still gripped my spent dick.

“I should get cleaned up,” I managed, the words coming out thick and heavy, like my mouth hadn’t remembered yet how to do anything besides give a blow job.

“Me too.” Aidan’s eyes flicked away, and he rolled off the bed, extricating his legs from around me in one smooth motion. “Thanks. Thank you. Are you — you’re okay, right?” He sounded hurried, like he was too much of a gentleman to run away without checking on me, but he’d rather be anywhere else but where he was.

“I’m fine.” It was probably true. Honestly, I had no idea if I was okay or not. The orgasm high was still messing with my brain, a buzzing hum that drowned out anything like logic, or even the physical state of my body.

By the time I got the courage to look up at his face, he’d already booked it out of the room, his footsteps retreating quickly down the hall. His bedroom door shut behind him, and I slumped down onto the bed. Cleaning up could wait a second.

Oh, God. What the hell had I gotten myself into now? That could wait too. I closed my eyes and gave myself permission to drift a little.

Aidan

Running away and hiding in my own room was probably the opposite of what I was supposed to do after getting the best blow job of my life, but there was nothing else for it.

Actually, there were a lot of other options, but all of them had ‘Danger!’ written all over them in huge block letters. Red letters. Like the kind of sign you’d put on a velociraptor cage. The problem was, I wouldn’t have had trouble keeping my distance from a velociraptor. I wouldn’t have wanted to pull it into my arms, kiss it, stroke its back, and hope that it nuzzled into my neck and whispered my name.

Post-orgasm clarity was such a bitch. Usually it was of theOh, shit, what was I thinkingvariety. Hormones could make even the worst ideas seem brilliant. Like the time I got off to furry porn and spent the next two weeks trying to scrub the memory from my brain in any way I could. I mean, different strokes. But it was way, way outside of anything I would’ve wanted to see if I hadn’t been really hard up, drunk, and depressed.

Or the time I slept with a girl who’d already broken up with me, after she cheated on me twice, and then remembered what a horrible person she was ten seconds after I got off.

Or that time in prison. That had been a bitch and a half.

This was the opposite, and it was worse. The second I came all over Sebastian’s hand, following the indescribably amazing wet heat and motion of his mouth, I knew I wanted to do it again. Immediately, and if that wasn’t physically possible, then as soon as I’d gotten a glass of water and taken a piss.

I’d kind of expected to freak out about it being a dude, or it being Sebastian, the second the endorphins hit me. Instead I’d freaked out about it being a dude, and it being Sebastian, and how much I wanted to drag him up the bed and make out until we could go again.

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