Page 99 of Clean Slade
I knew what each little movement of his mouth meant and how he felt as if I had inside knowledge of his soul and mind.
I knew the rhythm of his breath and how it changed every time he looked at me like I knew the back of my hand.
I knew what his life meant to him and that I’d do anything to protect its sanctity as if it were my own.
Maybe I didn’t know his past or all his secrets, and maybe I didn’t know his favorite color or birthday, but what I knew was enough.
I pulled back to breathe and look at him, but he closed his eyes.
“Don’t let me go. I…I can’t handle it yet,” he said and drew himself back to me, my embrace, my lips.
This was madness. How had we gone from zero to one hundred in an instant? But hadn’t that been what happened all that time ago? Hadn’t we gone from strangers to lovers in a matter of seconds?
If this was madness, then to hell with my sanity.
I kept him close to me, both hands covering his face, then his neck, then his chest. And he didn’t turn away from my touch. He hung on to my shirt as if letting go meant he’d fall over the edge.
“I need you, Slade. I’ve needed you for a long time,” he whispered in my ear, a plea if I ever heard one.
I didn’t answer. I just grabbed King by the back of his neck and the small of his back and pressed him to me, moving my mouth to the side of his face, to the lobe of his ear, until our jackets were off and I was tracing kisses along the middle of his chest.
Each one was a promise made and a promise delivered. Each one put out a fire and lit another.
This wasn’t quick and easy like our first time. I didn’t want it to be. I wanted it to be more. To be everything we needed.
It wasn’t long before we were down on our knees and then lying on a blanket we found on the boat on top of the rug that had carried death before. And as the cycle of life ended, it would bring life again. Because I wasn’t leaving this place until King was alive again.
The real King.
MyKing.
His fingers found solace in my hair as I moved south, leaving slick wet trails on his skin that reflected the moonlight and lit up the goosebumps underneath.
When I parted his jeans and pulled his underpants down, his curved cock jumped at me, and I wasted no time taking it into my mouth.
I hadn’t gotten the chance to fully taste him back then, but now? Now I could.
He throbbed and whimpered, but that only made my cock harder and more desperate.
He was searing hot in my mouth, burning my tongue, my throat, my insides.
He could scorch my entire being for all I cared, and I’d still say thank you in the end.
“Sla-Slade…fuck!” His fingers tightened on my curls, and my body tensed as I looked up and found his perfect, slitted brown eyes staring at me.
His mouth hung open, and he thrust his hips, driving himself deeper into my throat.
“Don’t stop,” he begged.
I chuckled to myself.
I don’t think I can even if I wanted to.
I kept going, tightening my lips and feeling the friction intensify with each brush. Despite the thrusts, he wasn’t in any hurry, and neither was I.
The more I took him in, the more he groaned until his voice was the only thing that could be heard across the sea, a thought that brought me so close to the edge that it was intoxicating.
I swallowed each of the vibrations as if they were my life force until he stopped and let out a loud moan and filled my mouth with his hot seed.
