Page 31 of Wild Fixation
Then he tosses the apron over himself, ducking under it. A second later I’m gripping the counter beside me as the heat of his mouth envelopes me. I nearly choke, the spatula clattering to the floor as Jacob ruthlessly sinks down me all the way to the root. He hums at himself as he goes, his voice shivering down my dick. Jacob flicks his tongue out, licking along my shaft, swirling around the head, then plunging straight back down.
It happens so fast I nearly lose my balance. I squeeze my eyes shut and clench my teeth, fighting to stay upright. The hand not clinging to the edge of the counter reaches for the spot where Jacob’s head pushes out the apron. I steady myself against him, wishing I had the wherewithal to get under the stupid fabric and clutch his soft waves of hair.
Suddenly, Jacob pops off me. The shift almost sends me to my knees. He flips aside the apron to peer up at me.
“Can I swallow you?” he says.
My knees damn near buckle.
Some functional part of my brain understands that this is a practical request, but most of me is caught in the flash fire of desire the question ignites. I have to gather myself before I can answer.
“Yeah,” I say, a rough rasp. “Yeah, I’m good. Tested and all that.”
Jacob’s smile stretches, eyes impossibly brighter. “Good.”
Then he dives back down, and this time I can get a hand in his hair, so that’s exactly what I do. I cling to him, and he whimpers, that beautiful voice that’s attracted the whole world shivering through me. Just me. The music pouring from his throat isn’t for anyone else right now, and that’s almost as dizzying as what his mouth is doing to me.
He takes me deep, then swallows around me, just as promised, and a noise snakes out of my throat that I barely recognize. Fuck, what is this man doing to me? Wasn’t I just thinking about how I need to reset the boundaries between us? Now he’s on his knees in my kitchen, and I’m about to blow down his throat.
“Jacob,” I groan in warning.
He doesn’t budge, bobbing determinedly along my cock, taking me deep, swallowing again and again until my hand is strangling his hair and some low rumble of pleasure is rolling out of me and I’m bursting uncontrollably down his perfect throat. I sag, clinging to the counter, to him, until the fury passes and I can creak my eyes open.
He’s on his knees watching me. Jacob wipes at his mouth, his hazel eyes wide and framed in dark lashes when he’s looking up at me like this. Warmth darkens his cheeks. His hair stands askew from my tugging.
I can’t bear it for another second.
He squeaks when I suddenly yank my sweats up, then bend to scoop him up off the floor. His arms go around my neck and his legs hook around my waist, just like they did last night.
“The French toast,” he says.
Smoke steams off the burning toast. I flick the oven off and shove the pan onto an unused burner, but that’s all the time I have for caring about toast. I carry Jacob to the kitchen table, swiping mail off it as I throw him atop it. Then I yank his briefs down and get him in my mouth.
He shudders and sighs, grabbing for my hair. The prickle of his pulling urges me on. I take him fast, hard, deep, plunging down him until his wiry hairs are in my nose. The taste merely lingered under my tongue this morning when I brushed my teeth, but now it’s everywhere. Now it’s my every breath.
Jacob’s legs dangle off the table, but he raises them suddenly, hooking his ankles behind me like he’s trying to yank me in closer. I dive as deep as I can, only pulling off when I suck him all the way to the tip.
“Yes?” I say. It’s all the breath I can spare for the question.
“Yes,” he gasps. “Fuck yes.”
I throw myself onto his cock. He tugs my hair hard enough that my eyes water and bucks his hips at me. I can taste his pleasure building, warm and salty on my tongue, and anticipation tightens my gut. Satiated though I am, I burn anew at this glimpse of his pleasure. He cries out loud enough to wake the damn neighbors, or at least it feels that way with his voice ringing in my ears. It’s a voice that normally fills stadiums, but today it sings through my crappy little kitchen, even more beautiful than when it’s amplified for the amusement of thousands of screaming fans.
“I’m gonna—” he cries. “Oh, fuck. Seth!”
He spills as he cries my name, and I’m nearly as delirious as him. The sound chimes in my ears as his hot seed slides down my throat. I groan as though I’m the one lying on that table, closing my eyes as I swallow him.
When I open them, he’s staring at me, panting, flushed, sprawled out. I’ve never seen anything so beautiful in my life.
“Fuck, what a morning,” he says with a breathy laugh.
I help him sit up, but he uses the straps of the apron to pull me down and kiss me. I can taste myself in his mouth, and he can likely taste himself in mine. The musk mingles together until it’s all one thing, one taste belonging to one being, the tremulous, terrifying possibility of an “us” that can never be.
“God, I wish I didn’t have to go to practice today,” he says against my lips.
He clings to the apron like it will hold us both in this moment, spare us from the outside world, but as the fever cools, reality rushes in, icy as mountain runoff. We shouldn’t have done this. We shouldn’t have done it once, let alone twice. Jacob kisses me indulgently, lips mapping my mouth, before finally pulling away with a sigh. When he gazes up at me, a spark of worry creeps into those hazel eyes of his.
“We’ll do this again,” he says.
