Page 27 of Grave Misgivings
I swallow harshly, swiping my thumb across the tip, if only to remove it, but the touch only makes it worse.
My gaze fixates on Geo’s photograph, the way he’s cocked his head, showcasing his not-so-slender-anymore neck. His shoulders are thicker, his frame fuller, defined.
He gazes at me through his dark lashes, amber eyes rimmed in kohl liner.
Those perfect, pouty lips parted just enough.
My cock throbs and my hips move of their own accord, eliciting a guilty groan from my throat.
I shouldn’t fucking do this.
It’s wrong on so many levels, and I know it’s not good for me.
But it’s not like anyone is going to suddenly walk in on me and find me like this.
I’m a single man who lives alone.
Maybe just this once. For old time’s sake.
My gaze dips to the tagline below the image which boasts, “Get Undressed WithGravedigger: Sex, Love, & Rock ‘N’ Roll.”
Without thinking, I click on the hyperlink, which brings me to a page with a much larger image of Geo.
Lying down on a velvet couch, his arm behind his head, showcasing thick biceps with prominent veins, his dark eyes staring at me, those perfect full lips.
Fuck, that’s hot.
I lean back, pulling my cock out as I press my lips together.
I close my eyes, trying to focus on building a slow, steady rhythm, but I can’t focus.
I open my eyes, staring at his image. At the way his tattoo spans across his defined pecs, how the bottom of the cross doesn’t stop at the waistband of his jeans. It goesbelowthe waistband, and I find myself wondering where it ends.
I never would have dreamed in a million years Geo would be the guy with a giant tattoo that covers his entire chest and torso, but I can’t deny that it’s sexy as hell.
The thought of tracing those lines with my tongue—across his pecs, down his abs, below his fucking waistband—pushes through my psyche and I let out another grunt of guilt.
I think about those perfect hands, fingers threaded through my hair, pushing me down on his cock.
I knew Geo was a virgin when we met. I never judged him for it, even though he was older, because it made sense. His family was pretty religious, and he was a popular Christian artist.
But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t fantasize about driving my mouth over his fucking cock and showing him what Heaven really felt like, even if he was way out of my league.
I close my eyes once more as the familiar fantasy resurfaces and my breath catches in my throat as I let myself succumb to it.
I imagine my fingers gripping his thighs, my tongue swiping across his slit, tasting the salty sweetness of his precum.
I let myself imagine those calloused fingers gripping my hair as he thrusts himself into the back of my throat.
My thrusts come faster, harder, and the sound of wet skin slapping against my palm echoes in the empty, quiet space of my living room
“Oh, fuck,” I curse as my muscles tighten, my abs spasming as I erupt like a volcano.
A deep moan escapes me as warm, thick cum sprays onto my abdomen, and I curse.
Just as the phone rings.
Panic sets in, and I move for my phone, ready to silence it, because I can’t do this right now, I can’t...
