Page 4 of After Felix
He looks at me for a long second and then throws his head back in a throaty laugh that tightens my balls and rolls down my spine like he’s stroking it with suede.
“You’re a chatty one, aren't you?” He grins. “I had you pegged as one straightaway.”
“And what else did you have pegged about me?” I throw my T-shirt over a chair and strip off my jeans, making a mental note of thanks that the skinny denim comes off easily. Sometimes it’s like taking off a layer of skin.
“I think you’re mouthy and love a good fuck.”
As I remove my bright blue briefs, he strips off his jeans, and then we both stand there, naked. He’d been commando. I approve.
“You’re not wrong,” I say hoarsely and push him to sit on the edge of the bed.
“What?” he starts to say and then grins as I shove his legs apart and kneel between them.
I smile at him. “Before we get too far with the proceedings, I just want to say how much I approve of this place. The carpets are very soft on my knees.”
“I picked it just for that fact. It’s always something I look for on a hotel brochure,” he mutters, staring at me as I lower my head. “Oh shit,” he gasps.
I nuzzle in and inhale the scent around his balls. It’s dark and rich and makes my mouth water. “I love this smell,” I say dreamily, looking up to find him watching me. His lips are swollen, and his hair mussed and wavy. He looks gorgeous. “You smell delicious.” I run my nose around the root of his dick and then pull back. “And this,” I say, grabbing his cock and giving it a slow tug. “This is wonderful.”
He groans, throwing his head back, the tendons and muscles in his neck showing in stark relief. “We aim to please,” he mutters.
“We’ll see,” I say briskly before bending and taking the head of his cock into my mouth. I suck on the shiny knob, my mouth watering at the taste of precome. He’s big and wide, and his girth stretches my mouth. It’s fantastic, and I sink into the wonderful headspace that sex gives me where nothing and no one matters—just this.
I take more of him and suck steadily, pulling off every few seconds to blow cool air on his cock and lick the veins that are now standing up.
“Christ,” he says, falling back onto the bed and staring sightlessly at the ceiling. “You’re so good at that.”
I grin at him. “If you think that, wait until you see my party trick.”
“What?” He gives a groan that can probably be heard in the foyer as I relax my throat muscles and take all of him down. This particular trick took me bloody ages to perfect, but all those poor bananas were sacrificed for a good cause. They died in service.
“Oh my fuckingChrist,”he shouts and struggles up onto his elbows. He stares at me intently through sexily half-lowered eyelids. “Fuck me,” he breathes as I take him down.
I pause dramatically and then wink at him and swallow.
“Ungh,” he grunts, and then he pushes my head back gently until he leaves my mouth with a gentle pop. I eye his cock avariciously as it gleams wet from my mouth.
“Why did you do that? I could have gone longer,” I inform him.
He groans. “I couldn’t. I was about to come, and then I’d be useless to you.” He grins at me. “So, when you said party trick, I was imagining you making balloon animals. I bet you were a popular boy.”
I smile. “You have no idea what I can do with coloured rubber.”
“I’d love to fuck you. Do you do that?”
I open my eyes wide. “Oh my God,yes. I didn’t come here for afternoon tea. I want a good hard fucking.”
“Where have you been all my life?” he says, grinning at me. He’s gorgeous in the afternoon sunshine, all broad shoulders and long legs, handsome face flushed and intent but still with that glimmer of lazy laughter. It seems to cling to him like magic fairy dust.
I swallow and get back with the programme. “Where are your condoms and lube?” He points to the good old bedside table standby, and I grin. “Get comfortable,” I instruct him, rising to my feet. As I stroll over and open the drawer, I’m aware of his eyes hot on me like a touch.
I grab the condom box and extract one, then tear off the wrapper and palm the slippery circle. “Like what you see?” I ask, picking up the lube bottle and tossing it next to where he’s now lying on the bed, all the long length of him stretched out for my viewing delight.
He fists his cock and strokes while watching me. “I definitely do. I must visit bookshops more often.”
“Ah, I feel I’m giving you unrealistic expectations.” I climb onto the wide bed and knee-walk over to him. I push his hand away and roll on the condom, fisting his length and finishing with a gentle snap. The sound always reminds of the starting pistol to a lovely race. “Maybe avoid bookshops from now on.”
I climb onto him and settle myself down to sit just above his cock. He’s a brilliant mattress, all hard muscles and sleek skin that’s roughened by hair that tickles the inside of my thighs deliciously. I squeeze a dollop of lube into my hand, and he starts to sit up, his stomach muscles contracting in a very distracting manner.
