Page 8 of After Felix
He examines my face intently, not even glancing away when the waiter brings our drinks. I eye him as I take a sip of my Budweiser. “Have I broken you, or is it your age? Are you having a senior moment?”
He laughs, breaking the calculating look on his face. “You’re a cheeky little shit, aren’t you?”
“It has been said.” I put my drink down and eye him. “So, are we going to have a shag, or not? Time’s a-wasting.”
Someone nearby laughs at that and Max grins at me. “So forthright,” he murmurs.
“The privilege of age.” I look at him. “How old are you, anyway?”
There are faint lines at the corners of his eyes and a few threads of grey in his hair, and I’d guessed he was in his late thirties. I didn’t look him up on the internet before coming here tonight, and I resolve to do so when I get home. It’s rare you can actually google someone you’re shagging and get actual results, and not just some ill-advised shit they posted on social media years ago.
“How old doyouthink I am?” he says mock flirtatiously, leaning in close enough that I catch his scent of sandalwood. It brings back memories of rolling all over those soft sheets in that hotel room. I’ve been perturbed to find my mind straying to memories of that room a few more times than it should have over the last week.
He’s watching me intently again, and I swallow hard and tap my teeth thoughtfully. “I think probably sixty.” He opens his mouth in mock horror, and I laugh. “Only because you’re sowise,”I say reverently. “Being intelligent really piles the years on.”
He shakes his head. “I’m thirty-seven,” he says, trying not to laugh. “Can you see my crow’s feet?”
“A crownevermade those lines. That’s surely got to be a bigger bird.” I wink at him as he laughs loudly. I eye the table where a book is sitting next to his pint. “What are you reading?”
He looks slightly awkward. “Ruth Rendell.”
“Oh, Inspector Wexford. My grandma used to watch those on the telly,” I say cheerfully.
“Thank you so much for that information,” he says darkly. “It’s made my day so happy.”
I laugh. “It’s like I carry sunshine wherever I go.” I eye him. “So, do you like reading crime novels?”
“I do.” He smiles. “I’ve always thought it would be incredibly easy to murder someone and get away with it, so I like it that people get found out in these books.”
I blink. “Said no man ever who hoped to get laid.”
He laughs. “I’m not going to murder you, Felix. Your arse is far too perky for that to happen.”
“I always knew my buttocks could save a life.”
He bites his lip, laughter brewing in those dark eyes as he leans forward. “The only way I’ll kill you is when you die from an overdose of the pleasure that my cock gives you.”
After draining my drink, I put the bottle on the table and stand up to grab my coat. “Pride goes before a fall, Max,” I say. “Maybe we’d better get you back to the hotel before you break something.”
It’s a different hotel and another expensive room, but the sex is just as incendiary as I remember.
This time, though, he’s definitely in charge. He strips me in a dreamy, intent silence punctuated by my groans as he licks and sucks every inch he uncovers. He steadfastly ignores the six and a half inches standing proud between my legs.
“You’re a gigantic tease,” I mutter.
He pushes me onto the mattress, so I lie naked and spread-eagled in front of him.
“It’s only teasing if you don’t come through,” he says.
I open my mouth to reply, but the words die away to a groan as he bends forward and sucks my cock into what I find is an extremely talented mouth.
I know all my heterosexual friends bemoan what they see as my promiscuity, but I’ve been fortunate in finding Max because when youhave sex with an unrepentant tart like him, it’s almost transcendental. He knows his way around a man’s body, and he’s generous and verbal and extremely hot.
“Don’t betoogood at this,” I warn him darkly. “I do want to enjoy sex with other people, you know.”
He releases my dick and grins up at me. “Oh dear, now I’m in a quandary. I was going to blow your brains out with spectacular sex.” I roll my eyes, and he smirks. “But now I think maybe I should fart, come far too quickly, and roll over and go to sleep.”
“It’s my problem,” I say earnestly. “Don’t worry your pretty little head about it.”
