The relief and the pleasure exploded inside of me, and I moaned. I moaned loudly. I broke the rules and threaded my fingers into his hair; I eased my cock deeper into him, and I acted like a desperate slut. To be fair, I fucking was.
“I’m sorry, can’t help it,” I gasped. “Fuck, that’s amazing.”
I could tell he’d probably never done this before, but it just worked. It felt so damn good, and he sucked me hard and wetly. No one needed finesse and grace. Or rhythm, for that matter. All that existed was my cock in his mouth—and his tongue. Madonn’, how he used his tongue.
“Close,” I groaned.
The ball of desire dropped lower and lower, and a tingling sensation rushed down my spine.
He didn’t stop sucking me.
I couldn’t warn him again. My orgasm crashed down on me, and my whole body protested as I tensed up more than I already had. I screwed my eyes shut behind the mask, I held my breath, and I started coming. Bursts of come coated the roof of his mouth. He prolonged my climax by gripping the base of my cock tightly, almost too tightly, but the way he sucked the release from me and made the sexiest, greedy humming sounds intensified the bliss.
As the orgasm subsided, all strength left my body. My hands fell to my sides, and I couldn’t move a muscle.
Oh my God.
I sucked in a sharp breath and waited for my heart to stop pounding.
Still couldn’t move. I’d officially melted into the mattress.
I swallowed dryly. “Do I have to be quiet?”
He nodded with my softening cock in his mouth. Then he repositioned me on my side, and he stayed next to me, seemingly comfortable down there. His tongue swirled around me sluggishly, sensually, and it drew another shudder from me.
Was he serious? He was gonna sleep now? Like that?
It was hot and felt freaking fantastic, obviously, but I kind of wanted cuddles. And kissing. I wanted to kiss him. Hell, I wanted to worship his feet, and that wasn’t my kink.
He hummed and pressed the head of my cock between his tongue and the roof of his mouth.
I sighed in contentment, exhaustion creeping in, and wove my fingers through his hair again. I loved the feel of it.
“It’s a little cold,” I admitted.
Gideon released my cock and responded by pulling up the duvet and covering most of my body with it. Then he snuck under it himself and gathered my leg over his middle.
“Give me a pillow, please,” he said.
I reached blindly for one and pushed it down the mattress.
He’d been serious. He’d made himself a little spot there, and he was gonna sleep while nursing from me.
“Your cock is perfect,” he murmured between soft kisses. “It belongs in my mouth.”
Yeah, okay. I scrubbed a hand over my jaw and yawned. These two months were suddenly looking a lot more interesting, even to me, ’cause fuck if I’d done this before.
Gideon was something else.
I stayed in Brooklyn after working late on Friday and coerced my brother into having dinner with me at our favorite diner. It was this shitty little dive in Prospect Park where the two owners had never been able to agree on the interior design. So it was part fifties diner with checkered floors, red faux-leather boots, and a jukebox, and part rock ’n’ roll hangout with old guitars and posters on the walls. They had cheap beer, the best wings in New York, and decent cheesecake.
We ordered two baskets of wings, beer, and fries before Anthony told me to spit it out.
“Huh?” I cocked my head.
He offered a come-on look. “You’ve been restless all day. Somethin’s buggin’ ya.”
He wasn’t wrong.
“You better not regret covering more classes,” he said.
“I’m not.” I showed my palms. Hell, quitting at Starbucks and Applebee’s had been the best thing happening this year. It freed up most of my time and allowed me to work at the academy almost full time. “I gotta talk to someone about my client, and you’re my favorite.” I batted my lashes.
He snorted and hauled out a few notebooks from his messenger bag. The leather was worn and weathered from years of use. It’d been a birthday present from Pop once.
Anthony flicked me a glance. “He treats you all right, doesn’t he?”
“Yeah, no, it’s not that.” I didn’t know where to start, and the server was on his way with our beer, so I waited.
Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday had shown me a side of Gideon that was both sexy as sin and frustrating. Yesterday, he’d fucked me for the first time, and the same rules had applied. No talking, barely any moving, and I wasn’t allowed to see him.
He got me off just fine and was equally demanding and giving; he was both rough and gentle. In that respect, he was sort of a fantasy come true. But the rules, man…fucking hell, I hated them.
I nodded in thanks and took a swig of my beer before the foam had disappeared.
Then I wiped my mouth and took a breath. “He won’t let me do anything,” I said. “If it’d been his kink to mess around with a fuck doll, I’d understand better, but to explore…? I don’t know. It feels like there’s another reason why he doesn’t want me to move or say anything.”
“Rewind—wait. You’re not allowed to talk or move?” Anthony’s forehead creased with confusion.
I shrugged. “I wear a sleep mask too. I don’t know what he looks like.” The whole situation was difficult to explain. “Here’s the thing. He’s…” I scratched my forehead quickly, racking my brain for the right words. “He both takes and gives a lot. He’s seriously addictive with how he uses me, but it’s like he’s not interested in participation. Which is kinda fucking important when you explore something new, if you ask me. I mean, isn’t that the point? Figuring things out with someone?”
“Hm.” His short hum was so him. It was usually followed by a long spiel about things I had to consider.
It made me scramble. “He’s kept his sexuality hidden for what I assume is most of his life. Our first night together ended with a seven-hour-long cuddling session, and he told me he was tired. Like, mentally wrung out. I think he’s…you know, insecure and uncertain. It comes out here and there. And if I talked or were a more active participant, maybe it would change the path he’s on.”
He tilted his head at that last bit. “He could be trying to prevent chaos. You know James at the academy—we gotta email him clear-cut instructions, notes, and the songs he’s going to work on beforehand so he can mentally prepare himself. The smallest change in his schedule throws him off.”
Legit. James was a talented pianist and found peace in music. He’d been with Anthony since he was a little kid. Now he was a senior in high school who would probably get accepted into Juilliard. But as Anthony had mentioned—the smallest change could ruin the kid’s day and catapult him into panic.
Was that why Gideon was so strict with the rules?
“Maybe he’s trying to save face,” I realized out loud.
“Who?”
“My client. Yeah, because—yeah, he indicated that he doesn’t wanna come off as a beginner who doesn’t know what he’s doing.”
Anthony quirked a wry smirk. “He wants to achieve the impossible. Good luck with that.”