Page 56 of Read My Lips

I fumbled for him. The heat of his cock lit up my palm like I’d never touched anyone else in my life. He fitted in my hand like it made molecular sense.

Breathless, embarrassingly desperate, I didn’t need words to know how much trouble I was in. Christ. This was just a handjob.

Simon’s appreciative groan warmed the air between us. Sparks raced the length of my arm as we jacked each other off like horny teenagers. Except, he kept slowing down, easing off, right when I wanted to race, and what if I messed this up? I needed him to come. Before he changed his mind. Before I started overthinking, and⁠—

Simon caught my jaw with sharp fingers. My neck twinged as he tilted my head towards him, eyes on mine. Time stood still. I wanted to live in every beat of his body. I hadn’t ever meant to look away.

“Stay with me,” Simon commanded.

And there I was, back with him. In alignment I hadn’t realised I’d drifted out of, held in the uncompromising warmth of his eyes as he worked me over, making me writhe.

One corner of Simon’s kiss–bruised mouth perked. He squeezed harder, testing the play of my cock, sheer wickedness in his eye and I buckled at the overload of pressure as he bent me into a solid curve.

This. All of this was everything. I didn’t need his cock in my mouth now.

Wetting his lips, he nodded, fisting me with solid purpose, and I matched him stroke for steady stroke.

When I let myself look – really look – I knew how to read him just like he knew how to read me.

His pleasure-heavy eyelids dipped low with every blink and he pitched into my rough-smooth hand over and over again. I curved under him, hips rolling into every unforgiving squeeze. He didn’t let us hurry. He slowed us down, relentlessly, until my breathing met his consciously controlled in and out, and one more touch would nudge me over and unspool me into forever.

The bedsprings whispered, and his breathing curled into my ear making my skin prickle, electric with pleasure.

His long neck arched gloriously, and the depths of his eyes warmed to rich chestnut right before he came into my fist.

And I let go. Shooting into his strong fingers as I worked his shrinking cock sticky and slick and he shivered and groaned, and the whole damn world quaked.

Around us, the stillness of the empty house crowded in as the last of the sunset lit the wallpaper pink and orange and grey. I kissed him again in the half light as the shadows overtook the room and the night wrapped us up, and it felt like almost getting everything I ever wanted.

CHAPTER

SIXTEEN

MONDAY

I came to, clinging to the edge of the mattress like a man-sized limpet, desperate to avoid body contact, and my stomach’s cavernous growl echoed into the floral infinity of the wallpaper.

We’d gone another round and a half in the darkness, and the tiny little hairs on my body were tight and crusty with the remnants of our cum. In no universe did cuddling up to Simon, post-multiple-hand job equate to no-strings mutual-sexual-gratification type behaviour.

In my sleep, I’d Twistered my arm underneath myself to avoid even the suggestion of it, and my right hand sat there, cold and uncomfortably numb. Moving was going to hurt.

In another reality I’d be boa-constrictoring around him, purring like a cat sat on top of a hot pipe, high on catnip. But it’d be dead awkward when we hadn’t even done pillow talk.

Services offered: BSL interpretation; casual sex.

Oh crap. What had I done?

On the other half of the bed, the steady ocean waves of Simon’s snuffled breathing stopped. The mattress creaked under him.

“Morning.”

His gravelly half-asleep voice should come with floating skull and crossbone emojis. He could bury me like pirate treasure and he didn’t even know it.

Body heat prickled against my upper arm where we weren’t quite touching, my nerve endings pinging at his closeness, and my lazy morning wood got a lot less lazy. Fan-bloody-tastic.

Teeth gritted, I ignored it, pushing up, into a would-be-impressive plank-style stealth action-roll manoeuvre, worthy of one of those British Army recruitment ads, complete with silent, neck-bulging, teeth-gritted scream.

Under torture would I let that out.