by Lily Velden
But now there was Robert, and his was the only cock I wanted.
Kurt squeezing my thigh yet again brought me out of my musings. As I removed his hand, placing it on his own thigh, I looked from him to Robert. Both looked speculative, but seeing Robert’s assessing look, I realized he was another reason I felt so uncomfortable with Kurt’s increasingly daring moves—I didn’t want Robert thinking I was interested.
And I certainly didn’t want Robert’s hands on Arno.
I wanted them on me.
While my gaze was still on Robert, Kurt grabbed my left hand and placed it firmly on his crotch while at the same time pushing his groin up into my hand.
“See how much I like you. Maybe you like Kurt much too?” he asked, leaning in to whisper in my ear.
I pretty much guessed he’d have a sizeable dick, in keeping with his stature and physique, but I wasn’t prepared for how hot his groin would feel. I pulled my hand away as if it had been burned. Raising it to my face, I pretended to look at my watch.
“Christ, will you look at the time. We have to get going, Robert, if we’re going to catch some shut-eye. Don’t forget how early our flight is.”
Robert smiled, enjoying, I think, my freak-out, but thankfully he played along and glanced at his own watch.
“Hmm, yes. It is rather late, isn’t it? Time really does fly when you feel a ball… oops, I mean, when you’re having a ball.” Chuckling, he rose and extended his hand to first Arno and then Kurt. “Nice meeting you guys.”
I imitated him, leaning across the table to shake Arno’s hand before turning to Kurt to shake his. Not so surprisingly, he slipped his card into my hand.
“You call me next time you visit Germany. Yes?”
“Sure,” I nodded, promising easily. I wasn’t likely to be in Germany anytime soon.
After shoving his card in my back pocket, I followed Robert as he wove between the tables on his way to the exit, feeling Kurt’s eyes on my back the whole time.
ROBERT CLOSED the door to our hotel room using only his foot. He spun me around, cupped my face, and dragged me toward him. He covered my lips with his, prying mine open and slipping his tongue, so like a hot snake, into my mouth. Not that I needed much persuading to return his heated kiss. From the moment he gained entry, I was sucking on his tongue hungrily, moaning my joy as the taste I’d been longing for all evening bloomed over my own.
My cock rivaled his sporty jalopy, going from limp to rock hard in under three seconds. It pressed against the confines of my jeans almost to the point of pain.
“Our German friend wanted to kiss you like this.”
“Hmm.”
“Did you like him all hot for you?”
I didn’t answer, leaning in, instead, to suck on Robert’s Adam’s apple in the way I’d already discovered he liked.
He groaned. “Did you like the feel of his big, hard cock under your hand?”
“Quit talking and kiss me, Callinan,” I growled, wanting to forget all about Kurt.
Man, did he kiss me. There was nothing soft or sensual about it. He was on a mission to conquer my mouth, and conquer it, he did—not that I didn’t do a little conquering of my own, but I have to say, as his tongue took control of mine, it was one of those times when I didn’t mind being on the “losing” team.
When, moments later, he pulled away and attempted to speak, I leaned in and stopped him by sucking the plush cushion of his bottom lip into my mouth. I couldn’t help myself. The taste and feel of his lips were so damn addictive, no matter how much he kissed me, I always wanted more.
He wrenched himself away, breathing hard.
“Bet Kurt wanted to do this too.”
He grabbed the hem of my shirt and tee, freeing them from the waistband of my jeans and dragging them roughly up my torso, but my still-buttoned shirt foiled his attempts to relieve me of it.
“I want you naked,” he demanded roughly, grabbing my shirt and jerking it open. Buttons flew everywhere. He yanked it down both of my arms simultaneously, effectively trapping me. “Hmm, or maybe I should keep you like this, ensnared and at my mercy.”
Despite his words, he kept working on removing my stubborn shirt, and I groaned in relief when it finally fell in a heap on the floor behind me, freeing my arms. Uncaring of the fact one of my favorite button-downs was now ruined, I stepped on it as Robert moved us farther into the room.
I clawed at the hem of his tee while he did the same with mine, both of us desperate for the feel of bare skin under our hands. He bit my lip and I growled in both pleasure and pain. Even as he dragged my tee up and over my face, he continued to kiss and bite me through the cotton. I was so fucking turned on the slight pain only heightened my arousal. Maybe I could get into some kink after all.
Having divested me of my tee, he moved to my jeans, making quick work of unfastening them and yanking them, along with my briefs, halfway down my thighs. I, in turn, reefed his over the curve of his ass, glorying at the sight of his hard, leaking cock springing free, splattering my hands with precum. Staring at him, I raised my fingers to my mouth and slowly and deliberately licked them clean, moaning appreciatively. Robert groaned, and with one wriggle his jeans were around his ankles, and he was stepping out of them.
There was an urgency in his touch I’d never experienced before. Mine matched his. There was no way I could slow things down, even had I wanted to.
And I didn’t want to.
Robert continued to move me toward the narrow stairs that led to the mezzanine bedroom. I stumbled a little, made awkward by my half-off jeans. Grasping me about the hips, he took control and marched me backward until we reached the base of the narrow staircase. I tried to turn within the circle of his arms, intending to scramble up them, but Robert had other ideas. With surprising gentleness, he eased me down, barely giving me a moment to adjust before diving on my cock.
The wooden steps pressed uncomfortably into my back, but I didn’t care, not when he had his hands all over me. I couldn’t think. I could barely fucking breathe. I did, somehow, manage to toe myself out of my left shoe, but that was all I managed. Even that was a small miracle when I was so overwhelmed by the sensation of his touch, so uncharacteristically frantic and needy.
Robert had his hands on my shaft and balls, pumping and squeezing me, while he used his mouth to envelop the head of my dick, and his tongue to delve into my slit. It was almost too much to bear.
I blindly groped for his cock, needing to feel the weight of it in my hand, needing to feel its hot, hard length jerk and pulse at my touch, the same way my cock was doing at his. I wanted his beautiful rod so bad I ached. I wanted it on my tongue. Down my throat.
It was not to be.
“Our new friend, Kurt, may have wanted your pretty dick tonight, sunshine,” Robert panted, lifting his face from my groin, “but he’s going to have to wait in line. Tonight… this summer, your cock and arse are mine. And I don’t feel like sharing.”
And then he devoured me.
He swooped on my dick, engulfing my entire length, burying his nose in my groin. Breathing noisily through his nose, he hummed and swallowed. All I could do was lie back, loving the way I filled his throat, almost choking him.
It wasn’t sensual. There was none of the finesse with which he usually blew me. No slow erotic buildup. No teasing me to the point of madness. It was fast and furious. It was lust. Pure and simple. Raw, unadulterated lust.
He obviously wanted to rob me of my juice in record time.
And I wanted to give it to him.
Strike that.
I needed to. I was desperate to flood him with my juice. Fill him to overflowing.
Later I’d return the favor and worship him.
Later, I’d lavish his dick with so much attention he’d think he’d died and gone to heaven.
Now, all I could do was surrender and let Robert take me for a ride, a ride where he sucked the cream right out of my balls to a stream of groans so loud I was surprised manageme
nt didn’t send up security to see who was being murdered in our room.
He continued to work my cock even after I’d come, only releasing me when I whimpered from the attention he gave to my now-sensitive head. When he finally allowed my soft cock to fall from his lips, he licked me clean, the act the gentlest since leaving the Hofbrauhaus. With a quiet chuckle he softly kissed the crown of my dick before rolling to lie beside me on the stairs.
“Holy fucking shit, Robert!”
He laughed at my breathless exclamation.
Using my hands as leverage, I pushed myself up on my elbows, laughing as I looked down the length of my body. I hadn’t even managed to toe off my remaining shoe, let alone free myself of my jeans, in my eagerness to have my cock in his mouth.
“Let Kurt try to top that!”
“Kurt who?” I quipped.
OUR TRAVELS over the rest of the summer were delightfully chaotic. There was no system or logic to them. We flitted from city to city, town to town—anywhere our fancy took us. At times, we flew, at others, we rented a car. We’d see something, hear something, or read something, and from that we’d decide our next destination. Our zigzagging took us from Amsterdam to Florence, from Venice to Prague, and from Mont Saint-Michel to Mainau Island in Germany. We drove through the Lot Valley and explored the ancient village of Rocamadour—the fact that the tiny town had been carved out of the cliffs well over a thousand years prior, using only bare hands and basic tools, blew my mind. We sipped limoncello in Positano, with the scent of the sea in our noses and the cries of the gulls in our ears. And we drank far too much anisette in Santillana del Mar.
I was in heaven.
I was in love.
Not that any words of love were spoken between us. We laughed and we teased, trading banter back and forth. We debated and talked dirty, but not once was the L-word uttered. Not even when we made love night after night, day after day.
I didn’t care.
Robert was attentive and tender, and unfailingly gentle. He stroked my cheek and nibbled on my ear, and it was as if my lips were a magnet for his. He couldn’t keep his hands off me. He looked at me with desire in his gaze and spoke to me with passion in his voice. I watched his face in the aftermath of our lovemaking. I studied it each and every time as intensely as I had the first night he took me, and not once did I see that look of longing for more in his eyes. And when sleep finally came for us, he curled himself around me. That was all I needed. He was as happy as I was. I was sure of it.
Who cared if he never spoke of his feelings? It wasn’t exactly my forte, either. Perhaps gay men didn’t speak of these things the way hetero ones were expected to by their women. I didn’t know and I didn’t care. I was like every other fool in the early stages of love—I saw it all through rose-colored glasses. My world was a kaleidoscope, with each new image more enchanting than the previous. The odd times Robert made comments which didn’t fit with my dreamy view of us, I disregarded or ignored them. Instead, I’d replay his revelations at the rose garden. I’d recall his vulnerability. I only heard what I wanted to hear, saw what I wanted to see. I didn’t allow anything to prick the beautiful bubble I’d created around us.
Not even the occasional sneer or derogatory remark directed at us by some passing homophobe dampened my happiness. Who cared what some stranger thought?
When only two weeks of my vacation remained, and it was time for us to return to London, I was like any new bride: reluctant to end my honeymoon and rejoin the real world.
13
“ROBBIE! NOAH!” Mrs. Higginbotham squealed, dashing down her front steps as we clambered out of the taxi. She’d obviously been keeping an eye out for us.
A sense of déjà vu hit me as I watched Robert scoop her up in his arms and plant a noisy kiss on her cheek. Once they were done with their ritual of shoulder-slapping, blushing, and grinning, she turned to me and opened her arms. I was thrilled to be included in her enthusiastic welcome and walked straight to her, leaning down to give her other cheek a peck.
From the way she looked at me, I knew she hadn’t missed a thing, not my glowing face nor my shining eyes. I just hoped she wouldn’t notice my delicate walk….
She shooed us inside, muttering something about feeling sure we must be hankering for some good old home cooking. Once she was out of earshot, Robert turned to me and grinned.
“I reckon we’ll be eating hearty beef-and-vegetable soup tonight, or maybe chicken.”
“I’m going with some sort of casserole.”
“What are you willing to bet on it?” he challenged playfully as he held his front door open for me.
“Loser has to rim the winner?”
“You’re on!”
Both the giving or receiving of a rim job was new to me, but I’d taken to it like a duck to water. This was one bet I wouldn’t mind losing.
Following Robert upstairs, I wondered where I’d be sleeping. After Paris, on our haphazard jaunt across Europe, we’d always booked the one room, but I didn’t want to assume we’d continue sharing a bed now we were back in London. Perhaps Robert preferred to sleep alone. Regardless of my concerns over our sleeping arrangements, I offloaded my suitcase in the guest room, where the remainder of my clothing was stored.
Feeling a bit stale and gritty from our fIight and the taxi ride from the airport, I tossed up whether to have a quick shower or head back downstairs to await Mrs. Higginbotham and her home-cooked meal. A rather noisy growl from my stomach decided for me. I hoped she’d meant what she said about it only being a jiffy.
Robert was already downstairs, reaching into one of his overhead cupboards for a few bowls. I saw he’d already laid out three place settings with wine glasses. My stomach gave another rather ominous sounding rumble that made me flush with embarrassment, but Robert merely laughed.
“Me too! I’m bloody starving. I hope Higgy hurries up.”
“Always so impatient, Robbie,” her familiar voice called out from the entry hall. “I swear you have the patience of a two-year-old.”
“Don’t forget the appetite of a teenage athlete.”
“Great,” she complained playfully. “So Noah and I have to put up with a toddler and teenager housed in the one body?” She turned on her heel and called to me over her shoulder. “Follow me, Noah. We adults can eat at my place.”
“Higgy!” Robert’s exclamation was followed by his sprinting to the front door, where he stood with his arms akimbo, blocking her retreat. “You can’t leave, Higgy. I’m starving! Besides, you love me! Hold on to that thought.”
“That I do, you rogue!”
Standing by the dining table, I smiled as I watched their interaction. I loved seeing the boyish side to Robert as much as his darker, sexier side.
Robert leaned toward her, sniffing appreciatively at the covered pot. “So, Higgy, what did you make for us?”
Turning her back on him, she smiled at me as she answered. “A lovely thick, hearty beef-and-vegetable soup.”
I had to suck my cheeks in so as not to laugh aloud at the way Robert fist-pumped the air while silently mouthing, “Oh, yeah,” at me.
I’d lost our bet. It seemed I’d be, ah, dining twice….
AS I exited the guest bedroom, towel in hand, I could hear the soft murmur of Robert and Higgy talking, if not their actual words, as he saw her out. Hearing them made me smile. Dinner had been a happy, noisy affair as she’d squealed over the scarves we’d bought for her to add to her already huge collection. She quizzed us endlessly about our European jaunt. Robert, I discovered, lived by the adage of never letting the truth get in the way of telling a good story. With a wink and a smile, I’d joined him, using my own version of creative license to embellish our stories. The way Mrs. Higginbotham’s gaze to-and-fro’d between us as we took turns telling our tales reminded me of an avid sports fan watching a long tennis rally.
Robert hadn’t been shy or reticent in front of her at all, regularly reaching over to stroke the nape of my neck, to tease the en
ds of my hair, or lightly scratch me. With each of his touches, I’d found myself unconsciously leaning into him, like a kitten seeking a tickle. And just like a cat, I’d practically purred my joy.
Following his lead, I’d reciprocated, squeezing his hand as it lay upon the tablecloth, and even going so far as to kiss his cheek when I’d stood to fetch a second bottle of the French wine we’d brought back with us.
Higgy had watched it all with a barely concealed speculative look.
I heard the front door shut as I walked down the hall barefooted, the carpet soft and warm under my feet. I’d almost reached the bathroom door when I heard Robert bounding up the stairs.
“What are you doing?” he asked, smiling at me.
“I’m about to have a shower.”
“I don’t think you should use this bathroom.”
“Oh?”
“No, sunshine, I think you should follow me and use mine. I think you should help me prepare your dessert.”
He grinned at me, tilting his head to the side, and I couldn’t help it—I smiled back.
“Well, lead the way, big boy.”
Lead he did, and I followed—gladly—loving the way his jeans hugged his long legs and lean ass. Once inside the bathroom, I began to unbutton my shirt, but he stopped me.
“Let me,” he breathed against the tender skin beneath my ear, his lips following his words and pressing against my heated flesh.
“I thought I was supposed to be pleasing you,” I moaned, leaning back against the vanity, and arching my neck to expose more flesh to his seeking mouth.
“Oh, you will, sunshine. You will.”
He made quick work of the first few buttons, and with an impatient flick he unveiled one shoulder. I gripped the edge of the basin with both hands, bracing myself, because I knew as soon as his mouth made contact with that certain spot where my neck met my shoulders, my knees would buckle. They always did.