Unraveling Josh

by Edie Danford

  “Oh God!” His hands gripped my sides hard.

  He tasted so good. Salt and musk and the sweet-damp scent of his hair. His pulse was pounding and I wanted to bite him, drown my tongue in more blissful flavor. I settled for sucking.

  His hands rose from my shoulders to my neck, his fingers tangling in my hair. The pinching tugs on my scalp felt fucking great and I let my teeth fasten to the sleek skin covering the big tendon along his neck.

  His hips bucked. He gasped. I licked the small dents I’d made, soothing him. His fingers tugged my hair harder. Damn. So sensitive.

  The doors swished open behind us.

  I took a step back, but didn’t get far. Josh still had hold of my hair. The rest of his muscles had gone limp—me and the walls were the only things holding him up. His eyelids were at half-mast, his cheeks brilliant red, his lips puffy. I had it on record I was a great kisser, but he seemed more than well-kissed. He seemed…gone. I wondered how much he’d had to drink tonight.

  “C’mon, baby,” I whispered. “You’re gonna love the suite.” I tugged at his hand. The doors started to close again and I reached back to press the button to keep them open. “There’s a couch and a chair and a bed and a carpet…”

  Finally he loosened his hold on my hair. He licked his lips and nodded. “Okay.”

  Taking his hand, I pressed a kiss to his lips. “You sure? You’re not gonna bug out on me?”

  “Yeah,” he breathed. “No. Really. I want this. I want you.”

  He emphasized some of his words as if he were trying to convince himself. I was up for the challenge—I had some excellent methods in mind for showing him how wanting me was a fantastic thing to do, but the elevator was cramping my style. Keeping hold of his hand, I started walking.

  The sound of his raspy breaths in the quiet hall was incredibly erotic. It clashed with the muted colors and cushy silence. It matched the unsteady rhythm of our steps, the hesitant squeeze of his fingers against mine, the pulse-pulse-pulse of blood in my aching dick. I loved this kind of shit—anticipation this crazy would make that first orgasm a thing of amazing beauty. And the idea I was gonna make Josh come? Even more amazing.

  I didn’t let go of his hand as I retrieved my key card and opened the door. I didn’t let go as I pulled him into the living area of the suite and flicked on the lights. I wanted to see his eyes, suck down as many details about his body and its response to mine as I could. “Hold on a sec,” I whispered.

  When the door clicked shut and my eyes adjusted to the change in light, I smiled and dropped his hand. I toed off my boots and kicked them out of the way. Then I pulled off my shirt and let it drop to the floor. He looked at my chest, his gaze lingering on the ring piercing my left nipple before traveling down to the stylized crown of thorns inked in the V between my crotch and right hip.

  It was at this point in the game that eighty percent of tricks went for my pants, tugging whatever happened to be in the way to see the rest of the tat—and get to my biggest treasures.

  Joshua didn’t start up any treasure-seeking expeditions. He closed his eyes and swayed.

  Maybe I should’ve been flattered he looked like he was about to pass out? It was hard to feel anything but panicky when I noticed the muscles along his jaw were tense and he’d curled his fingers into fists. And the usually golden skin on his face was pale…

  Obviously I needed to pick up my game.

  I took a breath and coached my voice to come out deep and slow. “The AC feels great in here. I was getting tired of feeling sticky—sticky not in a good way.” I stepped toward him, clasping his fisted hands gently, easing him back against the wall. The second I touched him I felt some of his tension let go. I nibbled at his rigid jaw and felt his fingers unfurl. “You wanna shower?” I licked at a curl of hair behind his ear. “We can relax under the water for a while.”

  “Sounds good,” he said breathily. “First, though…”

  “First?”

  “Would you kiss me again? Feels good when you do.”

  I smiled. “Making you feel good is what tonight is all about, baby.”

  Josh

  I WAS REALLY glad when he suggested a shower. Water did sound relaxing. And maybe distracting enough to move me beyond my freak out over seeing his naked chest.

  My brain and my dick had always had a dysfunctional relationship. My reaction to Cocky Kid was proving a sex hiatus hadn’t improved the lines of communication between my head and crotch.

  My dick jumped and twitched at the sight of ropy muscles and a lean torso, jacked at the notion of getting it on with a guy who’d had a huge crown of vicious-looking thorns inked above his crotch and a red dragon coiling across half his chest. And the piercings—not just his nipple, but in this light I could see silver twinkling in his ears and maybe even his…eyebrows?

  So my dick was saying: Oh man, touch him!

  And my head was saying: Oh man, ouch!

  To shut down all the clamoring, I asked him to kiss me. Because when we kissed I’d discovered I didn’t think about anything.

  His lips and tongue and teeth were magic. Nibbling, biting, thrusting, probing—first rough then gentle—exploring new parts of my mouth every few seconds, conquering territory like the ridges along my upper palate, the sensitive gum tissue along my front teeth, the very tip of my tongue.

  When Cocky pulled back and laughed against my mouth I realized the weird sound humming in my ears was coming from me. I’d been groaning. Continuously.

  Before I had time to get worried by the idea I’d been making noises I seemed to have no control over, he said, “Let’s get wet. You’re gonna love the shower in this place.”

  He took my hand and led me through the living area. It was messy. A newspaper was spread out on the floor beneath the windows. Clothes were wadded at one end of the sofa. A duffel bag spewed more clothes onto the rug under the coffee table.

  The lived-in look made me feel a tad more comfortable. Gave me something to look at other than Cocky Kid’s tattoos. The bathroom had relaxing stuff to look at too. Lots of marble—a sunken tub and a walk-in shower big enough to fit three or four. Cocky dropped my hand and stepped over to the shower. As he adjusted the controls—there seemed to be a lot of them—I glanced toward the sink.

  The wall behind it was covered with a mirror. When I saw my reflection, I had to brace my hand on the marble vanity. Holy crap.

  My eyes were bloodshot and my pupils were blown. Round spots on each cheek glowed like a couple of traffic lights stuck on red. My stubbled chin didn’t look like mine and my swollen lips seemed unfamiliar too. My hair was sticking up—not in its usual way but in a way that suggested fingers other than mine riffling through it. Maybe the most jarring thing was the lavender-pink mark on the side of my neck. About four inches high, a couple inches wide, the skin around the mark was already starting to look angry and get pebbly. Fuck.

  I nearly jumped out of my skin when two hands came around my waist and rested on my torso. He was just the right height and width that, when he stood behind me, my body eclipsed his in the mirror. Lips pressed against the back of my neck and I shivered.

  I watched one hand slide up under my shirt and the other settle on my waistband. More kisses, the good kind with lots of nibbling and tongue, covered my neck as fingers made swift work of my button and zipper.

  His left hand settled against my pec, his palm shaping itself to the contour there before a blunt fingernail scraped—hard—against my nipple.

  My sharp inhalation made my belly contract and his right hand pushed down into my shorts. “Oh fuck,” I gasped as he found my balls, his hold tight and hard and sure. My head spun. My mouth went dry. The feel of him, the sight of him…the sight of me.

  No—I totally didn’t recognize myself. Especially when my own hand came up to help him tug down my shorts the rest of the way. My dick bobbed free and he released my balls to glide his palm up my length. My cockhead was scarlet and shiny, and when his thumb stroked the crown I
groaned and thrust my hips forward.

  “God, baby,” he whispered, his teeth teasing my skin with the promise of a bite. “Let me… I’ve gotta see." His head appeared next to my shoulder, one cheek resting against my upper bicep. “So damn gorgeous.” The edge of his thumb playing roughly over the groove of my slit.

  I bit down hard on my lip and the pain—sharp and sweet—swirled together with the nerve explosions happening on my nipple and my cock. My lungs heaved and I grunted—a sound unlike any I’d made before, ever. I watched his hand cup my shaft, his long fingers making a tight curve for me to thrust into. And, shit, thrust I did—once, twice—and then, Jesus, I was coming.

  I don’t know if I felt it or heard it or saw it first. In a single heartbeat, all my senses detonated in a mushroom-cloud of sensation—pain and pleasure and jizz at atomic-level heat—sending plumes of white over his fingers and onto my torso and even splatting against the marble by the sink. All the while I was trying to breathe without choking on air, still making those crazy grunting noises.

  Good thing he was propping me against the vanity, because I don’t think my knees would have held me up.

  I slowly became aware of a few things. Like how I was still pumping against his hand, my ass flexing and releasing in a clumsy rhythm. The porn-worthy whispers in my ear—lots of “baby, so good’s” and “oh fuck, yeah’s”. And how his eyes were, in fact, a dark, dark brown and glittering and intense and beautiful as they watched his hand stroke my finally depleting dick.

  Usually when I came it was under highly controlled circumstances. In my room. In my bed. In the dark. With my favorite, tried-and-tested, zillion-dollar lube slicking my shaft and my palm. With a chamois towel at the ready that had been laundered in hypoallergenic detergent.

  I laughed. Giddy at the sight of my come all over his hand and my abs and the sink. I couldn’t help it, even though what I’d done here was a little embarrassing. I mean, yeah, probably for Cocky Kid it qualified as premature ejaculation or something. He’d laid a hand on me and I’d lasted…what? Three strokes?

  “What?” he asked. He laughed too, playing with the silky slick of jizz, rubbing it into the patch of skin just below my bellybutton.

  I shrugged and put my hand over his. I liked the way his rings glittered under the snazzy lights. “Felt really good.”

  He smiled that knockout smile. Then he brought his jizz-covered thumb up to his mouth and licked. “Tastes good too.”

  I told him belatedly, “I’ve been tested regularly. But you know you shouldn’t—”

  “C’mon,” he said, grabbing my hips and winking at me in the mirror. “I’ll wash my tongue off in the shower. Along with other important parts.”

  He shoved at me, turning me around to face him. He put his hands on either side of my neck and tugged. We kissed—his lips and tongue and teeth aggressive, reminding me he hadn’t come like I had. The club in his jeans was a hard reminder of this too.

  Pulling back enough to breathe, he said, “Clothes off.”

  My shorts and boxers were already down around my ankles. I kicked them off and then took care of my T-shirt. Fast. I didn’t want to miss the view in front of me.

  He’d taken off his socks and now he was unbuttoning his jeans. I leaned my ass against the vanity, holding my breath. I’d never admit to being a size queen. That kind of shit didn’t matter to me much at all. But if someone were to hack into the accounts I follow, they might find some devoted to big cocks.

  And, oh Jesus, the guy could definitely model for one of those sites. He was uncut and veiny, bobbing and swinging with heavy power as he bent to shove his jeans from his feet. A serious tool meant for serious fucking.

  He glanced up suddenly, the flash of his eyes taking me by surprise. He took in the expression on my face and, as he straightened, he smiled. “Don’t worry,” he said, reading my mind. “I know how to use it. In ways that are gonna make you feel amazing.”

  He took my hand and led me toward the shower. The water had been running all this time, but the glass walls and the mirror weren’t fogged…

  “I thought we could start cool and then get hot when we felt the need.” He waggled his eyebrows at me. God, that cuteness thing he had going was awesome. Talk about knowing how to use it.

  The jury was still out on his outsized pecker. I wanted to keep feeling good with this guy. It was hard not to have confidence in him when he seemed so confident. But still…

  How to tell the sexy-as-fuck, probably player-to-end-all-players cocky kid I’d hooked up with that I didn’t want to get fucked? Or feel comfortable fucking him. Or—maybe even harder to explain—that I might be up for fucking but he’d have to be really patient, and it would involve complicated shit that probably wouldn’t make me worthwhile in the end?

  I swallowed as we stepped into the shower. The smell of jizz and skin and sweat rose up all around us as the tepid water—coming from multiple jets on the ceiling and the walls—hit us.

  Cocky doused his head quickly and smiled at me through rainbow-fied water droplets, reaching up to sweep my hair from my face.

  “I don’t do anal,” I blurted.

  Okay. Yeah. God. That was one way to tell him.

  I felt my cheeks burn under the water. I’d never made that kind of confession to anyone. I’d never let myself get into a position where I needed to say it. My ex—who I’d been with for four-plus years—hadn’t been into anal sex either. We’d both had our reasons for taking things slow on that front. Very slow.

  Cocky Kid’s smile didn’t falter. “Okay,” he said. “Plenty of guys decide that after taking a gander at the goods.” He slid his hands to my hips and laughed softly.

  He tipped his head back into the spray, closing his eyes. I tried to concentrate only on the water pattering against my back as I watched him enjoy getting wet. His looks were growing on me. The sharp point of his scruff-covered chin, the high crests of his cheekbones, his long, dark hair sleek and silky over his shoulders. Yeah. The “plenty of guys” thing made a lot of sense. He probably had to beat them off with a stick. Or with his…club.

  He opened his eyes and licked droplets from his lips. “Some don’t, though. Which is great. Because after lots of experimenting I can definitely say I fucking love to top.”

  I nodded. Stupidly. What was there to say? I hadn’t done any experimenting.

  He slid his hands down to the upper curve of my ass. My dick twitched when a slender finger dipped into the very top of my crack and stayed there. “Don’t look so glum, baby,” he rasped in his sexy, sexy rumble-whisper. “Shower like this was practically made for blowjobs. Right?”

  Right. Shit. I looked down between our bodies. Below his silver-ringed nipple, below his coiled dragon and vicious-looking crown-of thorns, he was palming his dick, making his foreskin slide up and down, up and down. My throat ached and my salivary glands went wild. I wanted a taste of that so fucking bad…

  But. But… I closed my eyes and my usual freak-out images played out nastily in my head. Red bumps, scaly skin, oozing sores. Hives and herpes and all kinds of gnarly shit. God. Even at a moment like this I couldn’t turn that crap off? I was such a sexy beast.

  “I only have one condom,” I said, determined to deal with my neuroses in a practical, calm way. “And it’s not an, um…magnum size or anything.”

  His laughter came out in gentle gusts against my neck. He tongued and bit lightly against that lavender-pink spot he’d created earlier. I didn’t tell him to stop. “I’ve got plenty.” He took a step back, putting his hand on the shower door.

  “Are they, um—” I evened out my tone. “—are they latex-free by any chance?”

  He raised his brows. “They aren’t. Is that a problem?”

  “Well…”

  “Of course it’s a problem. Or you wouldn’t have asked.”

  “Yeah,” I breathed.

  He laughed. Again. Sex with me was a barrel of laughs.

  “It’s no tragedy,” he said, sound
ing like he actually meant it. “There are many, many ways to get off, you know.”

  I did know. But it kinda sucked I couldn’t seem to manage the basics.

  He got close to me again. Pulled me into another kiss. “One way to get you to stop frowning,” he whispered, “is to kiss the living fuck out of you.”

  I groaned as he kept it up. He scattered open-mouthed kisses along my jaw, my cheek, over my forehead before returning to my lips. My dick was raring to go again. He was thrusting his against me—gentle and slow-rhythmed, like he was trying to soothe me.

  I was a little shocked and a little ashamed that he hadn’t made signs or sounds indicating he was going to—or needed to—come. He’d had a semi or been fully erect for a good long time now. Maybe he could store up a few days’ worth in that monster or something?

  “Watch,” he whispered. I looked down and saw him take his cock and mine in both hands, cupping us together, coaxing until the ridges of our crowns did some seriously mind-bending, toe-curling rubbing.

  I groaned and did a little dance on the tile, adjusting my feet so I wouldn’t fall over.

  “God, that’s good.” He tipped his head back and closed his eyes. Just as I was about to dip my head and lick his wet Adam’s apple, he raised his head. “Need soap to make it even better though, right?”

  I shifted a quick glance toward the bottles set into a little alcove in one of the walls. Hotel-type stuff. Probably with lots of perfume and shit.

  He picked up the one marked Body Wash.

  I squinted down at it, trying to be casual. I made out the word “herbal”.

  He opened the little bottle and I caught a whiff of strong scent. Shit.

  “Hey,” I said. “Why don’t you turn around? And I’ll um, move a bit over there.” I tipped my head toward the corner of the stall. “And help you put it on yourself.”

  He looked up at me with wide eyes. “What?”

  Things had been a little bit awkward so far. But, yeah, here came the big fat awkward stuff. I looked at the door to the shower stall, seriously considering the idea of just bailing.