Gathered Up. Annabeth Albert

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СКАЧАТЬ to touch you.” I groaned, but my hands didn’t leave the headboard.

      My cock still in his mouth, Ev grinned up at me wickedly. He let it slide out of his mouth with a loud plop, a lewd sound that made my balls tighten up. “I have fantasized about this for weeks. You at my mercy. Touching and tasting you until I’ve had my fill. Next time, I will allow you to touch. But right now, I am going to live out my fantasy, thank you very much.”

      “When you put it that way…”

      “There is much I want to do to you, but if you don’t be quiet…” he trailed off ominously.

      “Shutting up now.”

      He gave a dark laugh before swallowing me down again. He didn’t deep throat, but that was okay—his dexterous hands teased the base of my shaft and my balls, working in concert with his generous mouth to make me pant and moan. Remembering what Ev had said about noise, I turned my head to bite one of Ev’s fluffy pillows.

      “Yes. Bite the pillow. Such a beautiful picture,” Ev praised in between more sucks and licks. I wasn’t touching him and we weren’t even all the way naked yet, but I still felt closer to him than I had anyone in years.

      “Fuck, Ev…gonna…” The bastard slowed it down, keeping me riding the edge for what felt like decades, until without warning, he tightened his grip, fingers just this side of too rough on my balls, and that was it. I buried a scream in the pillow as I came. He swallowed greedily around my cock, and the sensation was enough to milk out a few more spurts. The orgasm made my whole body shudder and my hands dropped away from the headboard.

      “So beautiful.” Ev sat up, kneeling next to me. He wiped his face delicately with a towel at the foot of the bed.

      “You planned ahead.” I laughed. I patted my chest and shoved a pillow behind my head. I wasn’t moving, but I needed his cock. “Your turn now.”

      Ev considered my offer like it was a choice of entrees, head tilting to one side. “In my…fantasy, I shot on your stomach. Because you are good with being made a mess.”

      Hot as the image of Ev jerking off was, I was desperate to taste him. “Fuck. That’s hot. Let me suck you until you’re close, then you can make all the mess you want on me.”

      I liked his curious bundle of quirks—hating wet mess and stuff on his hands but wanting to paint me with his cum. The unwrapping me bit by bit had been kinky and sweet and dirty all at the same time. My cock stirred at the memory, waking up a bit more as Ev unzipped and unveiled a thick, uncut cock with a plump head.

      “Fuck. Ev, you’re delicious. Get up here.”

      Straddling my chest, he fed me his cock with the same slow deliberateness he’d explored my body, first giving me only the heavy head. My hands bracketed his hips, but there was no question who was driving this show. In my fairly limited experience, some cock-heads were perfectly round, while others were ovals, but Ev’s had an interesting elongated angle to it, giving it an almost elegant flair before the thick crown and ridge of foreskin.

      He kept a hand on his dick, controlling how much I could suck, and that bit of bossiness got my motor humming again big-time. It also motivated me to do my best work with my lips and tongue, teasing and dancing over his tip, lapping up the copious pre-cum from his slit. The salty tang of pre-cum had always turned me on, and I loved guys like Ev, who made lots for me to lick up and tease out. Finally, he slid his hand back a bit and gave me more to play with. I groaned as the thick length of him slid over my tongue. He was wide enough that I had to do some oral gymnastics to keep my teeth at bay, but not so long as to tax my ability to take all he wanted to give me.

      He found a rhythm of slowly fucking my mouth in long, fluid strokes punctuated by soft curses. If I hadn’t come minutes earlier, his husky whispers combined with the taste of his cock might have been enough to tip me over. He didn’t speed up, but his breathing hitched, and I could tell by the tension in his thighs that he was getting closer. He started going deeper, little jerks of his hips now, not pulling all the way back. My eyes watered and my throat stung and the sensations washed over me in a perfect wave as my focus narrowed to only him and his cock fucking my mouth, him owning me so thoroughly that I needed him for my next breath.

      “Siktir.” Ev moaned the word. I didn’t have to speak Turkish to know he was almost there. I loosened my grip on his hips so he could slide backward, jerking himself with a surprisingly loose grip over my bare stomach. Less than five strokes and he was covering me with thick ropes of cum that pooled on my belly.

      “My imagination is clearly not good enough,” Ev panted, staring at his handiwork for a long moment. Eyes locked on his, I dragged a finger through the puddle, then brought it to my mouth, licked it clean.

      “Dirty man.” Ev laughed approvingly as he fumbled for the towel, first gently dabbing at his dick, then cleaning me up with a tender thoroughness before collapsing next to me.

      “Mine either.” I touched his face, pulling him closer. He smiled at me for a long moment, and I had a feeling he was trying to decide if he was okay with tasting himself on my lips. Just when I was about to roll away, he surprised me by capturing my mouth in a soft kiss. We made out like that for several long minutes, trading little kisses and touches.

      “Oh, Brady, I want—”

      Beep. Beep. Beep. The alarm clock on Ev’s nightstand beeped angrily. I glanced at the time and winced. “Fuck. I’m going to be late!”

      “Hence the alarm.” Ev sat up and rubbed his face. I scrambled to rearrange my clothes and get my shoes on. “Don’t forget your lunch!”

      As I hurried down the stairs, lunch tote in hand, I realized Ev had never finished his thought. All the possibilities made my stomach flop around. Over at the People’s Cup, I got my hands washed and my apron on with two minutes to spare. I had to simply hope that what Ev wanted was what I wanted, and that for once in our lives, we might actually get it.

      Chapter 8

      Dear friends, longtime reader Reba writes, “You have so many gorgeous sweater patterns for men. Which do you suggest I knit for my new boyfriend?” No, dear Reba, no. Unfortunately, I’m here to tell you that the curse of the boyfriend sweater is real. I listen carefully to the ladies in the shop and at Knit Night, and everyone, including yours truly, has a horror story of the sweater gifted too soon. May I gently suggest limiting the number of skeins required for your gift to the number of years you have been together? And for goodness’ sake, put a ring on him before you gift him a sweater. —Evren’s Yarnings

      Given Renee’s general stubbornness lately, I shouldn’t have been surprised when she showed up at six on a Knit Night with Jonas in tow.

      “I tried to see if Carlos’s mother would take him,” she said, bypassing any attempt at a greeting. Carlos was Jonas’s best friend, and his mother was already doing me a huge large by taking him the weekend I had the barista contest. The twins were going to their best friend’s house that weekend as well. Not that Renee couldn’t handle the kids for a weekend in theory, but she had a geology overnight field trip that weekend. And even if she didn’t…Renee couldn’t be trusted not to pull stunts like this.

      That night the twins were going on a birthday dinner and kid movie date with their best friend, and Renee and I had had an argument the night before about how Jonas could not be home alone while she went on a study date. She’d asked if he could come hang out at People’s Cup, something we’d had to СКАЧАТЬ