“I’ll get that drink for you.”
While he was gone I looked over his music collection. He seemed to have very eclectic tastes; classical and jazz, some country and western and folk, soft rock and a smattering of alternative titles. I turned on the CD player to see what he was listening to. I soon recognized Branford Marsalis’ beautiful saxophone playing. I took a seat on the brown leather sofa as Michael prepared my drink in the nearby kitchen. When our eyes met I stroked the front of my jeans again to torment him.
“Make me.” I challenged.
He brought my drink over. “Well, it would be nice to have an actual conversation with you.”
“What makes you think so?” I downed half the glass right away.
He smiled. “You seem like a very interesting person.”
I shrugged. “Right now, I’m a very horny person, Michael.”
“Okay, Jack. No talking, just fucking… or whatever?”
I nodded. It was so hot to hear him talk like that, like me. “Say that again.” I murmured, gulping the rest of my drink and resting the glass on the side table.
“Say what? Fucking?”
He leaned closer to me and whispered in my ear. “Fucking.”
Goosebumps raised on my neck. I shivered.
“…is that all you want, for now?”
I grabbed his hair and pulled his face to mine, kissing him hungrily and desperately. It was like the kiss in the men’s room but better. I felt my will to remain distant dissolving in the heat from his mouth. His warm, wet lips and soft velvet tongue made me crazy. No, no, this is just sex, that’s all. I’m not going to let myself get attached. I tore my mouth away and whispered in his ear. “Please let me suck your cock.”
He moaned and nodded. “Not here.” He took my hand and pulled me up. What is it with him and holding my hand? “Come on.”
I let him lead me down a narrow hall and into his bedroom. He flicked on a lamp. Just as nicely decorated as the rest of the apartment, the furnishings held a masculine flavor. The décor consisted of dark wood and strong colors—reds and oranges mostly. The huge bed sat between two curtained windows, its ornate posters of carved mahogany giving a stately air to the room.
“Jesus, Michael, you could have an orgy on that bed.”
He laughed. “Who says I haven’t?”
I looked at him and raised an eyebrow.
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” he said quietly.
I stared at him, trying to figure out if he was bluffing. “Seriously, Michael?”
He laughed and shook his head. “Okay, you’ve got me. No orgies. But I have been handcuffed to the bed.”
“Fuck off.” I immediately pictured it and my dick got even harder. “By who?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?”
“Do you still have the cuffs?” I asked.
He shook his head and backed up a step. “I don’t do that stuff with someone I don’t know.”
“Oh,” I nodded. “That’s a shame.” I got up onto his bed and lay back against the silk pillows. It really put my own Ikea bed to shame. I put my hands behind my head. “So…do I get to suck your cock?”
He shook his head. “I don’t want you to suck my cock.”
I stared at him in disbelief.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“I, yeah, I just don’t believe anyone’s ever said that to me before.”
He sat down on the bed.
I looked at him. His blue eyes held desire and licentious intent. The prodigious evidence of his arousal strained boldly against the denim of his jeans. I didn’t understand. “Do you want me to do something else?”
He nodded, crawling on the bed toward me. “I want you to let me suck you.” My dick throbbed in response.
“You do?” I said, my voice suddenly shaky.
He hovered over me, his face near my crotch. He looked down at the place where my cock strained against the fabric of my jeans. “Oh, Jack…more than anything.” His voice held a tremor as well.
I hadn’t planned this. I had planned to be in control tonight. I had planned to seduce, not be seduced. But looking at him there, asking me to let him blow me, was the hottest thing I’d ever seen. I nodded weakly. “Okay…”
He smiled and his breathing picked up. He reached for my belt.