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But are you really trying to contain it, Henri? Those are your fingers in his hair and your tongue sliding into his mouth…
And what a lush mouth it was. “You taste like ice wine and goat cheese,” Philip groaned as he came over the table, scattering our wine glasses to the floor, his mouth dancing over mine. “Oops,” he growled when the goblets hit the carpet, dousing the rug with red wine. “I’ll pay for that clean-up,” he huskily added as he shoved cheese and crackers aside. The support under the table moaned but held up long enough for him to move from the tabletop to my lap, his hands finding purchase in my hair now as he deepened the kiss.
My hands were greedy and desperate things, working on the straps of his life jacket to free him from the bulky damn thing. He shrugged out of it, breaking the kiss only long enough to yank off his shirt and then my shirt. His palms roamed over my chest as he licked at my mouth, slipping in with a sigh from me as I rocked my hips up to meet his ass. He sucked in a sharp breath, nipped at my lower lip, and ground downward, pressing his prick into my belly. Someone snarled like a leopard. Could have been me. I’m not sure. What I was sure about was that we needed to move from this damn captain’s chair to the bed.
“Bed…” I panted. He made a guttural sound of acceptance, stood up, pulled me to my feet, and shoved me to the bed not three feet away. Chuckling, I tugged him with me, my hand on his wrist to ensure we both hit the mattress.
“Naked, you got to be naked,” he said, reaching for and then yanking my belt free. “Right now, no clothes.”
“Easy now,” I gasped when he gave the button on my shorts a hard yank. “These are—”
“In the way of my mouth on your cock,” he grumbled.
“Shit yes, they are. Fuck that button.” I tugged on my shorts, popping the brass button. It hit the drapes over the window, falling to the floor unheard as he freed me from my shorts and briefs, then fell on my dick like a starving man. I spread my legs, carded my fingers into his hair, and began to move my hips. Philip moaned, his eyes closing in pleasure as I began to tenderly fuck his mouth. What a sight he was, saliva slicking his lips as my dick moved in and out of his hot, wet mouth. A shudder ran down my spine. I eased out from between his lips after just a moment, spittle leaking from my cockhead to the carpet.
“I wasn’t near done,” Philip complained, then pushed my dick to my belly to feast on my balls.
“I’m close,” I confessed. “Ah damn that is…I am close, Philip,” I warned, upset that I had so little self-control while being proud that I could get it up and be ready to shoot my load down his throat after last night. The man did things to me. “Philip…shit…stop.”
He released my sac with a sultry leonine sound, placed his hands on my face after kissing his way up my body, and gave me a kiss that made my head spin. He got to his feet, unzipped his shorts, kicked off his ratty sandals, and gave his cock a stroke. Precum oozed out of me.
“I’m not sure what I want more. Me in your ass or you in mine.” He tugged on his balls, and my cock kicked. “What do you want, Henri?”
Hearing my name—properly pronounced and raspy with lust—falling from his mouth was nearly as hot as his mouth on my prick. Nearly.
“I need you inside me,” I admitted, and he nodded, a slow, beautiful sort of bob of his head that said he knew just what I needed. I scooted back onto the bed, the mattress softer than my bed at home, and hurried to toss the throw pillows under my ass.
“Sweet mother of dragons,” Philip grunted as he stood beside the bed, condom wrapper in one hand, packet of lube in the other, watching me arrange myself for us to come together. “You’re the prettiest man I have ever laid eyes on, and that includes Victor Prespucci, the guy who used to deliver flour to my aunt’s bakery.”
“Poor Victor. Beaten out by a prissy Frenchman,” I teased, lying back on the bed, my legs now splayed, showing him all that I had.
“I kind of find myself getting into prissy Frenchmen.” He jumped onto the bed, positioned himself between my legs, and rubbed his slippery fingers over my hole. I sighed as he slid two digits all the way in. “Yeah, I really like getting into prissy Frenchmen.”
“Less talking, more fucking,” I snapped after a moment of him rubbing my prostate into a state of frenzy.
“It’s like you don’t even know me,” he mumbled while removing his fingers and replacing them with his fat cock. “Less talk he says.”
I thought to comment with something witty, but Philip chose that moment to slide into me. The stretch was minimal as we’d just done this last night, but the soft sting of being made love to twice within twenty-four hours gave me a moment of pause.
“You okay?” he asked, his rough hands on my ankles, his cock resting fully inside me. “I don’t ever want to hurt you.”
“No pain, trust me.” I reached up to caress his cheek. His dark eyes glowed like slow-cooked pudding on the stove. The rich, creamy kind that Madame always used to make pots de crème, one of my favorite treats since childhood.
“I want to go slow for you,” he whispered, turning his face into my palm to press a small kiss on my lifeline. Something inside my breast crackled to life. A part of me that I had hidden in the closet, much like a begonia bulb that someone had found and then planted in the warm spring soil. How could I care for this abrasive joker as much as I did? It was terrifying. “Then I want to go fast for you.”
“Yes, please, Philip, give it all to me,” I purred, arching up as I clenched around him. He made a sound of purest pleasure, eased out, slid back in, and then took my cock in his hand. With each thrust in, he gave me a stroke, guiding me into a faster and faster pace that soon had me speaking some kind of English/French gobbledygook that even I couldn’t grasp. It didn’t matter. Our bodies were speaking clearly. Mine was on the precipice of orgasm. My calves clamped around his head, his hips pounding away. He rolled his hand over the head of my dick as he went deep, his cockhead bouncing off that knot of hypersensitive nerves, and I blew apart.
Cum coated his fingers, my stomach, and my chin. My body convulsed time and again, milking his cock, leading him into the same bliss that I was experiencing. His hips faltered once, then twice, then they rolled, and he tumbled. His prick pulsed, and the hot rush of his spunk filled the condom, making me shiver. Someday we would shed the condoms. I longed to have him pump himself deep into me. Someday…
“Holy…sweet…pickle relish,” he gasped, his legs finally giving out. He flopped forward, stole a breathy kiss, and then eased out of me. My body protested the loss. With a grunt, he fell to his side, the muscles in his ass twitching as he stood up to remove the condom.
“Pickle…relish?” I asked, my chest still working double time to get enough oxygen into my lungs.
“Brain went blank,” he huffed, rolled down the condom, and then tied it up. “Got to take care of this.” I nodded sleepily, cum cooling on my belly, and enjoyed the gentle rhythm of the lake, my heart, and the soft sounds of Philip in the small bath. The touch of a warm, wet cloth on my chest pulled me from slumber. I blinked awake, appalled that I had drifted off like that.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep,” I coughed out as he sat down beside me, his touch as gentle as a mother washing her babe.
“Don’t be. That means you feel safe around me. I won’t never hurt you, Henri.”
