Chapter Twenty-Four
I dozed a bit, but even in the comfort of Vince’s arms, I couldn’t relax. I had schoolwork to do. I had to be up early. I needed to check on Gram.
But first, I just wanted a bit of time. And if the hard bulge pushing against my hip was any indication, Vince had other things on his mind.
“You awake?” he asked as he nuzzled my neck.
“Mm-hmm.” I stretched, feeling the length of his body against mine, smiling at the way he moaned when I pressed into him.
“You need to study.”
“I do,” I confessed. I tilted my head so I could look up at him. “But I can think of about a billion other things I’d rather do.”
He made a sound, almost like a growl. “You and me both.”
I smiled, kissing him, loving the flirtatious look on his face. “Oh yeah?”
“I’m making a list.”
He said it as a joke, but it made my heart skip a beat, partly from nerves, but partly just wondering what exactly he had in mind. “Like what?” I asked.
“Lots of things.”
“Tell me one.”
“I’ll do better than that. Let me show you.” He took my hand and started to pull me from the couch, but I hesitated. I wanted him. God, I wanted him. But I still wasn’t sure if I was ready.
He seemed to read my mind. He smiled, that goddamn cute smile of his that made my stomach do a somersault. “Trust me.”
In the other corner of the room was a big, deep chair with an ottoman in front of it. He sat me down in it, and then, to my surprise, he left and came back holding a laptop.
“Let me get in behind you.”
I did, scooting up to the edge of the chair so that he could wedge in against my back. I settled in between his legs, and he put the computer on the ottoman in front of us.
On the screen was a video, paused on a shot of one naked man bent over the back of a couch while another man fingered his ass.
My heart went into overdrive. My cock began to stiffen in my pants. “You want to show me porn?”
He chuckled into my neck. “One in particular, yes.”
He clicked, and the two men jumped into action.
It was a porn, all right. I was nervous, but turned on too. I could feel Vince’s erection on my backside. He put his arms around my waist and kissed the back of my neck.
I watched.
They were both pretty big guys, not hairy enough to be called bears, but sure as hell not twinks, either. Probably in their forties. Burly and rough. But there was an amazing tenderness between them too. Vinnie pushed himself tighter against my back. My pants were still buttoned, but he cupped my groin, squeezing gently, and I moaned while the men on the monitor continued to move. The first one had several fingers inside the other.
“What I like about this one,” Vince said in my ear, “is that they really seem to love each other. I think they’re actually a couple, and it shows.”
Yes, it did. I didn’t watch a lot of porn, but I’d certainly seen enough to know what he meant. The men kissed a lot, and when their eyes met, there was a spark there that was missing in most sex films.
On the screen, the men got up and moved to another couch. “This is the part I want you to see.”
The smaller of the two laid the bigger one down on his back. He positioned himself between his lover’s thighs. He kissed him first, and stroked him, but it was porn after all, and pretty soon, he began to fuck him.
Except it wasn’t just fucking.
Vince was right. The two men weren’t simply having sex for the camera. They loved each other. Even as the smaller man thrust into the bigger one, the bigger one’s legs wrapped around his hips, and they kissed and caressed each other with a tenderness that could not be faked.
“That.” Vince’s voice was thick and husky in my ear. “That’s what I want you to do to me.”
I could almost have come at the thought. I tried to speak, but couldn’t. I had to clear my throat before I could say the words. “You want me to fuck you?”
He groaned, and the hand on my groin squeezed again, making me squirm. “Yes. But more than that, I want you to make love to me.”
“Now?”
He chuckled. “No.” His hand began to move on my erection, stroking me through my jeans. “Someday. When you’re ready.” He nipped at my neck. “When we’re both ready.”
“Oh God,” I moaned, because it was all I could do. He wanted me to fuck him? He’d said it before, but not like this. Not when he wasn’t shit-faced drunk. It scared me to death, but it thrilled me too. I thought about having Vince’s legs wrapped around me while I made love to him.
“But let’s take it slow, okay?” he said. “Slow and easy.” He kissed my neck again. “Let’s enjoy each other.”
Enjoy each other? Yes, that sounded good. Fucking him sounded good. His deep moans against my neck sounded good. His hand was moving faster on me. On the screen, the men were kissing, bucking together, tenderness becoming more frantic.
He wanted me to fuck him, and I wanted it too. Would it be tonight?
His right hand continued to stroke me. His other hand slid up my chest inside my shirt to caress my nipple. “Stop thinking.”
“What?”
“You’re thinking. Frantically. I’m showing you porn and kissing you and trying to get you off, and your mind is going a mile a minute. Stop it. All you do is think.”
Did I? “I do not.”
“You do. Think, think, think. And worry.” He laughed, but it was a kind laugh. He reached around me to close the laptop and put it on the floor, then pulled me into his arms, shifting us both together somehow so that I was pinned beneath his weight in the chair. He bit teasingly at my lower lip. “I’ve never met a guy who worries as much as you.”
Was that true? Did I worry? Well, sure, about some things. Like work and school and my Gram, and whether or not we could pay the rent and fix the dishwasher. And about whether I could take care of her or not. And whether I’d ever be able to do something that wasn’t waiting tables. I worried, sure. But didn’t everybody?
“But—” I started to say.
He was still on top of me, nuzzling my neck, and he laughed. “Stop thinking.”
“You’re the one who brought it up.”
“Fine.” He kissed me, his tongue teasing over my lip. “But now I want you to stop. Relax, Trey.” He shifted to the side, gripped my ass and pulled me tight against him. His lips returned to my neck. “Just let go.”
“What the hell does that mean?” I asked. I put my hands on his chest and tried to push him away, but he didn’t move. “Are you saying I’m frigid or something?” He kept hold of me, smiling that teasing, smartass, lopsided smile of his.
“I’m saying you’re uptight. There’s a difference.”
“Because I’m still a virgin?”
He shook his head. “No.”
“Then what?”
“Do you remember the first night we went out? When we danced?”
God, how could I forget? “Of course.”
“You told me that it was okay to be turned on. Remember?”
I wasn’t sure I liked where this was going, but I said, “Yes.”
“Well, you were right, Trey. It’s all right to feel good together. And to be turned on. And it’s all right to stop worrying, and thinking, and saying no. I’m not saying we have to have sex now, or tonight, or ever for that matter. I’m saying it’s okay to feel good, whatever that means. It’s all right to let go.” He leaned down to brush his lips over mine. His fingers brushed my cheek, and he looked again into my eyes. “Do you believe me? Do you trust me?”
Did I? “Yes.”
“Good.” He began to kiss my neck. “Now relax. Stop thinking. Just let go, Trey. Let things go where they will.”
It confused me. Was he talking about sex or not? “But…”
He slid his hand under me to grab my ass. His lips brushed my ear. It felt unbelievably good. “Trust me.”
He went back to kissing me, pulling me against him to accentuate the way he was grinding into me. I was nervous at first, but he never strayed. At no point did he move toward the buttons on my pants, or on his own. In fact, when I reached for him, he pushed my hands away. “Relax,” he whispered against my lips.
Finally, I did. Maybe we’d have sex. Maybe we wouldn’t. Either way, I was with him. I loved him. So many years I’d held out, waiting for exactly this: a man I trusted, who would take care of me no matter what. I didn’t need to worry. I didn’t need to fend him off or keep saying no. I melted into his arms, and he moaned as I did. His motions sped up, as he continued to thrust against me. His other hand slid up my chest, under my shirt. His fingertip touched my nipple, and I gasped at the pleasure of it. He pushed my shirt up and moved down to tease it with his tongue.
He didn’t have to encourage me anymore. I was grinding against his chest, panting, breathless beneath him. He began to move down my stomach, his tongue and lips moving past my ribs, and I tensed, fearing where he was heading, but he said, “I know the rules.”
That made me want to laugh. We’d basically just agreed that we were going to have sex someday, but he was back to the rules. Oddly, though, this relaxed me.
Don’t think, I cautioned myself, and somehow this time it worked.
He kissed my stomach, down to the waist of my pants, and although he didn’t go an inch farther than my waistband, it made me wild. I couldn’t believe how warm his mouth felt. I couldn’t believe how his tongue on my navel could send such pleasure to my cock. I thrust against him again, and he moaned. He squeezed my ass. His lips nipped at my stomach.
It was exquisite, and I realized with a sudden horror that I was about to come.
“Stop,” I tried to say, but it was like he knew. It was as if he anticipated what I was going to say.
“Let go,” he said.
I did.
It was strange and new and so easy, really, to let that wave of desire crest and break over me. I’d had orgasms of course, but only alone. Never with another man. Even though we were wearing our clothes, it felt amazing. His hand gripped my ass, pulling me in tighter as I arched against him. His mouth locked on to my stomach, sucking and biting. I could feel the vibrations in my flesh as he moaned. His hand stroked my cock, stiff and sticky inside my shorts.
Inside my shorts.
“Oh my God,” I moaned, covering my face with my hands.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, lifting his head, looking alarmed.
“What’s wrong? I just came in my pants like a stupid teenager.”
He grinned. “So what?”
“So, it’s embarrassing, that’s what.”
He gripped my wrist and pulled my hand away from my face so I’d be forced to look at him. He was amused, but I could also see the familiar heat of arousal in his eyes. He definitely wasn’t laughing. “Not embarrassing,” he said. “Hot as hell. So hot I almost came too. But not embarrassing.”
It was, but he made it okay somehow. He made everything okay. I stroked his face. “You didn’t come.”
He winked at me. “I’m not in a hurry.”
He kissed me then, slow and lazy, a winding-down kiss instead of a winding up. He nuzzled me, his lips teasing a path to my ear.
“I’ll get you a key,” he said, nipping at the lobe.
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I want to. But I also want you to know that yes, God I want you so much it hurts, but I want you to be ready. I’m not going to rush you.” His hand skimmed over my now-soft cock, kneading gently against the overly sensitive flesh. “But I’ll admit, I won’t say no to some fooling around.”
Part of me wanted to fool around more right then, to make him come apart the way he’d made me. I couldn’t, though, not at that moment. I was too busy melting into his arms, feeling safe and good and cared for.
Letting go.
I ended up staying at Vinnie’s for dinner that night, partly because I wanted to, partly because my pants were in the wash.
He gave me a pair of sweatpants which I had to cinch as tight as they would go, and even then they hung low on my hips, baring my ass because I was commando underneath them. Vin didn’t seem to mind this at all, finding a lot of excuses to make me get up and cross the room in front of him or to follow me from about ten feet behind.
“You want to order in or go out on your way back home?” he asked.
“What, you’re not going to cook for me?” I teased.
He gave me his cocky half-smile. “If that’s what you want, I will.”
I was tempted to tell him I was kidding, but the idea of Vinnie cooking while I studied at his kitchen table was abruptly very appealing. “Yeah. That’s what I want.”
“Then that’s what you’ll get. You want the stereotypical meal from the Italian guy whose family runs a chain of restaurants, or you want something different?”
“I want whatever you want to cook for me,” I told him.
He made me seared salmon and quinoa salad with kale. I was impressed, especially when it turned out to be amazingly good.
“Rachel is always after me to eat healthier.” He grimaced and put a meaningful hand on his abdomen. “It’s not easy, between my family and having to eat on the fly during jobs. But I do my best.”
“You’re an amazing cook.” I wasn’t much of one myself, spoiled by Gram cooking for me since I could remember.
He grunted in response and focused on his salad, but I could tell my compliment had pleased him.
I helped him clean up, but by this time it was eight, and I began to fidget. I felt like I should be heading home, but I didn’t want to go. At all, I realized. I’d studied plenty, and to be honest knew I should get to bed early for my shift at Full Moon. But it felt so good at Vin’s place. It was quiet. Nobody fought or sat stoned out in front of the television. Nobody was tired.
Plus, he kept looking at me, making me remember coming in his arms. Making me want to do it again.
I glanced at the couch, wondering how I could convince him to sit there with me. I supposed I could just blurt out, Do you want to make out before I go home? but it felt too bold.
He cleared his throat. “Want to watch a little TV?”
Oh. Yeah. That was a good way to get us there. “Yeah,” I said, my voice a little husky. Smiling that half smile, he caught my hand and led me to the sofa. We sat next to each other, so close I was practically in his lap. He stroked my thigh, then reached for the remote.
I caught his wrist and put it back on my thigh.
Our gazes met, heavy with want, burdened by caution and insecurity. I wondered if he was as nervous as I was.
“Vinnie,” I whispered.
He smiled at me, his hand sliding up my thigh. It rose to my waistband—his waistband, because I still wore his sweatpants, even though the dryer had sounded an hour ago. I sucked in my stomach as his fingers stole inside.
“This okay?” he asked.
God, more than okay. I nodded.
His fingers kept skimming against me. “I want to take them off.”
My cock, not exactly quiet, swelled to full attention. “Yes.”
He didn’t move, though, just kept skimming. “Do you want mine off too? Or do you want me to stay in my clothes for now?”
I couldn’t decide. Part of me wanted to keep playing the virginal boy being tutored by the older, wiser man, but I knew he didn’t really have any more experience at this than I did. Not with men, at any rate. “What do you want?”
He’d been watching my face, but now his gaze dipped down. My breath caught, because in that moment I could see the boy that Vin had been, could imagine what he’d been like at twelve, at fourteen, at eighteen. He laughed. “God, I don’t know. Dumb, isn’t it, being nervous and shy when I’ve been married three times? You aren’t even my first guy, not all the way.”
Whoa. I held still. “You fooled around with guys?” Yes, he’d mentioned that during his big confession, and I’d wondered about it, but that certainly hadn’t been the time to ask. “When?”
He shrugged. “In college. Not much. Not often. Just blowjobs and hand jobs, but the blowjobs always made me feel guilty.” His fingers slid to my stomach, under my shirt, and he watched their progression. “I did the hand jobs, but I never gave the blowjobs. Feel like an ass about that now, but I was too scared at the time. Thought it would make me gay.”
The idea of Vinnie giving me a blowjob made my cock ache. The rest of me too, for that matter. I took hold of his hand and gently, insistently, pushed it down to the bulge in my pants. “Maybe you should test the theory.”
He massaged my cock through my pants a few times, watching the action with naked lust before lifting his eyes to mine. “Trey,” he asked, his voice very gruff, “would you like a blowjob?”
I nearly came right there. “Yes.”
My stomach turned over. Excitement tangled with nerves as he caught the edge of my pants, shoving them down over my hips, all the way to my ankles this time. I helped him along, pushing out of them with my feet until I was naked from the waist down. I felt so exposed, so strange, rather vulnerable, but the way Vinnie looked at me, the way he shifted my body, pressing me back into the cushions, spreading my legs so he could see me, the way he caressed the sides of my groin before taking my length in his hand—Vinnie made me forget to be nervous. He just made me hot. Especially when he touched me like that, skimming his hand all the way to the tip, teasing my hole with his thumb. He stroked me a few times, not tentatively, but not rough either.
Then he bent forward and took me in his mouth.
I cried out and grabbed at the couch, because the force of the sensations his wet heat gave me made me dizzy. He didn’t take me in deep. He sucked on the head gently at first, running his tongue around it, then sucking harder as he slid down and took me deeper. And deeper. And deeper.
With a jerk, he coughed and gagged. He lifted his head, his mouth trailing spit as he looked at me apologetically. “Sorry,” he croaked.
He was so sexy, red-faced, mouth swollen as he hovered over my cock, that all I could do was whimper.
He gave me that sideways smile, gripped my base, and went down on me again.
For someone’s first time at sucking cock, he didn’t do badly at all, at least as far as I was concerned. Not that I had any kind of experience to hold it up against. His mouth on my cock felt so amazing I began to think I was an idiot for waiting so long, but every time I looked down at his dark head and caught him glancing up at me, gaze filled with eagerness both for his task and to please me, to please himself, I didn’t regret waiting at all. I was glad he was my first.
Yes, I was glad Vincent Fierro had my cock in his hot mouth, and I couldn’t help it—I thrust into it a few times, shallow at first, then deeper.
He responded enthusiastically. He slid a hand under my ass and pulled me in deeper, though he kept one hand on the base of my cock too, controlling how far into his throat I went. He moaned as I began to thrust faster. His hips bucked against the couch as he sucked me. He sucked hard, like my cock was the thing he’d always wanted in his mouth, and even though I’d come that afternoon, it didn’t take me long before I felt my orgasm building again. I cried out a warning, but he stayed in place and swallowed me down. I collapsed against the arm of the couch, and when I opened my eyes, he was looming over me, looking pleased with himself and happy. His mouth was swollen, like someone had fucked it.
That had been me.
God. Groaning, I pulled his face down to mine and kissed him hard, tasting myself. “Take off your clothes,” I whispered into his mouth.
“I will.” He kissed me deep and long, stroking my sides. “Let’s move to the bed.”
I was wobbly legged when I tried to stand, so he led me to his room and helped me onto the bed. I lay against his pillows and watched as he stripped out of first his shirt and then his jeans. He was gorgeous and olive-skinned all over, with beautiful pectorals and strong arms and legs dark with hair. He was self-conscious of his abdomen, I knew, but I loved that too. He wasn’t washboard, no, but he wasn’t anything to sneeze at. I wanted to lick him up and down and show him how much I liked his body.
He reached for his briefs, and all my attention became fixed there.
His cock was only half-hard as it came into view, dark and thick and rough with hair. I wanted to touch it more than anything, to feel it hot and slick in my hand, to smell it, heady and musty and wonderful. Vinnie. Vinnie’s cock.
Mine. My cock. My first.
I was a sentimental, foolish sap, but as I stared at him, watching him fill out at the sight of me, I wanted him to be my only.
When he came onto the bed, he lay beside me, close but giving me room to touch, to play, to explore. I did. I ran my hands all over him, touching his shoulders, his nipples, his belly, his thighs. I took firm hold of his ass and squeezed, feeling my cock swell at his groan.
I put my hand against his balls. He shut his eyes, trembling.
I slid my hand higher and closed my grip around his length. I began to stroke. And stroke. And stroke.
My hand stuttered, though, and he stayed my wrist. “Lube is in the drawer behind you,” he told me. After kissing him, I rolled away to find it.
I did find it in the drawer. I found something else too.
I lingered a moment, taking in the dildo beside the hefty bottle of lubricant. I remembered what he’d confessed when he’d been drunk. I want you to fuck me. And the porn. That’s what I want you to do to me. The memory made my blood run hotter. I turned around with the lube in my hand and met his gaze.
He knew I’d seen it. I was pretty sure he’d meant me to.
“Anything you want,” he said quietly, the words heavy with meaning. Just the thought of what all that entailed made me whimper.
God, I was so turned on.
I pushed him onto his back without a word and squeezed a generous amount of lubricant into my hand. I’d thought to blow him, but I didn’t want to taste the lube, and anyway, I was pretty sure we were heading into different territory now.
When my slicked-up hand closed over him, he groaned, and the sound fueled me, made me pump him hard and fast right away. I’d never given another man a hand job, but outside of the angle, it wasn’t something I hadn’t done a million times in my life, and especially as Vinnie seemed to like it so much, I didn’t hold anything back. The only problem was that I needed ten pairs of eyes—one to watch his face as it twisted into pleasure, one to watch his pecs as his nipples tightened into hard buds of arousal, one to watch his cock slipping in and out of my hand, one to watch his hips as he thrust them with abandon into my grip.
One set of eyes to watch his balls flap, one to watch his legs parting, letting his hole come into my view.
I want you to fuck me.
I wasn’t going to fuck him today. Nobody was going to fuck anyone today, but there was another milestone I wanted to cross now.
I shifted, taking his cock in my other hand, and moved my slicked-up fingers down to his balls. I massaged them, my own cock pulsing through its weariness as I heard him moan, watched him pull his knees way up, opening himself all the way for me.
I reached lower to circle his entrance, and Vinnie grunted and flexed against my touch.
My whole body aching in want, pulsing with heady power, I pushed the tip of my index finger inside.
I went dizzy again at the rough grunt-sigh he gave as I breached him, and my cock forgot how sore it was as it swelled back to full mast, so turned on by the sight of my finger sliding inside him. Inside Vinnie. It felt like a reversal, a flip of what I’d expected my first time to be, but I loved it all the more for that. I loved him for it. He wasn’t some older, experienced man teaching me the ways of sex. He was Vinnie, exploring sex with me. Letting go, trying new things.
Letting me finger his asshole. I whimpered, biting my lip as I pressed deeper inside, feeling his heat all around me, burning me, spurring me on. Feeling him quake at my invasion. Feeling him let me in, encouraging me.
My finger reached its hilt. I held there a moment, savoring. Then, slowly, I started to move.
He grunted again and pushed against me. His body was so tight around my finger, tighter than I’d ever imagined. I thought of feeling that around my cock, and I moaned. I felt a tiny spurt of precome leak from my tip, ready to go where I was imagining. Someday, that would happen, but for now, I was happy to tease him with my finger, to watch the way he writhed and moaned as I did.
“More,” he whispered, his voice rough. His eyes were shut, his face red, and he pulled his knees to his chest. “More.”
I pulled my finger almost all the way out, added a bit more lube, and pushed back in. This time, I used two fingers.
He groaned in real pain this time, but he urged me on, whispering for me to fuck him, please, fuck him. I complied, pushing into him, past the sphincter, deep into his heat. I felt his prostate and tickled it with my fingertips. He swore and bucked against my hand, begging for more.
My cock throbbed now, filling me with power and need like I’d never known. I hadn’t thought about fucking anyone, not until Vin, but now it was all I wanted to do. Fuck Vin. Fuck Vin. Fuck Vin into his mattress. I thrust hard, fueled by my desire, and he moaned in answer, taking me in. I thrust over and over again until he growled out for more, more, and then I added a third finger, spearing him, spreading him, fucking him with my hand.
He was bucking his hips hard against me. His cock bobbed in front of me, and I fell down on it, taking him into my mouth. The lube was bitter on my tongue for a moment, and then it was gone, washed away by saliva and precome and need. Vin groaned and thrust between my lips as I thrust into him, and I took him eagerly, went into him eagerly.
Mine. My Vincent. My Vinnie. Mine.
He came with a great, rough shudder, and riding my wave of cockiness, I decided to swallow him down. The first spurt of come shocked me, almost gagging me, but then Vin began to gasp and tremble, and I simply worked my throat to catch it all. When he was done, I slid onto his stomach, weak and spent and proud.
I wasn’t a virgin, not anymore.
Nobody had penetrated anyone with a cock, but that wasn’t what counted to me. We’d come with each other. We’d pleasured each other. We’d been naked together not just physically, but emotionally. We’d allowed ourselves to be vulnerable, and we’d come out of it locked together, gasping in shared pleasure. We’d crossed a line, and now we were on the other side, in a place I hadn’t expected to be. Not like this, at any rate, with Vinnie’s ass clenching and unclenching around my fingers as I traced his still slightly gaping hole, knowing I had stretched him, had been inside him. It was he who quaked and shifted beneath me, needing my kisses and touches of reassurance. He gave them back to me too, both of us lost in reassurances, in wonder.
In love.
I felt like we’d discovered a brand-new country together.
One with acres of land left to explore.