Tell Me It's Real(94)

Keeping his right hand behind my head, he took his left and gripped my face, his palm against my chin, his fingers splayed out across my face. He squeezed gently and leaned forward and kissed me. I tried to respond to the touch, but he pulled away. Then he kissed me again and pulled away. And again.

And it was about that time that I realized that I wanted to fuck. I wanted to fuck like I’d never fucked before, and I wanted to do it now. I was done with gentle touches and wicked games. I couldn’t help but snarl in his hand. I reached out and gripped his waist, spinning us until we’d traded places, his back against the wall, me standing in front of him. But I wasn’t some fucking jerk who dragged out foreplay. Forgetting where I was and who I was, I pressed up against him, grinding my dick into his, marveling at the fact that he was just as hard as I was. He moaned, but I caught it in a kiss, letting it cross into me as I sucked on his tongue, chasing it with my own. If I wasn’t careful, I was going to shoot right there in my jeans, something I’d never done before.

“Wanna get out of here?” I asked as I pulled away from his mouth.

“Why, Paul,” he laughed, sounding out of breath, “I don’t know what kind of boy you take me for.”

Feeling daring, I said, “One who is about to get very, very lucky.”

He grinned. “Oh? Is that so?”

“That is so.”

“Well, far be it for me to say no to getting lucky.”

“You don’t seem like the type to say no to that.” I winced inwardly as I realized how that sounded. Calling someone a slut is not sexy talk. I had a feeling that it was about to get awkward.

He arched an eyebrow. “Is that your way of seducing me? Compliments?”

“That’s not really what I meant to say.” The sexiness was leaving very quickly. “What I meant to say was that I like being pressed up against you.”

He chuckled. “Do you?”

I scowled. “You’re mocking me, aren’t you?”

“Sort of.” He leaned in and kissed me again, really just a peck. Like we were friends. The sexiness was almost gone.

“That’s great,” I sighed, starting to take a step back.

But he stopped me before I could. He grabbed me around my waist and pulled me back into him until were pressed together head to toe. Being almost the same height had its advantages, especially when I could tell he still had a hard dick. “Tell you what we’re going to do,” he said, his forehead against mine, a wicked curl to his lips. “We’re going to leave here. We’re going to go back to my apartment since it’s closer. And then I’m going to fuck you through the mattress. Or through the wall. I haven’t decided yet. Maybe we’ll do both. That sound okay with you, Paul?”

And the sexiness returned rather quickly with that pronouncement, and I spoke before I could think. “That sounds awesome. Let’s go do that—”

“Paul Auster, hiding in a corner pressing against some sexy man? As I live and breathe, I never thought I’d see the day.”

“Oh sweat balls,” I groaned, not wanting to turn around and see Helena’s smirk.

“If either one of your hands is down the other’s pants, I ask that you refrain from continuing your jack-off sesh, at least for the moment. Afterwards, you may continue with my blessing. And my participation, if necessary. I’m sure Vince has always wanted to try the queen-sized version.”

Vince chuckled as I growled. “No jack-off sesh,” he said. “Not yet.”

Once I was sure I wouldn’t stab anyone in the thigh with my erection, I turned and glared at Helena, who watched me with undisguised amusement, a red riding crop in one hand, slapping it against the other. She was dressed for her rodeo dominatrix routine, complete with these killer black thigh boots that zipped up the sides and had spurs and sparkly fringe. She gave me a quick once-over before her eyes landed on my neck. “Paul? Darling?”

“Yes?”

“You seem to have a hickey.”

I blushed, lifting my hand to cover the spot. “That’s not a hickey,” I told her. “I burned myself on my hair curler trying to curl my neck hairs before we came out.”

“It’s a hickey,” Vince assured her. “I gave it to him.”

She eyed him. “Did you now? Impressive, considering I don’t think Paul’s ever had a hickey in his life. Disrupts his perfectly ordered world. My, oh my. The tongues shall be wagging at work on Monday.”

Showing up to work on Monday with a hickey on my neck was not the best idea in the world, until I thought about that slut Tad seeing it. Then it felt like a badge of honor and I wanted Vince to give them to me all over my face until it looked like I had been beaten by tiny fists.