After Felix - Lily Morton Page 0,3

relief. “We aim to please,” he mutters.

“We’ll see,” I say briskly before bending and taking the head of his cock into my mouth. I suck on the shiny knob, my mouth watering at the taste of precome. He’s big and wide, and his girth stretches my mouth. It’s fantastic, and I sink into the wonderful headspace that sex gives me where nothing and no one matters—just this.

I take more of him and suck steadily, pulling off every few seconds to blow cool air on his cock and lick the veins that are now standing up.

“Christ,” he says, falling back onto the bed and staring sightlessly at the ceiling. “You’re so good at that.”

I grin at him. “If you think that, wait until you see my party trick.”

“What?” He gives a groan that can probably be heard in the foyer as I relax my throat muscles and take all of him down. This particular trick took me bloody ages to perfect, but all those poor bananas were sacrificed for a good cause. They died in service.

“Oh my fucking Christ,” he shouts and struggles up onto his elbows. He stares at me intently through sexily half-lowered eyelids. “Fuck me,” he breathes as I take him down.

I pause dramatically and then wink at him and swallow.

“Ungh,” he grunts, and then he pushes my head back gently until he leaves my mouth with a gentle pop. I eye his cock avariciously as it gleams wet from my mouth.

“Why did you do that? I could have gone longer,” I inform him.

He groans. “I couldn’t. I was about to come, and then I’d be useless to you.” He grins at me. “So, when you said party trick, I was imagining you making balloon animals. I bet you were a popular boy.”

I smile. “You have no idea what I can do with coloured rubber.”

“I’d love to fuck you. Do you do that?”

I open my eyes wide. “Oh my God, yes. I didn’t come here for afternoon tea. I want a good hard fucking.”

“Where have you been all my life?” he says, grinning at me. He’s gorgeous in the afternoon sunshine, all broad shoulders and long legs, handsome face flushed and intent but still with that glimmer of lazy laughter. It seems to cling to him like magic fairy dust.

I swallow and get back with the programme. “Where are your condoms and lube?” He points to the good old bedside table standby, and I grin. “Get comfortable,” I instruct him, rising to my feet. As I stroll over and open the drawer, I’m aware of his eyes hot on me like a touch.

I grab the condom box and extract one, then tear off the wrapper and palm the slippery circle. “Like what you see?” I ask, picking up the lube bottle and tossing it next to where he’s now lying on the bed, all the long length of him stretched out for my viewing delight.

He fists his cock and strokes while watching me. “I definitely do. I must visit bookshops more often.”

“Ah, I feel I’m giving you unrealistic expectations.” I climb onto the wide bed and knee-walk over to him. I push his hand away and roll on the condom, fisting his length and finishing with a gentle snap. The sound always reminds of the starting pistol to a lovely race. “Maybe avoid bookshops from now on.”

I climb onto him and settle myself down to sit just above his cock. He’s a brilliant mattress, all hard muscles and sleek skin that’s roughened by hair that tickles the inside of my thighs deliciously. I squeeze a dollop of lube into my hand, and he starts to sit up, his stomach muscles contracting in a very distracting manner.

“Let me,” he says.

“Don’t need you to help, thanks. I can do this bit myself.”

“You sure?”

“Of course.”

I really can’t see the attraction in someone else doing this. It’s just fucking. I can get myself ready, and then I know it’s done properly. If a job’s worth doing, it’s worth doing yourself, my dad always said, although I’m pretty sure the homophobic old sod wasn’t thinking of this.

I reach behind me and trace one slippery finger down my crease. I breathe in sharply as it touches the nerve-rich opening. “Mmm,” I say throatily.

“Shit,” he mutters. “Look at you.”

He pumps more lube over his hand, and I groan as he fists my cock and starts to slide his hand up and down, tugging the foreskin down with the movement of his fingers. I pause and