The prolonged anticipation of having to wait all day to see Diego was almost unbearable. The mere thought of that man made me hard. My body craved him like Lex did her Yoo-hoo beverage. I hoped he felt the same way about me.
He had to. Right? That kiss and then the text where he stated he was thinking about me had made my heart melt.
I’d texted in advance letting him know when to expect me. And even though I had changed my clothes three times from casual to hip then back to casual, I was still a few minutes early. I was more excited than nervous to see him again.
Greeting me at the door, wearing sweat pants and a wife-beater, Diego put one of his muscular arms against the doorframe, revealing an armpit. A hot, sexy please-let-me-lick-it armpit at that.
Slowly, as if taking his time, he looked me over seductively, causing my stomach to flutter and my chest to expand.
Something intense, almost dirty, flared between us. I adjusted myself.
My senses reeled as if short-circuiting. I was totally entranced by his compelling personage. I didn’t know what to say. Realizing it was winter, I licked my lips a few times then asked, “Aren’t…‘ya cold in that?”
“Do I look like it?” he asked in confidence, a wide grin on his lips as if already knowing he was steaming lust and fire from every pore of his body. Even the mere sparkle in his eyes utterly turned me on.
Staring back at him with a longing I couldn’t hide any longer, I studied his lean, dark-skinned face before replying, “No. You look hot.” Once the admission released from my lips, I caught my breath in my throat, straightened my shoulders, and muttered, “You gonna let me in?”
“Sí,” he agreed and stepped back, letting me into the room. The sexy blue rope was on the nightstand.
The lights were dim.
Almost as if photographing his dick, my eyes went straight for his crotch. I wanted to remember the moment—Diego’s male beauty, his very presence with mine, the two of us alone—for forever. Under the sheer jersey cotton fabric, I could make out the shape of his thick, apparently hard, and somewhat c-shaped into a perfect upward curve of a penis.
Long and snake-like, the dude was hung as if there was a garden hose in his pants.
Swallowing the knot in my throat, I realized my own dick was swelling fast. Hard as a rock, there was an ache for release as I’d never experienced before.
I cleared my throat, pretending not to be affected by the mere thought of giving him a blow job. Good Lord, I wanted to drop to my knees and suck him like a baby calf to a mother’s milk.
As I adjusted myself again, for the umpteenth time, I felt dampness on the front of my pants.
Utterly compelling, his magnetism was so potent I could get drunk just by looking at him. Clearly my body couldn’t control itself.
“And?” He came over and straddled my legs, curled himself into the curve of my body. Then his sexy mouth descended to meet mine, first slowly, drugging those lips until our tongues danced.
With a lightness in my chest, my lips burned in the aftermath of his kiss. Damn, he’s good. Gasping in delight, I reached for his hand and embraced the adrenaline rush of being with him. The stroke of his skin sent erotic jolts through every part of my body. There was a dreamy intimacy between us, as if everything was standing still. Except for my heart. That was beating at a zillion pulses a second.
Wet. His mouth covered mine hungrily as we tongued all over again.
Fuuuck. I curled my toes. A delightful shiver of wanting ran through me. I was going to cum in my pants. Any second now. Air, I need to breathe. Instinctively my hand came up to his chest, begging for a minute.
Filled with desire to know, my pulse quickened as I demanded, “Tell me why you have the rope…”
“I like to use it when I’m having sex.” His mouth grazed my earlobe.
Hearing that made my heart thump erratically. I bit down on my lower lip before asking, “Do you get tied up or do they?” When he didn’t give me an answer, I pressed my open lips to his and murmured, “Tell…me.”
“Usually, they do.” He kissed the sensitive spot of my neck. “I like the power it gives me, having someone helpless under my body. I’m in complete control of them.” A series of slow kisses all over my entire face ensued. It sent a shiver up and down my spine until he rested his lips against my scar, kissing it…twice.
“Does that hurt?” he asked.
Shaking my head, I replied, “The doctors told me I have nerve damage. Mostly, it just feels numb.” Self-conscious, my gaze fell on the floor.
“Hey, guapo…look at me.” He grabbed my chin, his brown eyes flickering with intent. “Let me see your smile.”
My face must’ve been bright red, because I felt embarrassed. I grinned back at him.
“There you go, guapo. You are a beautiful man.” His lips brushed my scar.
Drugged by his compliments, feeling a bit more self-confident, I muttered, “Thanks,” and kissed him back. We took our time getting to know every square inch of each other’s flesh. Curious to see what all that control would feel like, I confessed, “I want to tie you up.”
“The power.” My emotions skittered. “Lately, my life has been sorta slipping through my hands—”
“So…you tying me up will help balance you out?”
“Maybe.” My consciousness seemed to ebb and then the burning desire to fuck him took over, more than ever. “Have you ever been tied up before?”
“No. Like I said, usually I do all the tying.”
My lips curved down into a frown.
“Yes?” My voice went up an octave.
“I’m willing to bottom for you, so I might as well let you tie me up.”
“Really?” My eyes blinked.
“Good. Very good.”
His muscular arms came wide. He peeled off his cotton tank, revealing his gorgeous chest. Perfectly sculpted. His nipples, like two blackberries, stared back at me, persuading to be tasted, sucked, and played with.
“Lick my pecs, guapo,” he panted, grabbing on to my face, pulling my lips onto his flesh. “They’re sensitive. My nips go straight to my dick. You touch them and I get hard. Sí.”
Such knowledge could be perilous. He struck a vibrant chord in me…
I stuck my tongue out a bit and licked, once, twice. My teeth caught on the edge of his right nipple as I gave it a slight tug. His tormented groan was a heady invitation to keep going. And so I grazed my tongue across his smooth chest and continued the licking, biting playfully on his other pec. His body shivered in my arms. I liked how vulnerable he was becoming. There was something alluring about the man, being so muscular and masculine, and yet willing to let me have my way with him.
I had no power over all the crazy shit going on in my life. But in Diego’s bed, I had a sense of control. I needed that. If only for one night. It felt new and different to me, and I intended to enjoy every minute.
He pulled my shirt up. Holding onto his shoulders, I stood. With a projected energy and power which attracted me to him, he yanked my pants and then my underwear down.
Being naked in front of him, I didn’t feel as vulnerable as I thought I would. If anything, my excitement only continued to climb.
And then he…stroked…my dick.
“Guapo, you like that?” he murmured, fisting his hands over my erection.
“Ah-huh,” I replied in a husky whisper.
Hard, my shaft thickened in his hands. The way he manhandled me felt hot, too. His palms were callus and rough but with my dick, he was almost gentle. He rubbed the bare skin, admiring the mushroom head of my penis.
Staring up at me, his chest rose as he moaned, “I’m going to get your cock nice and wet. Then you’re going…to tie me up.”
“Start sucking, papi,” I said in a throaty voice and lost myself in his mouth. Getting more turned on by the second as he gave me oral pleasure, becoming sensitive to his every touch, my nipples tightened.
I didn’t know who I was or what the frick I was doing. It was as if I was having an out-of-body experience. I was no longer Blake Morgan III, Fairfield native, Avon Porter graduate, and Columbia University student.
I was guapo, the raging dominant and soon-to-be top aficionado of all things ass.
Tugging at my balls, his head jerked back and forth. Getting into a rhythm, he rotated his attention from the tip of my dick to my shaft.
Waves of pleasure throbbed through me. The warmth of his hot flesh was amazing.
He reached for the rope from the nightstand and instructed in sweet agony, “Tie me up.” And spread out on his back.
Climbing on top of him, I placed his hands near the headrest. Taking his right hand in mine, I recalled my good ‘ol Boy Scout days of knots and wrapped the blue rope once, twice, around his wrist. Then I pulled his arm up a bit.