Exciting him all the more, Miguel pushed him against the table. His friend’s actions may have been plain old-fashioned lust, but someone sought him, in the flesh. Not for his monetary assets, but for his ass. “I want my tongue inside your hot mouth.”
He wrapped his right leg around his friend’s tight waist. The warm friendship blanketed them, making him feel desired. He’d never been kissed by anyone but his ex-husband before. This felt different. Real. Mutual.
His buddy tilted his head to the side. Bit by bit, Miguel gazed down over his forehead and finally rested upon his eyes, almost speaking intently, as if saying, I’m going to give you the passion you’ve always wanted. I’ll fill your need.
Miguel brought his tongue to a long-stroked lick over Blake’s bottom lip before plunging into his mouth, deep and hard with a grunting moan.
Breathless as a teenager kissed for the first time, his cock stiffened all over again.
“You’re going to be my niño this week,” he muttered in a thick accent. “All mine.”
Relishing in the forceful kiss, exhilarated in agreement, he forgot the Hell and nightmare he’d been living in and answered, “Yes, I’ll be your boy this week.” Blake wondered how he’d ever be able to walk away from him once the lists were completed. Would they be able to go back to being best friends? More importantly, if he told Miguel the truth, could he keep it a secret?
“I’ve never had a massage in bed.”
His body responded to every touch. “Your shoulders are tense. You anxious?” He pressed his fingers harder, sensing worry between his fingers.
“Watching this erotic movie and straining my eyes to read what they’re saying is stressing me out,” he joked.
Turning his head on the gray pillow, Blake revealed a sweet grin. On his stomach, he stretched out, comfortable in Miguel’s arms. He felt his friend’s entire body go limp. He worked his thumbs down the spine toward his ass and realized he should have a bigger TV. His small screen was from way back. Then again, he wasn’t one for sitcoms or at-home movies. Not when he was in bed with the hottest blonde he’d ever known.
Blake arched his ass upward for him to play with. He spread the buttocks wide with his slippery hands and admired the tight pucker in the center.
“I can’t wait to be inside you.” He settled his cock between the ass cheeks and ground.
“Don’t be. I’ll be gentle.” He wanted to bust his nut inside him right then. Their ten-year sexual build-up was enough to make anyone explode. Blake was worth the wait. One more day and his friend would be his.
“You, gentle?” Blake tightened his ass cheeks and hugged Miguel’s cock as if it were a hot dog enclosed by a bun and said, “Yeah, right.” He shuffled his legs and hands under his frame.
“You’ll see, my bebé. I’ll make you hum.” He finished the session with reflexology to the feet.
Blake never imagined he’d be enjoying BDSM play as much as he was right that second. Especially, considering he hadn’t wanted to come to The Dupree Club in the first place. Man, he was happy he’d changed his mind and stayed. He pushed his buddy to extremes. Unaware these desires existed, he didn’t think they’d feel so good. Once tied up, anal beaded, electricity padded, flogged, whipped, then suspended, though it was strange at first, the discipline might become addictive, nonetheless. Something about being made into a sex object was so fitting. His ex-husband considered him a roommate, bill payer, a means to an end. In no way a submissive bottom—and especially not after Diego crossed over to the dark side, he couldn’t.
His reflection against the mirrored walls motivated him to carry on with Miguel. The muscles he’d worked so hard to build in recent months were being put to the test. Up to the point where his Dom put a fucking cement brick on his back, he’d relished in Miguel’s domination.
Getting sentimental? WTF? He’d forgotten about the lunch with Thor and Vive. They’d warned him that Miguel might’ve put more at stake than he’d realized.
He respected Miguel for letting his true feelings for him out, at long last. But why did he have to be tied up and weighed down to listen? He should’ve confessed his feelings years before.
Or maybe not.
Time gaps flashed in his mind as Miguel walked over to the wall and pulled down more toys. He realized his friend didn’t know how to communicate how he felt. Hell, the man wouldn’t tell him when his birthday was, let alone profess his emotions.
Hmmm. He pondered two questions. One, would he have married Diego if he’d known Miguel wanted him? Two, once married, would he have asked for a divorce sooner if he’d come for him? He didn’t have an answer for either.
He was snapped back to reality by the strident sound of a smacking noise, as if his Dom had put on a rubber glove. Spreading his legs, he glanced between them and asked, “What are you doing?”
Miguel squatted and reached under the table. He pulled out a tub. Crisco. “What does it look like?” Unscrewing the lid, he dipped his rubber-gloved hand in.