Page 191

He looks around, panicked, then shakes his head. ‘No one’s here.’

Rolling my eyes, I lean in and take a mean, biting kiss. ‘I know,’ I tell him when I pull back. ‘But I’m loud when I fuck.’

His eyes widen in understanding. ‘Are we going to fuck in your food truck?’

I drop my face against his neck and laugh so hard we both shake. ‘No,’ I sign when I pull back. ‘But I want to thank you.’

Hurt blooms all over his face before he can school it away, and I know I’ve said the wrong thing. God, I always say the wrong damn thing. Every ounce of my desire to stay away from this man is gone, replaced by a soul-deep want to keep him around, and I don’t even know him.

My hand trails down his chest, toward his cock. He gasps when I press the heel of my hand against it, then trace a touch all the way back up until I can tip his chin up to look at me. ‘Go out with me.’ I use the sign for date, and he repeats it. I nod. ‘Please,’ I add because I can be polite when I want to be.

His brow furrows in confusion. ‘You don’t like me.’

That was true twenty minutes ago. ‘Go out with me,’ I sign again. He lifts his hands to protest, and I shove them back down. ‘I think I like you now.’

He laughs in surprise. I think he might say no. That’s not the best way to woo a guy, so I probably deserve the rejection. But he seems almost into it. ‘Okay. Where?’

I’m too hard to pull back, so I shrug. ‘We’ll figure it out. Give me your number before you go.’ I don’t give him time to answer. Instead, I rock gently against him. We’re not leaving here without an orgasm. It just won’t be the enthusiastic one I want right now.

Picking up his hand, I press his palm to my lips and hold it there before signing, ‘Keep me quiet.’

His groan is so hard I can feel it. ‘Okay.’

‘Listen for students,’ I instruct, then immediately get to work on his zipper. His cock springs out from the folds of his boxers almost immediately, and it’s even better than I imagined. It’s fat and long, but not in way I know is going to hurt. I’ll still be able to get my mouth around him once we have a bed.

He smells good too—freshly washed with something lightly fragranced and his own musky scent mixed with that tang of precome. My mouth waters. I want to taste him, but I can’t let him drop his hand.

‘You next,’ he signs with his unoccupied hand.

I pull my cock out. It’s fatter than his, and shorter, and pinker. His is a flushed almost purple, and I love the contrast we make when I rub up against him. The sensation sends my head into a spin, and he bites his lip, probably holding back a moan.

I suppose there is some benefit to fucking a guy who can hear. He can keep watch with his ears, and I’ll do my best to get us off without making it look too obvious what we’re up to by any passers-by.

I curl one hand around us. I can’t close my fist, but I have enough grip to keep our cocks pressed together, and then I rock forward just enough for friction. His eyes widen, and his head lolls back as I do it again. I match the rhythm with my hand, up and down, up and down.

I’m so fucking close it’s embarrassing. And though it’s been so long since I’ve done this, I can safely say that it’s not the dry spell that’s making me want him this much. He is so goddamn beautiful. His flush stretches from his cheeks to his ears, and his full lips are half-parted. I can see his pink tongue between his white teeth, and his pupils are so huge they consume almost all of his irises.

I press my fingers to his throat to feel his groan, and they rumble against my skin, barely there as he tries to keep quiet. My hand speeds up again, and my elbow starts to ache, but I keep going because I can tell from the way his dick is pulsing with his rapid heartbeat he’s close too.

‘Come on,’ I mouth against his palm.

He tenses, and my body follows him as we both crash over the edge. I don’t know how loud I am, I just know that he catches all my sounds in his hand. My back bows, and I press hard against the hand he’s got against my mouth, and I come and come and come.

When I get a little sense back into me, there’s a pooling mess between us, and I look up to find his grimace matching mine. His hand’s still against my lips, so I lift my dry hand and curl it around his wrist. His fingers relax, but I don’t let him go right away. Instead, I kiss his palm, then each finger.

I don’t remember if this is the one that crushed the wasp to save me, but it doesn’t matter. He did. I was a dick to him, and he rushed in here in spite of the fact that I was a grown man who should have been able to handle it myself.

‘Hi,’ he mouths.

I lean in and kiss the word off his lips. I feel him moan before he lets me taste him again, and we gentle into soft pecks before pulling apart. ‘Let me clean us up,’ I offer.

It does something to me to stand up and see him sitting there looking well fucked with his limp dick out there, against his dark trousers. Most of the mess hit his shirt, thank God, and I can probably fix the rest.

He doesn’t move. He just waits patiently as I wet a cleaning cloth and have a go at myself before finally kneeling back down beside him. I wipe him up as best I can, then tuck him back into his pants. Our eyes meet again, and I don’t let his gaze go as I zip him back up.

‘A date,’ he signs when I finally sit back on my heels.

Do I still want that now that I’m somewhat satisfied?