Page 21 of A Man To Remember (Skin on Skin #3)

Not for one particular reason, either. Early on, in recovery, it was encouraged, but then, years passed and I just…

I'm not sure, really. It's not like I never wanted to.

Maybe I was scared. Maybe I didn't want to find out if I'm any good when it's just me, with nothing to pump me up, or calm me down, or drown out insecurities.

Maybe I've just gotten used to handling things on my own.

Of course right now I want to strangle that fucking maybe version of myself, or at least tell him to keep a condom in his wallet for good luck, if nothing else.

"Damn. Had I known, I'd have brought some with me, but…" He places a quick, close-mouthed kiss on my lips. "It wasn't on my calendar either."

For a second I think he might do something stupid, like take a step back, so I let go of my cock, and place both hands on his hips to keep him close. Just in case. "Maybe there are other things we can do."

The corners of his eyes crinkle again and his mouth twitches. God, he looks so good when he tries not to smile. "Yeah? Like what?"

I shrug, and it's my turn to fight a smile. "Aren't you the expert?"

Then, he loses our spontaneous game of stupid chicken and laughs first. "Am I?"

His laughter's gone, replaced by a surprised yelp the second I push off the wall, taking his body with me and spinning us around until it's his back that connects with the wall.

Once I have him where I want him, I take a step back, keeping my palms on his chest, making sure he stays in place.

"You know," I start, and once it's clear he's not going to run away, I let my hands roam his chest, cherishing the subtle flex of his muscles through his shirt. "I know I might have jumped the gun earlier, and for all the wrong reasons, but…"

And with that, I let Austin imagine what the rest of the sentence would have been as I slowly drop to my knees for the second time today.

My hands don't shake this time, steady fingers making quick work of undoing his pants. When I push down the zipper, his cock pushes out, as if trying to break free from his underwear.

In the back of my mind, a faint voice reminds me of the gravity of what I'm about to do, supplying doubts and fears and an entire menu of unhelpful thoughts.

But I don't let it grow any louder, don't leave it any room to breathe as I push both layers down, down his thighs, past his knees, all the way down to his ankles.

I focus on what my hands are doing as I help Austin out of his shoes and jeans and boxers, while he takes off his shirt, taking my time, because I know what awaits the moment I look up.

It's not until he's fully naked that I finally lift my gaze to where his cock practically points at my face.

The voice tries to speak up again, but I'm faster, bringing my face closer without a second thought, as I stick out my tongue and flick the tip along his slit, shutting it up once and for all.

He tastes like freedom and sounds like music, a clipped groan falling from his lips at the first contact.

And although I'm so out of my depth I have no idea what I'm doing, one thing's for sure—right now, there's no place I'd rather be.

My gaze lifts and I fix it on Austin’s face as I open my mouth and take the head of his cock in and push forward, taking him as deep as my rookie mouth allows. His eyes are squeezed shut, jaw clenched, nostrils flaring as he breathes, deep and audibly.

And what a fucking sight it is.

I focus on studying him, and let my body do the work I couldn't intellectualize if I tried. My head tilts to the side of its own accord as I back up, lips sliding along his length, slicking it with saliva, before it tilts the other way on its way back.

If I had any doubts whether my first attempt would be sufficient, they're gone now, obliterated by the way Austin sucks in a sharp breath. By the way both his hands land on my shoulders, gripping tight as if he needs my body to keep himself upright.

The backs of my fingers graze his skin, again on autopilot, from his ankle all the way back to the inside of his thigh. Then, with delicate precision, I move to cup his balls, full and heavy, wiggling my fingers and massaging gently as my head bobs back and forth, slowly. Diligently.

It's as though complicated computations are happening deep within me, outside my conscious awareness, letting my body know exactly what to do, what pace to keep, how much pressure to apply.

Like it was made for this.

For him.

I grab the base of his cock with my free hand, keeping it at the right angle, and every time I take him in, my throat relaxes a little more, allowing me to take more of him in, one millimeter at a time.

My own dick throbs so hard I can practically feel it pulsing, leaking steadily, begging for attention. But it won't get any, the rest of my body occupied with Austin, with giving him every last bit of pleasure I can.

I'm moving faster now, following a rhythm my body established, hollowing my cheeks as I suck him, massaging the part of his cock my mouth doesn't know how to handle. Yet.

When I come up for air, letting his dick out of my mouth completely, I stick out my tongue, licking off the fresh bead of pre-cum at the tip. Austin lets out a curse, and when his eyes snap open I have to close mine, the intensity of his gaze suddenly too much to handle.

Freshly oxygenated, I open my mouth again, ready to take him in, ready—desperate—to finish the job, to taste him, to break him apart and piece him back together, but the second my lips connect with the tender, slick skin on the head of his cock, Austin tightens his grip on my shoulders, fingernails biting into my flesh.

"Wait," he pants out above me. "Stop."

I stop moving, but don't let go, forcing my eyelids to lift, and the pleasured grimace on his face nearly makes me come on the spot.

"Why?" I ask, lips brushing against his head as I do. "I want to taste you."

His parted lips curl up into a soft smile. "Trust me."

The gentle tap on my shoulder urges me to rise up, but my body doesn't want to move, not yet. And so I lean down again, giving his cock one more ceremonial lick, earning a fresh moan before I reluctantly get to my feet, my knees protesting as I do.

Once we're face to face and I can feel his hot breath on my face, I repeat, "Why?" whining like a brat whose playtime got cut short.

"Because," Austin says, but before he gives me what ought to be an entirely insufficient reason, he pushes off the wall, places one hand on the small of my back and grabs both our cocks with his other hand, flesh pressed against flesh, barely fitting in his large hand.

"Because," he repeats and I yelp as he squeezes, jerking us both, somehow finding myself walking backward until the back of my knees hit the edge of my mattress. "I want to learn what else you like, and I don't want to be useless when I do it."

"But—"

He swirls his palm over our connected cockheads, shutting me up. "Don't worry. I'm the expert, remember?"

He lets both of us go then and pushes on my sternum, firmly enough to make me lose my balance and topple over until my back lands safely on my mattress. As I fall, my mind races. Because I have questions.

One question, to be exact—what else is there to learn?

I never ask it out loud, but it's answered immediately when Austin follows me onto my bed, knees on either side of my body, and then flips me around like I'm a weightless pancake so that I'm sprawled out, on my stomach, in the middle of my mattress, about to lose what's left of my sanity.

I bite down on a yelp, willing my body not to move, not to shake too much as Austin leans down, torso hovering above my back and all but growls, directly into my ear.

"So now, I'm going to explore. And learn.

" He shifts his body, letting the still-wet head of his cock brush against my crack, and I can no longer suppress the full-body shudder that travels down my spine.

"But Jesse? The second it no longer feels good, the second you want me to stop, you tell me and I'll stop. "

I want to answer, but words are suddenly a foreign concept.

Austin seems to know that. "Nod if you understand."

And so I'm nodding, my sheets scratching my cheek, and for the next few moments, I stop breathing.

Satisfied with my non-answer, he places a series of kisses on the back of my neck, then down my spine, one after another, and the lower he goes, the stiffer my muscles grow.

For a second I find myself feeling out of place.

It's almost as if I'm experiencing this twisted kind of sexual imposter syndrome, something that nags at me and lets me know that maybe, if I'd done some research, watched some porn, read a fucking manual, I wouldn't be overanalyzing exactly which muscle is appropriate to move right now.

But the thought evaporates as quickly as it comes, because no amount of research could have ever prepared me for the raw panic that consumes me when Austin maneuvers his knees between my calves, urging me to spread my legs, wider and wider, as wide as my physique allows me, exposing the parts of me no one has ever really seen before.

"Relax for me," he says, reading me like a book, while making it impossible at the same time.

Because it's impossible to relax when he puts both hands on my ass cheeks.

Impossible when he kneads them.

Impossible when he spreads them apart.

And finally, whatever word comes after impossible when he leans down and uses the tip of his tongue to lick his way from my taint all the way to my hole.

I hiss at the first contact, my eyes squeezing shut, palms fisting the sheets above my head.

It takes great effort not to ask him to stop. Not because I want him to stop, but because a part of me is petrified he'll wake up from whatever spell he's under and realize I'm not worth doing what he's about to do.

But he doesn't wake up. Instead, there's the tip of his tongue again, drawing small, wet circles all around my rim, tasting me, and taking his time to do so.