Page 66 of Delicious (Delicious #1)
Chapter Six
Mellie
I can’t stop looking in the rearview mirror to be sure he’s still behind me. It’s not making me the safest driver, but luckily, we live in a small town with no major universities or tech industries, so the streets are dead by eight.
And I can relax because he’s there. He’s still there.
He was entirely unbothered by my throwing a twenty down on the table for wasting Fern’s time and taking up space in his section, then dragging him out the front doors and all but shoving him at his car. But I was desperate, damn it. I’m still desperate. The taste of his kiss is on my lips, and it’s all I can do to keep myself chill.
What I want is to rip his clothes off, drop to my knees, and choke on his dick. But I also don’t want to scare him off. God, I should have rubbed one out before I went on the damn date, but I’d been too nervous to get it up. Now, I’m going to shoot off like some hormonal teenager and embarrass myself.
Taking a deep breath, I focus back on the road, and I stay aware of the light behind me as I finally pull onto my street and into my driveway. It fits two cars comfortably, but Rhett pulls to the front of the house instead, and I don’t bother correcting him. We don’t need to waste time on reparking.
My fingers are tingling, itching to touch his bare skin, and though I haven’t eaten since the afternoon, I can’t feel anything but a soul-deep hunger for his body.
The lights on the street are dim, and he’s barely a shadow as he approaches. I can feel the heat coming off his body. He hesitates, then reaches for me. His fingertips graze my jaw, trailing up toward my ear, then down my neck.
I feel a groan ragged against the back of my throat, and in the shadows, I see his mouth lift into a small grin.
“Hi,” I say aloud.
He startles, and I realize he’s probably never heard me speak before. I don’t do it often. At least, not consciously. I know I make a lot of noise when I sign. I vocalize words just because I’ve always been kind of a loud guy in all ways it’s possible to be loud.
It’s probably one of the reasons I haven’t dated hearing guys before now: they get weirded out by it. Only Rhett doesn’t take a step back. He doesn’t stiffen. He doesn’t stare at me like I’m some sideshow freak.
He leans in, and his breath trails over my skin as he lifts his hand and signs, ‘Hi,’ right back.
I press my fingers to his lips, thumb to his neck. “Say.”
“Hi,” he says aloud. I feel the rumbling vibration and the rush of air behind the word and the way the space under his chin bobs with the vowel.
I kiss him. I can’t help it. I want him so badly I fucking ache, and he bustles me against my car, slotting a knee between my spread thighs. He’s shorter than me, but somehow, it feels like he’s towering over me as he devours my lips and tongue.
“Mm.” His hum rumbles across my jaw.
Pulling back, I lift one hand. ‘Inside.’
He nods his fist, then takes my hand and lets me lead him to the door. I have a code—easy to punch in for Otto if he ever wants to come by and raid my fridge, which he does. Often. The door swings open, and we step inside.
It smells clean from my frantic once-over because I know myself. I knew I was going to ask him to come back with me if the date went well, and I had been determined to make the date go well. I mopped for the first time in, like, a month, and I even dusted with the weird lavender-smelling wipes my brother made from one of his harvests he planted for his bees.
Rhett and I both slip out of our shoes, and I watch him take a few steps into the foyer and look around. It’s not the largest place. A quaint little two bedroom I got from a foreclosure auction that needed a few grand in repairs.
It’s not the best, but it’s mine, and that’s all I really care about.
I lift my hands to welcome him inside, but before I can even begin to form words, he’s on me again. He presses me gently to the wall with one hand beside my head, the other just high enough for me to see him ask, ‘Okay?’
Ha . There are no words for how okay this is. I mean, it’s kind of a role reversal a bit, but I’m into it. I tilt my head back, and he lifts up on his toes again to kiss me. My knees go weak, and my dick gets hard, and I find myself rocking forward against him.
He meets me halfway into the thrust, and I moan as the friction of our cocks hits just right. ‘Please,’ I sign quickly, desperately. ‘Please. Bed.’
He laughs, and his face is somehow even more beautiful with his smile. He nods. ‘Show me.’
I kiss him for that, then grab him by the front of his shirt and haul him through the living room and past the double doors of my bedroom. It’s the larger of the two, and the messiest room in the house. I’m not sure I’ve ever made a bed in my life, but I straightened the covers a bit, and I did pick up my dirty clothes, so that’s progress.
He takes a cursory glance around, then spins us and shoves me backward. My knees hit the mattress, and I collapse on my ass. With wide eyes, I take him in as he peels away his shirt and unbuttons his pants. A single slide of a zipper, and his cock is out. It’s thick again, flushed, leaking at the tip.
I want to feel it in my mouth as much as I want to feel it in my ass.
‘Bottom or top?’ he asks.
Bold of him. I smirk and shrug. ‘Either. I’m not picky.’
His smile widens, and he closes the distance between us before dropping to his knees. It’s like he read my mind and stole all my moves, the fucker. And God, I love it. He looks up at me with doe eyes, like he’s waiting for me to order him around.
‘What do you want to do with me?’
My body gives a single heavy shudder. I have so many ideas. Ideas that will take years. ’Til we’re old and crotchety with no memory, taking little yellow pills so we can get through the list. My tongue darts over my bottom lip.
‘Suck me.’
He nods, and then his hands go for my jeans. Before I can help him, he’s got them pooled around my ankles, along with my boxers, and my dick in his hand. His gaze is fixed on where he’s holding me, stroking me too slow and too soft. The pleasure is almost pain with how tender it is, and I make a soft noise, hoping it sounds pleading instead of angry.
It must because he laughs a little, then meets my gaze as he parts his lips and takes the tip between them. His tongue swirls around it, dipping into my slit, and my eyes slam shut. Fuck, I cannot look at him. I can picture myself coming all over his face, and I don’t want this to be over so soon.
He taps my thigh, and I’m forced to look down. ‘Condoms?’
‘I’ve been tested negative,’ I tell him. ‘I don’t have any.’ Fuck, if he has to stop this…
‘None,’ he signs, then points to himself. But he doesn’t look deterred. ‘You can bottom tomorrow after we take a trip to CVS. Tonight, I’ll suck you off, and then you can let me come on your stomach.’
Oh, fuck.
‘Yes,’ my fist nods, too stiff and jerky.
He laughs again, but he’s not laughing at me. His cheeks are as flushed as mine feel, and he stares at me like a starving man in front of a feast. I gesture to my dick, and he grins wider before he gets to work.
He takes my dick all the way to the back of his throat. I feel him choke a little, his throat going tight around me, but he doesn’t pull back. He gives a long, hard suck like he’s trying to pull the orgasm straight from my balls.
My breath heaves in my chest, and my fingers fly to his hair. I must be making the most god-awful sounds, but it only seems to spur him on because he lets me guide his head in a sharp, fast rhythm. And he never breaks suction. I feel him breathing hard out of his nose, but his gaze keeps looking up to try and find mine.
He has spit pooling in the corners of his mouth, and he’s flushed all over. He looks fucking wrecked, and I did it. I did this to him. I took this pretty, pretty man and messed him all up.
My balls go tight, and I attempt a noise of warning. He must know because he braces himself, but he doesn’t pull back. He lets me come down his throat in hot pulses, swallowing every few pumps until he’s left suckling on the last dribbles coming from the head.
He licks me clean as he pulls away, then primly dabs the corners of his mouth. His lips are swollen, his eyes glazed over, his hair a damn wreck from where I pulled it. And for some unknown reason, he looks thrilled.
‘Okay?’
He laughs at that, and yeah, I probably deserve it. Climbing to his feet, Rhett shimmies out of his jeans, then lets his own boxers fall to his feet. He steps out of them with a grace I’m not sure I will ever have, and then he spreads his legs over mine and sits on my thighs.
I feel weak from having all my remaining sense sucked out through my cock, but I manage to hold him. He grins down at me, tipping my head back with a slight tug on my hair, and then he kisses me. He shares the taste of my release—sour and salty and musky. His tongue swirls around my mouth, and then he pulls back and kisses along my jaw.
His free hand moves between us, and he begins to stroke himself. For the first time ever, I understand when I see people type “fap, fap, fap.” I have never heard it. It’s one of those…fuck, I can never remember it—it’s a thing we learned in school that most of the kids in my class didn’t get because we were all either born Deaf or lost hearing early. Onomato-something. Where the written word is like how it sounds to the ear.
I get it now. I feel the hard slap of his hand on his dick as he drags himself over the edge. Bam bam bam.
Fap fap fap.
Skin against skin, almost violent in the way he wants to finish. I groan softly as he uses a firm grip to tilt my head to the side, and then I feel a sharp sting as he licks the wasp stings. I gasp, and his hand speeds up. His mouth gentles as it moves away from them. He tilts my head the other way, then sinks his teeth into my skin right over my pulse, and as I see stars, I feel hot ropes of come hitting me in the stomach and chest.
His groan drifts from his lips to my skin. It’s a whole-body experience, and Jesus, I think I might be in love. Which is nuts. There’s no way.
And then I pull back and look at him and think maybe not yet, but soon. This is something. He’s someone.
‘Hi,’ he mouths.
I laugh quietly, then pull him close and kiss him until I can’t breathe. Mine, I think to myself. Maybe if I’m brave enough soon, I’ll tell him that. And maybe, if I’m lucky enough, he’ll say it right back.