Page 16 of Kiss-Fist (Deaf Hearts #1)

CHAPTER NINE

ROBBIE

The meeting with the Realtor went much easier than I expected, and to be honest, it’s a bit of a relief to have something in the pipeline.

Plus, I had the concept of a plan. Mostly.

So I signed the contract, and now it’s nothing more than a waiting game of hoping an offer gets accepted, praying the costs for repairs aren’t going to be through the roof, and that I don’t have buyer’s remorse when it’s all said and done.

So, you know. Easy stuff.

Now, I’m back at home, all alone. Rhett is with Mellie, leaving me to stare at my phone.

I should absolutely not text Thom. I should not proposition him.

He deserves better.

I deserve better.

Actually, no, I’m not sure I do. I haven’t spent my life being the kindest person. I’m kind of a dick on a good day, which is a sharp contrast to Thom’s perpetual sunshine. He deserves someone who can match that. Someone who is kinder. Tender. Easy to love.

That is not me, which is fine because all I’m ever going to propose is something physical. There will be no proposals or marriage or anything serious.

I simply want to kiss him, suck his cock, and maybe let him throw me around the room a little.

So when my fingers message him almost exactly that, without my consent, my stomach tries to crawl up through my throat and out of my mouth. I’m a nervous wreck as I wait for his answer.

And of course, he doesn’t respond for ages. He’s doing it to torture me, I swear to god. This waiting game makes me sweat. This is worse than when I had to defend my dissertation.

Fuck, I shouldn’t have messaged. I’m going to chop my fingers off and flush them down the toilet. I’ll be glad they’re gone.

My eyes take them in, and I sigh. Can’t do that now, can I? My ears don’t work, so I have to have fingers to communicate.

Annoying. Really unpleasant, if you ask me.

I head into the kitchen and pull open cabinets, trying to figure out what I can do to keep myself busy until he responds. A large bottle of vodka winks at me.

Drink me, you fingerless bitch.

I pour myself a glass, adding some soda to it to make it go down easier .

Shit. I shouldn’t have texted that I wanted him to throw me around my apartment.

Really should have been more subtle. A whole metric ton subtler.

Is that even a word?

Fuck English. Fuck it all.

I groan as I swallow a small mouthful of the liquid and then move out onto my balcony. It’s cool outside, but the sun is peeking through the afternoon clouds, and it warms me. That and the alcohol I’m consuming at four o’clock.

Damn fingers.

Damn vodka bottle seducing me.

I glance down at my phone and wince when I see that my rogue digits also sent two emojis to Thom. Rhett and Mellie have unjustly influenced me. A water emoji and a red circle laugh up at me.

I’m disgusting. I’ve lost my damn mind.

I take another sip and set the still-full glass on my leg, staring out into the distance, hoping to be distracted from my mental anguish.

The neighbor right across from me tends to get up to the weirdest things.

One time, he was wearing a clown nose and dusting his plants.

Sadly, right now, he’s not doing anything odd. Go figure.

My phone buzzes against my thigh, and I jerk, my drink spilling all down my pants.

I gasp at the coolness as my fingers fumble with my phone, trying to see who messaged.

Oh shit. It’s Thom. He responded.

Just in emojis .

I have no idea what they mean. What does a brick have to do with throwing me around? And a policeman? Toilet paper? Shit, is he going to have me arrested for propositioning him? Is he going to try and flush me down the toilet?

I would deserve it. I seriously would. I’m a fiend.

I sit there for far too long, trying to figure out what those emojis mean when the light above my door flashes. Turning, I stand up, and the drink I set on the table next to me is knocked to the ground. It rolls away from me, and I stub my toe as I rush to answer it.

As it swings open, I realize my pants are still wet.

And Thom is right there, looking freshly showered and smelling fucking delicious. I’m so overcome I don’t even bother to wonder how the fuck he got my address. The only thing that matters is that he’s here. He’s standing in front of me, looking at me like he’s starving.

His tongue peeks out and wets his lips. My eyes track the movement, and I feel myself heat from the inside out. I’m turning into a microwave.

Stepping back, he follows me, moving closer as I let him all the way inside. My head swims, probably more from him than the vodka I’d been sipping. Especially considering most of it ended up on my pants. And oh god, it looks like I’ve pissed myself, doesn’t it?

I glance down to see the wet spot on my thigh, then back up at him. He’s grinning, his eyes almost literally twinkling at me.

Shit, I’m drunk off him , and he hasn’t even kissed me yet.

He’s addicting. A very, very bad habit .

The door closes behind us, and I see him flick the lock. I guess we’re not making the same mistake twice, which I appreciate. I don’t want another cock-block. I want him .

A groan escapes my parted lips, and we both move at the same time. His mouth crashes into mine, his tongue pushing inside me. A moan slips from my chest, vibrating against him. He swallows the sound of it down as his fingers grab my ass, pulling me into him.

I can feel how hard he is for me. He must know by now how much he affects me.

My hands paw at his shirt, and a moment later, he pulls away and yanks it over his head.

Fuck . Yes .

He’s glorious . All those muscles, that six-pack. I want to get on my knees and worship him. I bow at the altar of his dick. I’ll say my prayers to it every night. Sign hymns with poetic, dancing movements of my hands. He deserves nothing less.

His mouth falls on mine once more as he lifts me off the ground.

Just like I requested in my text.

God have mercy on my soul.

He walks me backward as if I weigh nothing, then pushes me against the wall. My legs wrap around his waist as he grinds up against me. Oh Christ. I’ve died and gone to heaven.

I can feel how desperate he is for it, for me. He has to know how much I want this.

We are a Deaf man and a hearing one, barely able to communicate beyond the physical .

And fuck , this is so physical.

Absolutely Olympic at this point.

His lips move from mine to my neck, nibbling on my skin. His hips continue to rock back and forth, driving me crazy. But I do nothing to stop him. Just let him suspend me against the wall and torture me.

It goes on forever, bringing me so close to the edge that I worry I’m going to come in my pants, but he pulls away before I get close, setting me on the ground. My knees are shaking as he lifts his hand and points to my body and signs one word.

‘Off.’

Oh. He wants me naked. I can do that. I so can do that.

My trembling hands grab onto my shirt, pulling it over my head as Thom shucks his shorts and underwear down his legs, kicking them to the side. Then he’s standing there in only a pair of ankle socks.

Does he really have to be this hot? Who knew I’d be so into socks.

I move faster, nearly falling over as I try to undo my pants, but I’m shaking so badly that I can’t quite manage it.

So, in very Thom-like fashion, he drops to his knees before me and helps. I’m naked in record time. I swear, he must train for this.

I ponder that a moment, but the thought is fleeting as he slides his fingers up my thighs and drags his tongue up my cock.

I buck forward, making a god-awful sound. I can’t hear it, of course, but I know it’s terrible. The worst sound on Earth .

Thom peers up at me with those big blue eyes and grins. His lips pucker, kissing the tip of my wet dick, and then without warning, he pulls me right into the back of his throat. I gurgle and gasp, my hands searching for purchase, but he has that damn hat on.

I flick it off and let my fingers slide through his thick locks, using him for leverage to keep myself from toppling over. Thom doesn’t slow down either. He just holds me inside of his throat, and I feel the ripple of his esophagus as he swallows.

It’s so fucking hot that I damn near pass out for a second before blinking back to reality.

As I come to, I realize he’s pulled off me, his lips wet, spit trickling down his chin. His free hand cups my balls, while the other holds on to my ass cheek.

“More?” he mouths, and I nod so quickly my teeth rattle.

He doesn’t seem to notice. Just falls back onto my dick and I’m once again holding on for dear life as he does that thing with my cock and his throat. And holy hell, he’s massaging my balls at the same time.

He’s a magician. A fucking marvel.

When his finger hits my hole and presses against it, it’s game over for me.

I thrust forward roughly and cry out, my release emptying into his mouth.

It’s so much that he can’t swallow it all, and some of it dribbles down his chin and neck.

I watch it all, the mess I just made, the way he just sits there, licking his lips.

His expression is telling me he’s never tasted anything better.

He doesn’t clean up either, just nuzzles his nose into my groin and inhales, leaving his face there as I card my fingers through his hair.

I need to return the favor. I need to do…something. But before I can, he’s standing and picking me up, bringing me to the sofa and throwing me onto it. I bounce slightly, my half-hard cock perking up at being tossed around a room.

Thom looms over me, and he signs something, but it takes a moment for my brain to get back online enough to understand him.

He signs it a second time. ‘ Delicious .’

Oh . I blush as he continues to stare at me.

‘More?’

I nod, and he bites his lip, but he doesn’t move. The moment turns a little awkward as I just lie there, waiting. It takes an embarrassingly long amount of time to realize he’s waiting for me to make a move. To tell him what to do.