Page 21

Twenty

Knox

I can't believe I’m doing this.

I put the finishing touches on the package—a red bow on the white paper—and shake my head. This is so dumb. I shouldn’t be making grand gestures, but here I am, wrapping a present for Ryder to find when he gets home. I prop the package on the couch facing the front door, where he won't be able to miss it when he gets back from his road trip, and leave for practice.

When I return hours later, I hear music before I even unlock the door. Once I swing it open, the sight that greets me makes my knees weak. Ryder’s ass is in the air as he’s bent fully in half with his head on the floor, his legs spread out to the sides and his hands on his ankles, elbows on his knees. I have the most amazing view of his round ass and the bulge of his cock nestled in the sling of his shorts that are bunched up at his hips to allow for the generous spread of his muscular legs.

“What the fuck are you doing?” I croak, my voice failing me at the view of this magnificent man in such a compromising position.

He opens his eyes and reaches up toward his phone to stop the playlist, but he stays curled in his upside-down position. “Yoga. This is a wide-legged forward fold. It really opens up the hips while stretching my inner thighs and hamstrings.” He walks his hands up his neon green Hydras branded yoga mat and finally rises. He turns his feet to the side, stretches his arms out wide, and bends at the waist over his front leg, touching his front hand to the floor while raising the top arm in the air and twisting his chest forward.

God bless yoga.

I shake my head and close the door because I can’t stand in the doorway gawking at him while he stretches. “Do you do yoga often?” I ask, grateful for a neutral subject that has us kind of talking again after our spectacular blow-up and the lonely silence ever since.

“I do it most days. It’s been good for my flexibility and joints.”

Yeah, no shit. I can see his flexibility isn’t an issue at all as he plants both hands on the mat and moves his feet back, sending his hips up and stretching his back as his chest pushes toward the floor. Once again, his ass is in a tempting position. I have to turn and scurry for the kitchen like the horny dog I am before I do something regrettable, like grab that perfect ass and make it mine. But Ryder isn’t mine. He’s not even comfortable with who he is. I won’t be able to touch him again until he makes up his mind about that; it doesn't feel right.

I noticed the package was missing from the couch, so he must have found it when he came home. I’m dying to know what he thought, but don't want to ask. He might hate it. When I close the refrigerator door after pulling out a water bottle, Ryder is standing right there, making me jump from the unexpected shock.

“Fuck, don't do that.” I gasp, my hand flying to my heart that is galloping in my chest after taking a quick detour around my thoracic cavity, touching my throat and my stomach before making its way back home.

“I found your gift.”

I take a step away from him, turning so I don't have to look at his stupidly handsome face. His beard is a little thicker, and his hair is wild from his yoga session. He looks rugged and sexy, and smells like sweat, and it all turns me on when it shouldn’t. “Glad you found it. Goldie’s been missing you.”

“Getting me a big canvas print of my goldfish when she’s been missing me is kind of backward, but I like it, anyway. It seems fitting to have a picture of my child.” He moves back into my line of sight and runs a hand through his wild waves, brushing the strands out of his eyes that are a deeper hazel, bordering on forest green, today. “I hung it in my bedroom so I can always look at my pretty girl.”

I snort out a laugh. He’s ridiculous about the damn fish, which is why I thought he might like the canvas. “Yeah, well, I got her a tiny canvas of your face and propped it by her tank so she can always see you, too,” I joke. “Goldie's good company when you’re gone. I like her. She keeps to herself and doesn’t make a mess. She’s quiet.” That’s about as much as I can say about missing him as I’m able.

“Do you like my fish more than me, Golden Boy?” He cocks his head and narrows his eyes at me. “You saying I’m messy and loud?” Ryder’s face is intense, and I can’t tell if he’s serious or joking. He steps closer, moving slowly as I back up and hit the counter behind me. “I can be clean.” He places a hand on the counter to the left of my hip. “I can be quiet.” His other hand lands silently on my right side.

What’s this fucker doing now? He’s boxed me in, and his intense eyes are locked on mine as his face inches closer. Is he going to kiss me? He hasn’t even admitted he wants me, and I’m not strong enough to resist him if he does that. I’ll end up breaking my own heart when he pulls away again because he still can’t grasp that he’s bi and has feelings for me that go beyond getting under my skin.

“Ryder, please,” I say softly, begging him to have mercy on me.

But what am I asking, exactly? Do I want him to give me space and leave me alone, going back to his pretend hetero-normative life where I’m just the guy he used to be friends with that’s helping him rehabilitate his image? Or am I asking him to give me a romance novel fuck it moment and close the distance, kiss me savagely, and admit his feelings? Knowing Ryder, that’s not happening.

“I need to show my appreciation for your kind gift. Properly, this time. See, I can learn my lesson,” he says, voice a sexy growl as he begins to lower to his knees in front of me.

I grip his shoulder to stop him. “You don't have to do that. I know you don't actually want—”

Ryder cuts me off when he presses a finger against my lips. “Shh. You deserve this.” When I remain quiet, he pulls his finger away and nods. Then he gets on his knees in front of me.

Holy fucking shit, what is happening right now? This isn’t real. Ryder wouldn't do this. He’s too caught up in his straightness, worried what others will think, to do what I said in anger when he used me, rutting against my ass in what he said was his appreciation when I cooked for him.

But Ryder kneeling before me is a gorgeous sight. He’s so beautiful, his unruly waves framing his sexy, hooded eyes as he looks up at me. He bites his lip as his hands slide up my thighs and ghost over the silky material of my shorts. Goosebumps explode across my skin when he tucks his fingers in the elastic waistband and pulls my shorts and boxer briefs down my thighs. I don’t stop him, I can’t, as his eyes go wide when my cock springs free. I bring a hand up to my face in embarrassment, covering my eyes as my whole body quivers in anticipation and nerves. Watching him see me like this, so vulnerable and exposed and excited for him, is mortifying.

“Eyes on me, Knox,” he says in a commanding tone that leaves no room for argument.

Oh, fucking hell, he did not just say that. I shakily drop my hand and let my eyes meet his. His gaze is steady, burning with lust, needy even, when he leans forward and flattens his tongue against my shaft and licks me from balls to tip. I grip the granite behind me to steady myself when my knees threaten to give out with that one taste he’s taken, not sure how I’ll make it through anymore.

“Fuck,” he says, dragging the word out so it carries a multitude of meanings within the low and gravelly sound. “How can you taste this good?” He doesn't wait for an answer before he licks the sensitive ridge of the crown, brings his hand up to grip my shaft, and swirls his tongue around the head in a way that has me swearing.

“Don't play with me, Ryder,” I say. If he’s teasing me, intending to leave me hard, unfulfilled, and leaking precum, I’ll scream. “Think about what you’re doing and if you’re okay with it.” Fuck, those are the hardest words to say right now, with his tongue learning the taste and shape of me, but I don't want him to do anything he’s uncomfortable with or will regret, and I certainly don’t want him to hold this against me when he’s thinking straight .

“Does this look like I’m playing or not okay with what I’m doing?” he says before he works up a mouthful of saliva, lets it pool over his gorgeous lips, and falls onto my dick, coating the length in his spit, making me moan. He opens his mouth and slides the head and a good portion of my cock straight down his throat before he gags and backs off. It takes him a minute to figure out how much of me he’s comfortable fitting into his mouth, but when he does, he smiles around my cock, and I about lose it right then. What is it about this big, strong, beautiful man with his teasing mouth that just does it for me? I shouldn't want him as much as I do, but I can't stop.

He pries my hand from its death grip on the counter and guides it to his head, a devilish smirk on his lips as he bobs along my cock. I love the feel of his hair in my fingers, and revel in the fact that he wants me to touch him while he does this. A moan slips from him, eyes fluttering shut when my fingers thread through his hair. The sound and the hum of it nearly undo me, and I grip him tighter, trying to hold on. His eyes roll back in bliss, and he sucks harder. Oh. He likes it a little rough.

“I’ve never…” I trail off when he swirls his tongue as his hands twist my shaft, and it’s fucking hard to think as he touches me like that. “No one has ever gone down on me,” I admit, the words exhaled in a shaky rush.

He pops off my dick and looks at me. “Good. You won't know how bad I am because this is the first blowjob I’ve given. Do I get points for my sloppy enthusiasm?” he asks, cheekily.

I scratch his scalp affectionately before I take another handful of his hair and tug his head back. “Baby, you get all the points for even touching my dick.”

His eyes glaze as he looks up at me, a shy smile turning his lips up before he sucks my cock into his mouth with even more gusto. He grips my ass with both hands and works my cock like he has something to prove, even though I just told him I have nothing to compare this to. I tentatively put a little pressure on his head. He blinks up at me and hums in encouragement, so I set a pace that feels good and seems to work for him, too. My hips buck when one of his hands slips down to cup my balls and tug. He keeps doing that, so now I’m fucking his face, my hips joining in as my hand brings his head along my length until he’s gagging. I pull back until I pop out of his mouth.

“Fuck, did I hurt you?” I ask, my hands cupping his face as he gasps.

He laughs. “No, you just have the world's biggest dick, and I have to figure out how to get past my gag reflex to take all of you down my throat,” he says huskily.

“You don't have to do that,” I say quickly.

“Are you kidding me? I want to. If I’m doing this, I’m doing it right and you’re getting the best head of your fucking life. Now, let me relax my throat and swallow that monster dick down the way I want, and don't you stop, even if I gag.”

“What about when I’m close?” I ask, not sure if he wants my cum anywhere near him.

“I’ll tell you when we stop. If I can shotgun a beer, I can swallow your cum. Now, shut the fuck up and let me take that dick like a good boy.”

Oh. My. Fucking. God. I get a full-body shiver of pleasure before my basest urge to fuck his face takes over. Dropping his cheeks, I grasp the base of my cock, feeding the head past his eager lips that latch around me and suck. Threading my fingers into his silky hair, I tug his head back until he moans. I slam my hips forward and let him have me. He braces one hand on my thigh and wraps his other around my base, jacking me as I use him the way he wants me to. His tongue is strong and skillful, moving along my shaft as his cheeks hollow and his eyes widen as he takes even more of my length. I pull back and take what feels good, because I don't need him gagging around me to get off. Everything he does sends shockwaves of rapture ricocheting along my nerve endings, lighting up my synapses, and turning me inside out with pleasure.

“Fuuuck. I knew your mouth had to be good for more than just speaking without thinking and making inappropriate jokes.” I gasp, letting my head fall back, unable to process how this is my reality.

Ryder laughs around my cock and the vibration has me gripping his hair tighter and swearing as he continues his efforts.

I settle in and enjoy Ryder’s mouth on my cock, the juxtaposition of his silky lips and the scratch of his beard against my balls as they slap against his chin, and so many sensations all at once send tingles of awareness and straight-up disbelief that this is even happening careening through my brain. I roll with the rhythm we establish together, my push and his pull, his eyes looking up at me, and his smiles when I moan his name.

“Ryder, I’m so close, baby, I’m gonna come,” I groan, barely able to speak with his mouth on me. He moves both hands to my shaft and rotates them in opposite directions as they move up to meet his incredibly talented mouth, and I lose my damn mind. “Fuck, like that, goddamn, Ryder, yes, baby, please,” I whine, incoherent and babbling as my release grips me, pressure building and my cock swelling. Ryder’s eyes grow wide, but he sucks harder and I explode, cum spilling into his throat as he swallows hard. I keep my eyes on his face, watching in fascination as I come into a man’s mouth for the first time when all I can think is holy shit, it’s Ryder who just sucked me off and made that happen.

I tenderly pet him, combing through his hair and cupping his face as my thumb strokes over his cheek when he lets my cock fall from his mouth and takes gasping breaths. Bracing for what I know is coming, I try to memorize this moment when he’s soft and lovely, and he looks proud for just rocking my entire world. Already I'm preparing for the worst, expecting him to push away and his face to get a look of disgust. I look away from the gorgeous man that’s taken up so many of my thoughts and try to guard my damn soft heart. I let my hands fall away from him and pull my shorts back up.

“That’s harder than I thought, but so fucking worth the effort. I have to give credit to the women who were good at it.”

He doesn't sound like he’s about to lash out. I dare a look at him as he rises, running a thumb along his bottom lip that’s swollen and well-used.

“You okay?” I ask, afraid of the answer.

“My jaw is sore as fuck and I think you knocked a tonsil out of place, but I’m fine.” He slaps me on the ass and turns to head out of the room.

What the fuck just happened? He didn’t freak out, but that is not the reaction I expected, either.