Page 45

“Hi, Milton,” I greet him when he opens the door.

“Nice to see you again, Liam.” He bows his head slightly, and I really try to smile at him. He’s a very nice man.

The three nights Carter and I have spent here this past week, we’ve eaten a lot better than when we’re at my place. Even having breakfast with my parents two of the three nights we spent there, there’s just no comparison.

“Is Carter already here?”

“No, but I think he’s only a few minutes away. Would you like something to drink?”

“I can get it?—”

“It’s my job. Please allow me.” He’s smiling at me, though I’m not completely sure why.

“All right. Can I have a Coke?”

“Right away.”

I stand there and watch him walk down the hallway to the kitchen. I’ve never been at the brownstone without Carter here, and now I realize it’s nerve-racking.

It feels bad not to go and talk to Milton, but am I supposed to do that? Or avoid it?

I don’t like ignoring people when I’m around them. I prefer to distance myself than to make anyone think I’m purposely not talking to them. That’s rude, and I don’t want to be rude, I?—

The door opening behind me cuts off my spiraling thoughts.

“You’re here.” I sigh and force my cheeks to stretch, but it doesn’t fool Carter.

Another thing I’ve realized about him in the past week is that nothing fools him, but he also doesn’t push me. He does expect honesty from me, though, and since I want the same from him, I don’t mind it. Even though sometimes I feel twitchy when I have to tell him I’m uncomfortable with something.

Like yesterday, when we met at Sculpt before he finished his late shift so we could grab a treat after work. He was talking to an older woman about a sculpture, and when I came in he called my name, and I felt forced to go over there and talk to this stranger who was probably judging me.

Eventually—okay a couple of hours later—I was able to explain that to Carter and he understood it instantly, promised not to put me in such a situation again, and then we both moved on.

So I suppose the twitchiness is worth it.

“Hello, darling,” Carter murmurs and walks right up to me. The kiss he lays on me is brief but perfectly hard. It helps me even more.

I stop him from stepping back by gripping the sides of his shirt tightly .

“I was starting to worry you were going to take too long, and I don’t know how to interact with Milton by myself,” I whisper, blurting out the words as fast as I can.

“No need to worry anymore,” he assures me with a smile. “Let’s go upstairs. I want to tell you something.”

And the worry is back.

“What is it?” I demand.

“I’ll tell you in just a minute?—”

“Carter, you’re home. I’m assuming nothing has changed since your message earlier?” Milton interrupts.

“No, nothing.”

“Here you go, Liam.”

He hands me a can of Coke that’s perfectly chilled.

“Thank you.”

“If you want to eat something later—” Milton starts, but Carter is shaking his head before he’s done. He grabs my hand tightly and starts pulling me to the stairs.

“Don’t worry about us, Milton. I know you’re excited about going to the theatre, so go have fun and we’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

“All right,” he says, but we’re already halfway up the first flight of stairs.

“Carter, what is going on? Are you going to break up with me?”

That’s the only possibility I can think of. At least one that explains his agitation and impatience. But he just kissed me downstairs, so...

“No.” He scoffs and shakes his head while we walk up the second set of stairs. “In fact it’s quite the opposite. ”

I have to think hard about that one. What’s the opposite of breaking up?

The only thing that seems logical is?—

“Are you going to ask me to marry you?”

Carter bursts out laughing and stops right in front of his bedroom, then he turns to me and smiles like Dad does when Liverpool wins a game.

“Of course I’m not asking you to marry me, darling. I wanted to let you know that I want us to have sex, if you’d be agreeable.”

He holds up a plastic bag that I hope contains lube and condoms, then waits patiently with that same smile for me to answer, but it only takes me about five seconds to get a move on.

Now I’m the one pulling on his hand, and the only destination in my mind is the shower.

“I need to get ready. It’ll take me maybe ten minutes?—”

“I’m doing it for you,” he shouts, though I don’t look back to see his expression. But I am getting better every day at interpreting his emotional state by the tone of his voice. He’s stern but not seriously or anything.

And also, it’s not like I’m going to argue.

I hear the sound of the plastic bag hitting the floor right when I open the door to the bathroom.

I turn on the shower and begin getting undressed faster than I ever have.

Honestly, I had no idea when Carter would want to have penetrative sex. I haven’t felt the need to analyze it because the hand jobs and blow jobs we’ve been trading all week have been more than enough for me .

But now, I’m more impatient than ever.

I look up for just a second and stop at the sigh of Carter shirtless. I spring into action and kiss him with everything I’ve got, and continue getting rid of my pants, boxers, and socks with my lips fused to his. He’s doing the same, so it’s sloppy and uncoordinated, but I don’t care.

It’s been years since I’ve had a dick in me, and of course I’m not counting the dildos because they’re just not the same.

Ever since Carter told me he wants to top, I’ve let myself fantasize about what it’ll be like to have him thrusting hard into me.

“Fuck, I can’t wait,” I pant against his lips.

“Me either, darling, so let’s get you ready.” And with that he pushes me gently into the shower, and as soon as the water is cascading over me, he falls to his knees.

It’s a sight I’ll never get used to. Mostly because he really is excellent at sucking me off—surprising, considering his previous stance on his sexuality.

“Open your legs a little, darling, and put your hands on the wall.”

I do as he says, and I’m bent just enough that I know my cheeks are parting, but I can’t see Carter that well.

I can only feel.

And Jesus Christ, his tongue on my dick should be illegal. It’s the kind of pleasure I don’t remember ever feeling before, but now I can’t live without it. I feel his hands splayed on my upper thighs, and then one leaves, then the next.

When he places them on me again, he’s palming my ass and kneading it in that way I’ve noticed he always does .

My theory is that he really likes my ass, and I’ll never complain about doing squats again.

Without any warning, he sucks hard on the head of my cock while simultaneously the tip of one of his fingers probes at my entrance.

“Fuck, Carter, I don’t wanna come yet,” I whine.

I want to have my hand—or his, I’m not picky—wrapped around me while he’s hovering over me, his dick ramming into me as hard as it possibly can.

The visual doesn’t help my impending orgasm, but thankfully Carter pulls his mouth away from my cock and kisses just below my belly button, while his finger circles my rim.

“I love how needy you get, darling.”

I spread my legs wider, praying he speeds things up soon, and when he doesn’t, I thrust back into his touch.

“Just stick it in already,” I growl, and though I don’t know where that came from—I don’t think I’ve ever made that sound before—I get just what I need, which is Carter’s finger halfway up my ass.

At least it feels like it’s halfway.

“You’re tight,” he states in a rough voice.

“It’s been a while,” I confess. “Now pull back and push it back in a couple of times.” He does, and damn, I love that he’s following my instructions. This will all go much faster that way. “Circle your finger around. Yes, but now wider.”

My breaths come out harsher every minute, and I think I’ll leave the lesson about finding my prostate for another time.

“You can use two fingers now.” And when that stretch comes I have to arch my back, hoping he’ll get deeper somehow.

“Oh my god, yes,” I moan. “Do... the same... as before,” I say between bouts of moaning and hard breaths.

It’s only a minute before I know I can take more. “Now three,” I ask like a plea.

All the while, his face is pressed against my stomach, my dick, or my thighs, and though I get the occasional kiss in a random spot, I can tell he’s completely focused on prepping me.

“All right, that’s enough,” I declare and push myself off the wall.

“It’s not enough.” He’s frowning up at me, but I just reach for the shower gel and clean myself up as fast as I can while he stands and does the same.

“You can prep me the rest of the way in bed, and with lube.” I give him a peck on the lips and practically run out of the shower to get dried off.

I’m placing the towel on the bed when he comes out and grabs the plastic bag from the floor.

“Sebas recommended these brands.” He pulls out a box of condoms and a water-based lube, which I think will pair up well.

“Perfect.” I raise one knee and place it on the mattress then crawl to the middle and situate myself so my ass is on top of the towel, then I put my feet flat on the bed and spread my legs.

“Come on,” I urge him. He smiles at me like he thinks I’m adorable—at least that’s the word he used the last time he smiled that way—and crawls over me then leans down to kiss me.

It starts out slower than before, and I love these kinds of kisses from Carter too. They’re sweet and linger on my lips for hours after.

I invade his mouth with my tongue and stroke up and down until he battles for control .

I let him have it, of course. He’s never led me astray.

He leans up and grabs the lube and puts some on two fingers. He seems to have a good handle on what to do now, so I just lie there silently and look at him, focusing on my pleasure. It’s an addicting feeling, knowing he’s doing this for me.