Dangerously Happy (6 page)

And then he gave it to me, again the pressure of his finger, a teasing rubbing at first, then that honing in, that slow push and forced dilation of that tightly closed aperture, the gradual penetration, but this time the strain was much more, as if he were putting something much larger inside of me.

“
Wait,” I gasped, my voice strained with panic. Immediately (though slowly and gently) he withdrew whatever he’d been trying to push up my ass, and then took his mouth from my cock. He looked up at me with a calm patience which struck me almost like mockery of my panic, but just for a second. I knew he was being kind. Sweet. “I’m sorry,” I said, “whatever it is, it’s too much.”

“
Did I hurt you?”

Honestly, it had been uncomfortable. And suddenly I’d gotten scared of what I was about to feel. “No. But it’s too much.”

He grinned, and lifted his hand, his index and middle finger extended. I felt my face go hot again, and had a flash of terror that his fingers would be dirty from being up there, but they were just pink and shiny with lube. “Trust me, this isn’t too much.” God, he sounded aroused. To prove his point, still grinning, he put those two extended fingers next to his stiff, swollen cock, which in circumference was at least twice that of the two fingers. Twice the length, too. At least. I was suddenly a hundred percent sure I would never, never let him fuck me. There was no way. No way on earth.

“
I know you’re nervous. I know it’s new for you. But you were enjoying it, weren’t you?”

“
Before, with one finger, yes.”

“
Well, we can stick with that if you want. But if you’ll try to relax, and really trust me, I promise it won’t hurt. I promise,” he said, “that you won’t believe how hard you’re going to come. There’s nothing like it.”

It wasn’t the promise of the mega orgasm. Mostly, it was how turned on he sounded and looked as he said it, how aroused he seemed to be by the idea of doing that to me, making me come with his lips gripping my cock and his fingers up inside of me that made me willing to try again, even though I was frankly skeptical that I’d be able to handle it. But I knew he’d stop again if I told him to, so I gave him a not very eager, “Alright. I’ll try.”

This time he didn’t suck me while he did it. He knelt there, gazing down at me, his expression all gentle empathy, his face almost beatific as he put a fat blob of lube on his fingertips, then he bent over me, kissed me deeply, slowly, but only briefly, then he lifted his head a little and watched me as he started teasing my hole again, rubbing, then just pushing one fingertip in a little way, then rubbing again until the sensation started to make me squirm with a feeling that was somewhere between a thrilling irritation and pleasure. But then the pressure intensified and I felt my hole being stretched to the limit again, and I heard myself let out a startled, frightened little cry.

“
Am I hurting you?” he asked, his voice low and gentle.

“
I just, I don’t think I like it.”

“
We haven’t gotten to the part that feels best. Would you try something for me? Bear down a little. So you’re pushing against my fingers.”

When I tried it, he smiled, and I felt his fingers sliding up inside of me. “Better, baby?” he purred.

“
Maybe.”

He kissed me, tasting of my cock, while he pulled out a little, then pushed his fingers deeper into me, his tongue playing with mine, his fingers slowly sliding in and out, and then he rose up again to look at me, and however I was looking at that moment made him smile.

“
That’s so good,” he sighed, then sank down on my cock again, sucking me to the brink of orgasm in a matter of seconds while he started doing something with those fingers up inside of me, so that when he flexed them a violent jolt of incredible pleasure hit my whole pelvis like a mallet on a timpani.

“
Jesus,” I groaned. “Fuck.”

I almost came, once, twice, Dario halting, withholding each time I got close, then, when I’d calmed, his mouth working my cock again with that mysterious pressure and suction and the delicious friction of his tongue teasing the most sensitive places while he probed or stroked or rubbed that magic spot with his fingertip buried deep inside me, driving these guttural grunts out of me in a way fucking and being sucked never had, but each time I started to gasp and flex and arch and raked my fingers into his hair, trying to coax him down, trying to thrust my cock into his throat. Then that luscious sucking pressure abated, though my cock was still jammed to the hilt in his mouth, and his fingers would slip free of the grip of my asshole, or would just recede a little, abandoning the magic pressure point that was making me thrash and making my limbs spastic and useless. He took me to the edge a third time, held me dangling there, then dragged me back.

“
God, please!” I begged him. I sounded like I was about to cry, and maybe I was.

He took my cock from his mouth just long enough to say, “Like this?” Then he pushed his fingers into me to the hilt, fretting that spot inside of me with the flex and press of his fingertips while he worked over my cock until I was practically convulsing under him. And then it all stopped. “Tell me, Aidan.”

“
Yes, please, God. Just like that.”

A little groan escaped his throat as he grinned, then wrapped his lips around my cock, just under the crown, nursing and lapping as he started fingering my hole again, hitting that sensitive target at my depth once, twice, driving a long, whining moan from me as I arched up, clutching his hair and trying desperately to push myself all the way back into his throat, whimpering and murmuring a desperate prayer, “Please, yes, please, please!” and those two fingers straining my body flexed and flexed and flexed as he escalated that unbearable, perfect constricting pressure around my throbbing cock and I collapsed or seized in a brutal spasm of decimating pleasure. I don’t know if I moaned or exclaimed, if I let go of his hair or forced him down on me. I just felt the pleasure grab and twist me again and again, wringing me out until I was empty. Empty and limp.

I don’t remember the intervening seconds or minutes, but by the time I was halfway coherent again, we were lying next to each other and he had his arms around me. Practically cradling me, for a long time he just held me while I caught my breath and stopped trembling, his embrace close and warm and comforting. He only started kissing my hair, nuzzling into my neck, and now and then caressing my hip, tracing the tattoo there with a fingertip once I’d calmed. Every kiss, every little touch felt wonderful, made me want to be closer to him even though our bodies were all wrapped up in each other.

I said, “You’re still hard.”

That assured smile. An emphatic, playful, “Oh, yes.”

“
What should we do about that?” I was trying to be playful, too, but once again the fact that I felt nervous, that I hadn’t quite made up my mind about what I was and wasn’t ready to do tainted my voice.

“
We don’t need to do anything about it. It won’t break. And I’m loving this, just lying here with you, kissing and touching.”

I should have touched him, caressed him as I said it, but I was too shy, despite what we’d just done. “No,” I tried joking again, “something’s got to be done about that.”

“
I’ll go take a shower.”

“
What? A cold shower?” I was horrorstruck. He’d already written me off as useless.

“
Something like that.” Still smiling placidly.

“
So, what? You’d rather go jerk off than fool around with me? Am I that bad?” In the face of his unflappable tranquility I immediately felt like a total drama queen. Pardon the expression.

“
That thought didn’t actually cross your mind, did it? I can’t tell if you’re joking.”

“
Why would you say that, then?”

“
Because I’m trying very, very hard not to push you too far too fast, and I don’t want my hard-on to guilt you into doing anything. Whatever we do together, I want everything to be because you’re into it. Absolutely, unbearably hard for it.”

Just the way he said that had my cock perking up again.

“
Don’t imagine that I don’t want to reciprocate. I absolutely do. I’m just feeling . . .”

“
Not ready?” he finally asked.

“
Mostly I’m feeling hopelessly outmatched.”

“
I should hope so, since I’ve been assiduously mastering the art of making men come for almost ten years.” He kissed me, sweetly, almost tentatively at first, then deeply, with a swelling urgency. Then he stopped. “You talk like you’re afraid you’re a disappointment. So I want you to know, I haven’t enjoyed being with anyone so much in years.” He watched my face for a few seconds, then said, “Look at you. You don’t believe me.”

“
First my cock. Now you’re stroking my ego.”

He laughed at my terrible joke. “I’m not a good liar. But I’m truly hopeless with white lies. So if your ego feels stroked, I’m telling you the truth.”

“
Then forget the shower, and tell me what you want. Then teach me how to do it well.”

“
With pleasure,” he sighed, then kissed me again, this time not hiding his hunger, pulling me tight against him, licking and biting and sucking my lips in a way he hadn’t done before, and I was already getting hard again and I tried to forget my haunting doubts about how I ought to be doing things and for the first time I started to really touch him, to explore that delicious body, skin as smooth and soft as any woman I’d ever touched, but the architecture of him so, so male, those long, sinewy limbs, his narrow hips, those naturally broad shoulders I was so jealous of. He kept putting his mouth to me, kissing my neck, then biting, until the skin all over my body was tingling. Had I ever made a lover feel the way he made me feel? One or two, maybe. The two I’d been so obsessed with that I almost forgot my own pleasure in my desperation to make them need me as urgently as I’d thought I needed them.

When we were both quivering and needfully flexing and rubbing against each other I broke away from his ravenous kiss and asked, “What do you want?”

“
I want whatever you’re ready for.”

“
Don’t do that. Pretend for a second you’re not afraid of scaring me off.”

He gave me a shy, almost embarrassed smile that was utterly endearing. “You really want me to say it, whatever it is? No holding back?”

Suddenly I was terribly nervous again. But still agonizingly hard. “Yes.”

“
I’m dying for you to fuck me.”

Honestly, I didn’t believe him. That of everything, that was the one thing he wanted to do more than anything else. I was sure that the honest answer would have been that he wanted to fuck me. And that, more or less, is what I said.

He laughed, quietly and very sweetly. “Even after what you just experienced, you can’t believe I’m aching to feel you inside me?”

“
It’s not the same thing. Is it?”

Still smiling. God, that smile of his. “No, it’s not the same thing. But bottoming is delicious, too. Don’t dream for one second that I’m offering to sacrifice myself at the altar of your pleasure.” A tender, lingering kiss. Then, “But I can also wait for pleasure like that. I don’t want us to do it before you’re ready.”

I hurried to say, “I want to. God, I want to. I just . . . ”

“
It’s okay. Say what you’re thinking.” Sweet little kisses along my hairline, from just by my ear, up to my temple. Then that steady gaze. “You’re safe with me.”

“
I just wish I were more experienced. So I’d be good.”

“
You’ll be good.”

“
I don’t . . . I’ve only done anal a couple times. And the two women, neither of them liked it much.”

A little grin. “I’ll like it. Don’t worry. Just start off slow and easy, and don’t take offense that I have a habit of communicating exactly what I want.”