Family Man (21 page)

Was that true? Did I worry? Well, sure, about some things. Like work and school and my Gram, and whether or not we could pay the rent and fix the dishwasher. And about whether I could take care of her or not. And whether I’d ever be able to do something that wasn’t waiting tables. I worried, sure. But didn’t everybody?

“But—” I started to say.

He was still on top of me, nuzzling my neck, and he laughed. “Stop thinking.”

“You’re the one who brought it up.”

“Fine.” He kissed me, his tongue teasing over my lip. “But now I want you to stop. Relax, Trey.” He shifted to the side, gripped my ass and pulled me tight against him. His lips returned to my neck. “Just let go.”

“What the hell does that mean?” I asked. I put my hands on his chest and tried to push him away, but he didn’t move. “Are you saying I’m frigid or something?” He kept hold of me, smiling that teasing, smartass, lopsided smile of his.

“I’m saying you’re uptight. There’s a difference.”

“Because I’m still a virgin?”

He shook his head. “No.”

“Then what?”

“Do you remember the first night we went out? When we danced?”

God, how could I forget? “Of course.”

“You told me that it was okay to be turned on. Remember?”

I wasn’t sure I liked where this was going, but I said, “Yes.”

“Well, you were right, Trey. It’s all right to feel good together. And to be turned on. And it’s all right to stop worrying, and thinking, and saying no. I’m not saying we have to have sex now, or tonight, or ever for that matter. I’m saying it’s okay to feel good, whatever that means. It’s all right to let go.” He leaned down to brush his lips over mine. His fingers brushed my cheek, and he looked again into my eyes. “Do you believe me? Do you trust me?”

Did I? “Yes.”

“Good.” He began to kiss my neck. “Now relax. Stop thinking. Just let go, Trey. Let things go where they will.”

It confused me. Was he talking about sex or not? “But…”

He slid his hand under me to grab my ass. His lips brushed my ear. It felt unbelievably good. “Trust me.”

He went back to kissing me, pulling me against him to accentuate the way he was grinding into me. I was nervous at first, but he never strayed. At no point did he move toward the buttons on my pants, or on his own. In fact, when I reached for him, he pushed my hands away. “Relax,” he whispered against my lips.

Finally, I did. Maybe we’d have sex. Maybe we wouldn’t. Either way, I was with him. I loved him. So many years I’d held out, waiting for exactly this: a man I trusted, who would take care of me no matter what. I didn’t need to worry. I didn’t need to fend him off or keep saying no. I melted into his arms, and he moaned as I did. His motions sped up, as he continued to thrust against me. His other hand slid up my chest, under my shirt. His fingertip touched my nipple, and I gasped at the pleasure of it. He pushed my shirt up and moved down to tease it with his tongue.

He didn’t have to encourage me anymore. I was grinding against his chest, panting, breathless beneath him. He began to move down my stomach, his tongue and lips moving past my ribs, and I tensed, fearing where he was heading, but he said, “I know the rules.”

That made me want to laugh. We’d basically just agreed that we were going to have sex someday, but he was back to the rules. Oddly, though, this relaxed me.

Don’t think,
I cautioned myself, and somehow this time it worked.

He kissed my stomach, down to the waist of my pants, and although he didn’t go an inch farther than my waistband, it made me wild. I couldn’t believe how warm his mouth felt. I couldn’t believe how his tongue on my navel could send such pleasure to my cock. I thrust against him again, and he moaned. He squeezed my ass. His lips nipped at my stomach.

It was exquisite, and I realized with a sudden horror that I was about to come.

“Stop,” I tried to say, but it was like he knew. It was as if he anticipated what I was going to say.

“Let go,” he said.

I did.

It was strange and new and so easy, really, to let that wave of desire crest and break over me. I’d had orgasms of course, but only alone. Never with another man. Even though we were wearing our clothes, it felt amazing. His hand gripped my ass, pulling me in tighter as I arched against him. His mouth locked on to my stomach, sucking and biting. I could feel the vibrations in my flesh as he moaned. His hand stroked my cock, stiff and sticky inside my shorts.

Inside my shorts.

“Oh my God,” I moaned, covering my face with my hands.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, lifting his head, looking alarmed.

“What’s wrong? I just came in my pants like a stupid teenager.”

He grinned. “So what?”

“So, it’s embarrassing, that’s what.”

He gripped my wrist and pulled my hand away from my face so I’d be forced to look at him. He was amused, but I could also see the familiar heat of arousal in his eyes. He definitely wasn’t laughing. “
Not
embarrassing,” he said. “Hot as hell. So hot I almost came too. But not embarrassing.”

It was, but he made it okay somehow. He made everything okay. I stroked his face. “You didn’t come.”

He winked at me. “I’m not in a hurry.”

He kissed me then, slow and lazy, a winding-down kiss instead of a winding up. He nuzzled me, his lips teasing a path to my ear.

“I’ll get you a key,” he said, nipping at the lobe.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to. But I also want you to know that yes, God I want you so much it hurts, but I want you to be ready. I’m not going to rush you.” His hand skimmed over my now-soft cock, kneading gently against the overly sensitive flesh. “But I’ll admit, I won’t say no to some fooling around.”

Part of me wanted to fool around more right then, to make him come apart the way he’d made me. I couldn’t, though, not at that moment. I was too busy melting into his arms, feeling safe and good and cared for.

Letting go.

I ended up staying at Vinnie’s for dinner that night, partly because I wanted to, partly because my pants were in the wash.

He gave me a pair of sweatpants which I had to cinch as tight as they would go, and even then they hung low on my hips, baring my ass because I was commando underneath them. Vin didn’t seem to mind this at all, finding a lot of excuses to make me get up and cross the room in front of him or to follow me from about ten feet behind.

“You want to order in or go out on your way back home?” he asked.

“What, you’re not going to cook for me?” I teased.

He gave me his cocky half-smile. “If that’s what you want, I will.”

I was tempted to tell him I was kidding, but the idea of Vinnie cooking while I studied at his kitchen table was abruptly very appealing. “Yeah. That’s what I want.”

“Then that’s what you’ll get. You want the stereotypical meal from the Italian guy whose family runs a chain of restaurants, or you want something different?”

“I want whatever you want to cook for me,” I told him.

He made me seared salmon and quinoa salad with kale. I was impressed, especially when it turned out to be amazingly good.

“Rachel is always after me to eat healthier.” He grimaced and put a meaningful hand on his abdomen. “It’s not easy, between my family and having to eat on the fly during jobs. But I do my best.”

“You’re an amazing cook.” I wasn’t much of one myself, spoiled by Gram cooking for me since I could remember.

He grunted in response and focused on his salad, but I could tell my compliment had pleased him.

I helped him clean up, but by this time it was eight, and I began to fidget. I felt like I should be heading home, but I didn’t want to go. At all, I realized. I’d studied plenty, and to be honest knew I should get to bed early for my shift at Full Moon. But it felt so good at Vin’s place. It was quiet. Nobody fought or sat stoned out in front of the television. Nobody was tired.

Plus, he kept looking at me, making me remember coming in his arms. Making me want to do it again.

I glanced at the couch, wondering how I could convince him to sit there with me. I supposed I could just blurt out,
Do you want to make out before I go home?
but it felt too bold.

He cleared his throat. “Want to watch a little TV?”

Oh. Yeah. That was a good way to get us there. “Yeah,” I said, my voice a little husky. Smiling that half smile, he caught my hand and led me to the sofa. We sat next to each other, so close I was practically in his lap. He stroked my thigh, then reached for the remote.

I caught his wrist and put it back on my thigh.

Our gazes met, heavy with want, burdened by caution and insecurity. I wondered if he was as nervous as I was.

“Vinnie,” I whispered.

He smiled at me, his hand sliding up my thigh. It rose to my waistband—his waistband, because I still wore his sweatpants, even though the dryer had sounded an hour ago. I sucked in my stomach as his fingers stole inside.

“This okay?” he asked.

God, more than okay. I nodded.

His fingers kept skimming against me. “I want to take them off.”

My cock, not exactly quiet, swelled to full attention. “
Yes
.”

He didn’t move, though, just kept skimming. “Do you want mine off too? Or do you want me to stay in my clothes for now?”

I couldn’t decide. Part of me wanted to keep playing the virginal boy being tutored by the older, wiser man, but I knew he didn’t really have any more experience at this than I did. Not with men, at any rate. “What do you want?”

He’d been watching my face, but now his gaze dipped down. My breath caught, because in that moment I could see the boy that Vin had been, could imagine what he’d been like at twelve, at fourteen, at eighteen. He laughed. “God, I don’t know. Dumb, isn’t it, being nervous and shy when I’ve been married three times? You aren’t even my first guy, not all the way.”

Whoa. I held still. “You fooled around with guys?” Yes, he’d mentioned that during his big confession, and I’d wondered about it, but that certainly hadn’t been the time to ask. “When?”

He shrugged. “In college. Not much. Not often. Just blowjobs and hand jobs, but the blowjobs always made me feel guilty.” His fingers slid to my stomach, under my shirt, and he watched their progression. “I did the hand jobs, but I never gave the blowjobs. Feel like an ass about that now, but I was too scared at the time. Thought it would make me gay.”

The idea of Vinnie giving me a blowjob made my cock ache. The rest of me too, for that matter. I took hold of his hand and gently, insistently, pushed it down to the bulge in my pants. “Maybe you should test the theory.”

He massaged my cock through my pants a few times, watching the action with naked lust before lifting his eyes to mine. “Trey,” he asked, his voice very gruff, “would you like a blowjob?”

I nearly came right there. “Yes.”

My stomach turned over. Excitement tangled with nerves as he caught the edge of my pants, shoving them down over my hips, all the way to my ankles this time. I helped him along, pushing out of them with my feet until I was naked from the waist down. I felt so exposed, so strange, rather vulnerable, but the way Vinnie looked at me, the way he shifted my body, pressing me back into the cushions, spreading my legs so he could see me, the way he caressed the sides of my groin before taking my length in his hand—Vinnie made me forget to be nervous. He just made me hot. Especially when he touched me like that, skimming his hand all the way to the tip, teasing my hole with his thumb. He stroked me a few times, not tentatively, but not rough either.

Then he bent forward and took me in his mouth.

I cried out and grabbed at the couch, because the force of the sensations his wet heat gave me made me dizzy. He didn’t take me in deep. He sucked on the head gently at first, running his tongue around it, then sucking harder as he slid down and took me deeper. And deeper. And deeper.

With a jerk, he coughed and gagged. He lifted his head, his mouth trailing spit as he looked at me apologetically. “Sorry,” he croaked.

He was so sexy, red-faced, mouth swollen as he hovered over my cock, that all I could do was whimper.

He gave me that sideways smile, gripped my base, and went down on me again.

For someone’s first time at sucking cock, he didn’t do badly at all, at least as far as I was concerned. Not that I had any kind of experience to hold it up against. His mouth on my cock felt so amazing I began to think I was an idiot for waiting so long, but every time I looked down at his dark head and caught him glancing up at me, gaze filled with eagerness both for his task and to please me, to please himself, I didn’t regret waiting at all. I was glad he was my first.

Yes, I was glad Vincent Fierro had my cock in his hot mouth, and I couldn’t help it—I thrust into it a few times, shallow at first, then deeper.

He responded enthusiastically. He slid a hand under my ass and pulled me in deeper, though he kept one hand on the base of my cock too, controlling how far into his throat I went. He moaned as I began to thrust faster. His hips bucked against the couch as he sucked me. He sucked hard, like my cock was the thing he’d always wanted in his mouth, and even though I’d come that afternoon, it didn’t take me long before I felt my orgasm building again. I cried out a warning, but he stayed in place and swallowed me down. I collapsed against the arm of the couch, and when I opened my eyes, he was looming over me, looking pleased with himself and happy. His mouth was swollen, like someone had fucked it.