In The Absence Of Light (13 page)

I slid my hands up his side and over his ribs and the dips between them. Morgan wrapped a leg around my thigh and pulled himself up my body. I was forced to tilt my head up in an attempt to keep eye contact. The second attack on my mouth was brutal, and my lips ached under the weight of the kiss.

“Morgan…” I wasn’t sure he heard me so I gripped his hair and turned my face away. “Morgan, you need to stop.”

He bit my neck and drew a wet line to my ear. Morgan latched onto my earlobe and sucked hard enough to make it sting.  God, that mouth on my cock would be heaven.

“Morgan.” He pulled back only because I made him. His flushed cheeks made his brown eyes darker. “Stop.”

He searched my face for a moment before his gaze was lost with a turn of his head and his bangs slid into place. Morgan unwound himself from my body, and my hands burned with the memory of his flesh.

“I’m sorry,” I said.

He walked into the living room. I followed.

“You’re beautiful, you’re…” I scrubbed my face. It did nothing to ease the fire in my skin or my frustration. “It’s just that the idea of being with you makes me feel guilty.”

He turned just enough that I knew he looked at me.

“I don’t know why.” I said. “Maybe because you deserve better or more or hell… I don’t know.”

“Try.”

“You’re young.” It was the best I could do. Mostly because it was all I could come up with. Like his struggle to vocalize what he saw in the light, I struggled to voice what I felt.

“So you think you’re too old for me?”

“I’m not sure.”

“I see.”

“God, Morgan. I feel like I would be taking advantage of you.”

“Why?”

“What if I can’t give you what you want?” Because even if I was capable, I couldn’t allow it to happen. I was leaving as soon as it was safe for me to move my money around.

“And what do I want?”

“I don’t know.”

“Exactly. You don’t. I’m twenty-four years old. An adult. Not a kid. I’m a man perfectly capable of making choices.”

“I just don’t want to use you.”

“I’m perfectly capable of taking the risk.”

“What if I hurt you?” Or myself.

“Are you planning on hurting me?”

“Of course not, it’s just…”

“You’re older?”

“Yes.”

“You know more than I do?”

“No.”

“So are you really trying to protect me from you or yourself from me?”

Why didn’t it surprise me he read through me? He could already see the world beyond the layers of my understanding. “I don’t know.”

Morgan shrugged and walked away.

I followed. “Please understand.”

He stopped next to his bed. How the hell had I gotten in here? I stepped back until I was in the doorway.

Morgan shrugged again. “I do.”

I’d expected him to say a lot of things, but that was not one of them. “You’re not mad?”

“Nope.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

“This isn’t about you being autistic.”

“I know.” He stripped his shirt off, uncovering his flowing shoulders and length of his back. He faced me. His smooth chest was interrupted by dark brown nipples, and his flat stomach by the faint happy trail widening below his navel. The dusting of caramel-colored hair disappeared beyond the hem of his shorts.

My mouth went dry and my heart stuttered. “What are you doing?” The words came out on a squeak.

“Changing my clothes. I have a sculpture to finish. You’re welcome to stay and watch”—he unbuttoned his jeans—“me work.” Morgan went to his dresser and pulled out a long-sleeved shirt. “I’m really sorry, you know.”

“For what?”

“For coming onto you. I mean, it’s gotta be embarrassing. But it makes sense why you pushed me away before.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Well, you know, being too old to, you know…” He waved a hand. “Get it up.”

“That’s not why I wanted you to stop.”

“No, it’s okay. You don’t have to make excuses. Like I said, I get it.” Morgan tossed his shirt on the bed and added a pair of sock. “You’re right. I should explore because if it all goes downhill at sixty—”

“Sixty?”

“Don’t get me wrong. You look really good for your age.”

“You know damn well I’m not sixty.”

“Oh, excuse me. Fifty-nine.”

“I’m thirty-six.”

“You sure? You look so much older.”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

“Well then, you should probably see a doctor.” Morgan picked up his flip-flops and sat on the bed. He laid them next to the shirt and socks. “I think I read somewhere your prostate can cause erectile dysfunction.” He flicked his hand near his head. His shoulder jumped and one of his flip-flops fell off.

I walked over and picked it up. “I don’t have problems getting it up. You should know. You were rubbing off on me.”

“Hmm—” He took the shoe. “I didn’t notice.”

“You didn’t notice?”

“Oh… so it’s that.”

“It’s what?”

“Nothing.”

“It’s what, Morgan?”

“Well, with as built as you are, I thought you’d be, you know, bigger.”

“Excuse me?”

“Don’t get upset. You might strain your heart.”

“There’s nothing wrong with my heart.”

“At your age, it’s better not to take a chance.” He smirked.

I knew he was baiting me. I knew, and yet I couldn’t stop myself from getting pissed. Angry and horny do not mix. I knew that from experience.

“Don’t get upset; I’m just looking out for you.” Morgan stood and unzipped his shorts. They fell to his ankles. He pushed past me and went to the dresser again. This time he took out a pair of jeans. Holes speckled the thighs.

“Are you going to stay?”

After this conversation? “I don’t know.”

He tossed me a few thoughts. “If you decide to leave, I’ll help you to your truck. I’d hate for you fall and break a hip.” Morgan sauntered back over to the bed, flopped down on the edge, and spread his knees. The gap in his boxers flashed an uncut cock and neatly trimmed hairs.

I willed myself to walk out of there, but my legs were in cahoots with my dick.

“Are you okay?” Morgan said. “You looked flushed.”

“I’m fine.”

“Might want to get your blood pressure checked when you pick up your prescription for those little blue pills.”

I clenched my teeth. “My blood pressure is fine.”

“Do you think bad blood pressure might be why you can’t get it up?” Morgan reached out and squeezed my crotch. A shock raced up my legs. He goosed me again. “Have you considered packing? I mean at least that way it being small wouldn’t be so noticeable. Just a sock. Or maybe two socks, you know so you’ll be about average.”

“There’s nothing wrong with my dick either.”

Morgan grinned at me. “Prove it.”

“No.”

“Here.” He rolled to the side and grabbed an address book from inside the nightstand. “I’ll give you Aunt Jenny’s number. She’ll know who to refer you to. She volunteers at the nursing home a few days a week.”

He stood, and I glared. Morgan tapped the book against my chest. “I know, maybe you should go to Chestnut Hill yourself. I’m sure there are lots of older people like you who would totally understand your issues.”

“I am not old and my dick is way above average.”

Morgan met my gaze and held it. Pure mischief gleamed in his eyes. Someone like him should never be capable of that kind of look. “Don’t worry, Mr. Kessler.” He pressed his chest against mine. “Your secret is safe with me.” He rubbed his palm over my crotch.

“Don’t even pretend you can’t feel that.” I forced him to run his hand down the length of my hardening cock pressed against my thigh.

“Yeah, I feel it.”  His coy expression turned into a look of concentration. “Sorta.”

I tightened my grip over his. “Sorta?”

“Can’t be too sure. Your jeans are in the way.”

“If you can’t feel my dick, my jeans aren’t the problem.”

“Sorry, Grant, but that could be a wrinkle in your briefs for all I know.” Morgan popped open the button on my jeans. “Here, I’ll even give you the benefit of doubt and check.” He pulled down the zipper.

I pushed his hands away. “Morgan, you’re playing with fire.”

“I thought it was your dick.” Morgan shoved his hand down the front of my pants. His cool fingers soothed my burning flesh. “I’m not sure, but I think I found it.” He stroked.

I broke. God help me, I just broke.

I grabbed him by the face and smashed our lips together. Morgan speared my mouth, fighting for control of the kiss. His hip bumped the end table and the clock hit the floor. He turned, taking me with him in a single fluid arch, giving me a hint of the skillful dancer he could have been.

The movement dislodged my jeans from my hips, and they fell to the floor. Morgan sank his fist in my hair, pulled my head back, and attacked my throat. His teeth coaxed tingling lines and sent them racing to my balls.

I groaned.

“I’m going to blow you, Grant. I’m going to give you the best damned head you’ve ever had.” He forced me to step backward, and the back of my knees hit the edge of the bed. Morgan rode me all the way down. I bounced on the mattress, and Morgan went off balance. I took the opportunity to roll over him. He slithered away, and I made chase.

“Why are you running? I thought you wanted this?”

He averted his gaze as a tic jerked his head to the side. For a moment, there was only the soft expression of a naive young man. It caught me off guard, and I sat back.

Morgan raised his eyes. A wicked grin spread across his face. He locked his legs around my waist and grabbed the iron headboard. I was flipped to the side with enough force I almost went over the edge. Morgan caught my arm and pinned me with his body on my chest.

He found my nipples with his agile fingers and pinched them. “Am I being too rough on you, old man?”

“Call me old one more time and I’ll show you the meaning of rough.”

Morgan hissed as he rocked against me. The head of his cock slid over my stomach. I reached for him, but he yanked my shirt over my head and twisted the material until it bound my hands. Then he arched over me.

“Still think you’re up for this?” He nipped my chin, my lips, and licked a line up my jaw. There was a metallic click somewhere above me. “Wouldn’t want you to overexert yourself. Being old an all, you should probably take it easy.”

“I warned you.” I made a grab for him and a cold line bit into my wrists. I shook my arms enough to slide the shirt out of the way.

Handcuffs bound me to the iron trellis of the headboard.

Morgan grinned.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I rattled the cuffs, and they clanked against the metal.

“Told you. Gonna give you the best head you’ve ever had.” He climbed off and stripped me of my boxers. My cock jutted high, dark red at the head, and aching to be touched.

I may be average in everything else when it came to appearances, but I wasn’t ignorant to the fact I had a dick to be proud of.

Morgan licked his lips. Just the sight of his pink tongue flicking out made me gasp.

He kicked off his boxers. His beautiful cock curved toward his stomach and precum glistened in the folds of skin cradling the head. Morgan straddled my ribs, putting the smooth globes of his ass inches from my chin. I forgot about the cuffs and tried to reach for him. The metal scraped the wrought iron.

He leaned forward, giving me a perfect view of his hole and balls dangling between his legs. An inferno covered the head of my cock.

“Fucking hell, Morgan.”

He hummed on the upstroke and sucked the tip. My balls pulled tight, and a rising tension extended up my torso, threatening to toss me right off the bed before he even got started.

Holy shit, he was right. I forgot about the cuffs and lost myself in the feel of a silky tongue swirling over the glans and tight lips stroking the upper part of my cock. Morgan didn’t keep me at the back of his throat, instead he concentrated on the last few inches, massaging and working the flesh until the only thing that mattered was the rush of pleasure he coaxed into the head of my dick.

The wave of euphoria twisted around me. “Oh, God.”

Morgan caressed my thighs, my calves, rocking forward until his head was pulled between his shoulders. His touch danced around my ankles. Electric lines retraced the path his hands had taken.

Morgan did some strange rolling movement with his tongue, applying pressure to the slit. The slow build of need spiraled out of control.

I barked out a cry, and right at the edge of release, Morgan stopped.

Every breath I exhaled was accompanied by an explosion of black spots in front of my eyes. When my vision cleared, Morgan’s face was so close our noses almost touched.