The Spiral Down (The Fall Up #2)(40)

Henry: Talk?

Me: Talk, Henry. AKA: CASUALLY converse.

Henry: How casual are we talking here? Tic-tac-toe on a paper tablecloth? Or bring my STD results and meet you at a seedy motel?

Me: Wow. Okay. Well, clearly, casual is off the table. Just send over the results when you get a chance.

Henry: Jeez, don’t be so sensitive. Fine, here’s your original message… I’ll be passing through San Fran for a few hours tomorrow night. I’d be happy to hand-deliver the results myself.

Me: Bullshit. That’s not long enough.

Henry: Oh, but, Evan, we already established that length is not an issue for me.



I barked a laugh and clapped a hand over my mouth, trying to cover my huge smile even though no one was around. I didn’t want to admit how much I was enjoying finally talking to him again—even if it was just through a text.



Me: Don’t worry. Haven’t forgotten.

Henry: Have you tried to forget?



The corners of my mouth curled upward. That sexy bastard was fishing. Baiting me with a simple question that would give him clear insight into where I stood in regards to him. The only problem was that I didn’t have the answer. It was a tug-of-war that had been battling in my head since we’d met. The only thing I knew for sure was that I wanted him. My cock grew hard if I so much as thought about him. I couldn’t count the number of times I’d jerked off to the memories of our night together.

That’s where I stood in regards to him. Plain and simple, I wanted him. I might have been straddling some other lines in the process of wanting him. Mainly, the ones that would explain why I didn’t have to be pumping my dick for him to infiltrate my mind.

But I could deal with that later.



Me: Yes. I’ve tried a lot, actually.



The icon at the bottom blinked to show that he was typing…and probably deleting. I watched for a few more seconds before putting him out of his misery.



Me: I tried in the shower the day I got home. It wasn’t as good as our shower.

Me: I tried the next night when I was alone in bed. A bottle of lube and my hand is a sad substitution for your mouth.

Me: I tried again when I got home from the grocery store yesterday. Your lips were on the cover of three magazines. It was torture.

Me: And I’ll probably try tonight because I wouldn’t want to embarrass myself when you show up at my house tomorrow.



His response was immediate.



Henry: So you ARE flirting with me.



I was. Goddammit. I f*cking was. I had absolutely no control over it, either. The only thing I could do was remind myself of what this was. And all it could ever be.



Me: Casually, of course. I’ll have the tic-tac-toe board ready.




“Shit. Fuck. Oh my…” My ass was on the couch and Henry was kneeling between my legs. He’d arrived five minutes earlier and this was as far as we’d made it.

No sooner had the door closed than his mouth had landed on mine. And it was just as intoxicating as I remembered. We’d blindly banged against walls and the coffee table before finding the couch. He’d then shoved me down and tossed a piece of paper I vaguely tagged as his STD test results, and then he was on his knees, sucking my length into the back of his throat.

I’d been nervous when I’d heard his car pull up. It hadn’t felt casual at all. It felt like a first date. And, given the opportunity, I probably would have gone all teenage boy and asked if he wanted to watch a movie until I worked up the courage to cop a feel.

This was definitely better. My head couldn’t get muddled when he kept it right where it belonged—in his mouth.

My pants hadn’t even been pushed down. He’d simply popped the button, lowered the zipper, and tugged my cock out. He was still fully dressed, and it was driving me mad. Well, that and the velvet of his tongue as he swirled it around my tip.

“Henry, wait.”

He bottomed out, his lips meeting my root.

“Shit. Fuck. Oh my…”

He glided up and popped me from his mouth. “You already said that, Evan.”

Evan.

I shit you not, my balls drew up in response.

Making a fist in his hair, I roughly dragged him up until his mouth met mine. “Don’t be a smartass while I’m f*cking your mouth,” I mumbled between kisses.

His tongue rolled greedily and his denim-covered cock ground against my stomach as he rocked against me. “Actually, I was f*cking you with my mouth. Big difference.”

I trailed my hand up his throat, then gripped his chin to halt his frenzied lips. “You want me to f*ck your mouth?”

His pupils dilated with arousal.

I swiped my thumb over his bottom lip and then dipped it between his teeth. There was no hesitation as he began sucking it with gentle pulls that shot directly to my groin.

“It that a yes?” I asked impatiently.

With a simple nod, his flames consumed me once again.




We rushed to the bedroom and stripped ourselves naked, and then I positioned him face up with his head hanging over the edge of my bed. Henry looped an arm around one of my thighs and lifted it until my knee settled by his head. With a tip of his chin to his chest, I gloriously slipped to the back of this throat on a loud curse.