Roommate Arrangement (Divorced Men's Club #1)(55)

“It’s … I never … never … umm, shit. Wow.” He’s panting, babbling words that don’t make sense.

I hold up my hand to his mouth. “Spit.”

He does without question. Then I hold him tight with one arm across his chest and wrap my other hand around his cock.

Beau’s head drops back on my shoulder with a moan. I stroke him in time with my thrusts, this time aiming for his prostate and pegging it over and over. His string of nonsensical words is fucking music, and I beg my body to hold out. Just a bit longer. A bit longer.

“I’m … I’m so close …” he pants.

“Me too.” With a last rush of energy, I give him everything I have. My balls slap against his ass, and I’m getting sweaty, overheated, and so damn close.

Beau picks up speed, fucking himself desperately on my cock, and I jerk him as fast as I can until his cock pulses in my hand, and he unleashes. His ass clamps tight, sending me off rhythm as pleasure races from my spine to my balls, and my orgasm crashes into me. I grip Beau close and bury myself as deep as I can while I spill my load inside him.

It feels in-fucking-credible.

Slowly, my breathing returns to normal, and we collapse onto the bed, me gripping him tight so I don’t slip out.

“What are you doing?” he asks, wrapping a hand back to play with my hair.

“Waiting to see if I can go again.”





22





Beau


Waking up with Payne’s arm wrapped around me, his dried cum over my ass and between my legs, I expect things to be awkward. But when he notices I’m awake, he gives me a quick kiss, slaps my ass, and throws his legs off the side of the bed.

“Up you get, sleepyhead.”

I turn and bury my face into his pillow. If I get up, it’s over. And I stayed awake for as long as I could to get the most out of our night. The second time he fucked me was slower, longer, more kissing and touching, less desperate pounding.

I’m torn over which was best.

I also don’t care.

Because the ache in my ass is amazing.

There’s only so long I can put it off, and when the smell of bacon cooking reaches me, I know it’s time to give up. I drag my ass out of bed, shower the smell of sex off my skin, then join him in the kitchen.

I watch him move around with confidence, cracking eggs and flipping pancakes. He’s got a feast set up for us. When he slides my plate over to me, I take it in with wide eyes.

“This is a lot of food.”

He shrugs where he’s standing across the island from me and takes a bite out of a sausage. “Sex makes me hungry.”

“I bet. I don’t think I’ve taken that kind of pounding in my life.”

Payne’s laugh sounds completely normal, which is a relief. “Maybe next time you can do me?”

“Really?” I’m not sure what look I’m wearing, but dear fucking fuck, he cannot drop that on me over breakfast while I’m still tired as hell.

“Sure. I love bottoming, but …” He cringes.

“Yeah?”

“My ex would never.”

“Kyle didn’t top? But …” I think back to that disgusting video. Is there some kind of etiquette when it comes to pointing out his husband didn’t mind topping them?

“Yeeep. Apparently it was only off the table when it came to me. That’s definitely not going to make a guy self-conscious or anything.”

“He was an idiot.”

“Thanks. I know.” Payne puffs out a breath. “Just … that was maybe what pissed me off the most.”

“Good for me though,” I say, wanting to distract him.

“It is?”

“Yeah. Just think about how tight you’re going to be.”

He cracks up laughing.

“Can we go again now?” I ask.

“Holy shit, there is no way that’s happening.” He rubs his dick through his pants. “This thing is down and out for a bit longer. You’re only four years younger than me—there’s no way you can tell me you’re good to go again already.”

I shift back so he can see where my dick is thickening. “What can I say? He likes you.”

“Eat your breakfast.”

“Fine.” I roll my eyes, like this whole thing is such an inconvenience, but he’s feeding me and offering more sex. If that isn’t the best morning ever, I’m out of ideas for what is.

“And stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” I blink up at him and he lets out a shaky breath.

“Damn, Bo-Bo.”

Neither of us say anything for a moment, then he clears his throat and looks away.

“I have to duck over to Marty’s today and pick up my mail. You want to come?”

“Come …”

“For a drive, horndog.”

I should work. I really should. This week I’ve been even more distracted than usual. But I also don’t want to be separated from him yet. “Sure.”

We finish breakfast, then rinse our dishes and go change. Payne might have failed at the “pointing out my flaws” part of our arrangement, but he’s kept this place spotless, and having him here makes me more conscious of picking up after myself as well.