My free hand roams to his arse. It’s a firm arse, to boot. Hell, I want him. I want all of him, and I can’t get enough.
I pinch Gibson’s arse, not hard enough to hurt, just enough to get his attention. I feel I do have all of it.
I pull back just enough that he understands my intention. “I’m going to make you come. And fuck if I can’t wait to fill your arse with my cock, but we have some time.”
His hands are in my hair. “I love this bossiness. Shit, you’re perfect, and fuck, you found my weakness.” I don’t have a chance to clarify what he means, not with me enjoying his cock. “Yeah, Doc. Deep throat me.”
I’m not one to take orders, but he’s not telling me anything I’m not willing to do for him.
“Oh, hell. Did you learn this technique from medical school?”
I’m not doing anything fancy, but to say I may know about the human anatomy isn’t a long shot. I don’t answer him because his cock in my mouth is just too delicious to stop. I move my tongue, suckling his balls as the pre-cum continues to lubricate his cock, the up and down motions of my hand stroking him hard.
His hands stop massaging my head but stay on me, as though he’s steadying himself.
“Don’t stop. Can I please come in your mouth?” Shit, this man gets me. “Your mouth on my dick and your hands on my balls is sure one hell of a way to start off my night.” I don’t stop. I won’t stop.
“I’m getting ready to…” And he explodes everywhere, but without a command, my tongue returns to the tip of his cock, lapping up as much flavor from him as I’m able to get.
“Stone, fuck, that was…”
I really suck him now. The sensitivity after he comes has to be the reason he can’t speak, or at least it’s what I love after I come.
“I’m so turned on right now, and fuck, I just came.”
Tonight, it’s different, but I hope for a repeat, where I’ll push into that tight arse and soon.
However, I now am remembering we didn’t really eat at the pub.
“I need a couple minutes to recover, Teach. And I think you do, too.”
I push up to his face. My hand pulls at the back of his neck, bringing him into a long, sensual kiss.
“That was something.” Gibson pulls back, a perfect grin an orthodontist would love to use for marketing. “And I’ve not forgotten you, Doc, but…”
My stomach growls, as his does at the same time. I give him a wicked smirk. “You whisked me out of the pub before I could finish my dinner. And may I say, I think we need some nourishment before we start round two.”
“You’re not wrong and I was kind of hoping you’re not done with me.” His little hope is mine, too.
“I can make us a simple dish, or I have some leftover coddle from last night.” I’m about to explain this meal, as I’ve had to a million times to my American mates, but with Gibson, I assume the Scottish man may just know what I’m talking about. “Please tell me you know this dish?”
“You have coddle? Holy fuck. Yeah, I want some of that shit. I mean, I guess, if you’re a good cook and all?”
I stand straight at the possible insult. “For a man who just got a grade A blow job, you’ve insulted me.”
I peer into my refrigerator, looking for the covered dish. His deep belly chuckle reminds me I’ve yet to receive a blow job or handy. But my thoughts are short-lived when his words have me listening to him.
“You’re a little dramatic, don’t you think? I’m just saying, I’ve eaten dishes from those who claimed authentic Irish food and it was anything but.” I stare at him, only for him to continue. “You know that farm I spent summers on? My móraí I told you about. She grew up in Dublin and taught me everything she knows. She was a gas, the funniest person you’ll meet, besides me, of course,” Gibson jests.
I pull for drinks out of the fridge, giving him one. “Want a mineral?” I ask.
He takes a look at the Coca-Cola in his hand. “You do know I grew up in the States. Never heard a soda called this.”
“Oh, Teach, now it’s my turn to educate you.” I let my words hang in the air as I move to the microwave, placing the leftovers from last night to warm.
“Wow, are we still simply talking about Irish slang words, Doc?”
It’s my turn to let out a long, ghastly chortle. “Let me broaden your horizons on many things, but for now, it’s time to try my food. I must say I haven’t strayed too much from my Irish roots. Jett loves it when he spends the night at his grandfather’s because they eat a more traditional American diet. And he won’t allow me to pack him cabbage and bacon for lunch. I’ve failed somewhere in his upbringing.”