Page 94 of Dad Next Door

Tristan was never stingy with his affection, and he never tried to hide his arousal or downplay his reactions, but I’d never seen that look before. It was hungry and dark and so filled with desire my stomach swooped, and my every instinct told me to stay exactly how I was so he could use me for his pleasure.

The next thrust of his hips was faster, and the one after that went a little deeper, like he was testing my limits. I sucked as hard as I dared, not just wanting more, but needing it.

The new side of Tristan was breaking my brain in the best way possible.

His eyes blazed with heat, then he was moving in earnest, fucking my mouth the way I’d told him to.

I moaned and held still, relishing the sensation of not being used, exactly, but being able to give him this pleasure. To let him take what he needed and show me what he wanted.

My cock was hard and leaking in my briefs. I rubbed it, trying to use a little friction to distract myself so I could focus on Tristan and not on how turned on I was.

“Fuck, too much.” He gently pulled me off him. “Kiss me.”

Eagerly, I climbed over him, bracketing him with my arms, and obliged.

All thoughts of being suave or even deliberate flew from my mind as our kiss devolved into something hot and hard and messy. We clawed at each other in our haste to get naked.

After a few minutes of rolling around and only managing to get our pants down around our knees since neither of us was willing to stop kissing, I forced myself to pull away so we could focus on getting the rest of our clothes off.

“How?” Tristan gasped and lay back on the bed, his chest heaving. “How do I keep forgetting to breathe when you kiss me?”

“It’s crazy, right? I was about three seconds from blacking out.” I sat on my butt and shoved my pants and underwear down so they were around my ankles. “Shoes, genius,” I muttered at the offending footwear. I’d forgotten I was wearing them.

“Shoes?” Tristan asked dazedly. “Right. Shoes. Those things on my feet.” He sat up, struggling a bit and nearly falling back. “Please tell me this is way sexier than I think it is? Lie to me if you have to.”

“It’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.” I yanked off my shoes and tossed them aside. Grabbing one sock, I tugged hard. The sock got stuck when it was about halfway off, leaving me holding it while trying to kick my foot free. “Just like I’m sure this is the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen.”

He snickered. “You should incorporate that into your next dance shift.” He pulled off his shoes and tossed them over the side of my bed.

“I don’t wear socks on stage for this very reason.” I managed to get my sock off, then went to work on the other one. “So, did you like my dancing?”

“Fishing for compliments?” He smirked and waved his socks at me.

“Show-off.” I got the other one off and peeled my pants and underwear off. Tossing the bundle of clothes over my shoulder, I leaned back on one elbow and stretched out like I was posing.

“Jesus,” he breathed, his hands on his pants as he froze mid-motion. “It’s like having a centerfold in my bed.” He shook his head like he was breaking free from a daze. “Are centerfolds still a thing?”

“No clue.” I stroked my cock lazily, mostly to tease him but also to give myself some relief. Even the break in the action wasn’t enough to calm my desire. “You never answered me.”

“I think this says it all.” He waved at his cock, which was as hard as mine. “Why are pants so complicated?” He kicked his legs a few times, but his slacks were somehow twisted up with his underwear, and they didn’t budge.

Letting go of my dick, I got up on my hands and knees and crawled over to him. “I got you.”

He lay back and let me tug his pants down.

When we were both finally naked, I crawled over him. He spread his legs wide. I settled between them and lowered so I was lying on him. He gripped my waist hard enough to sting and rocked his hips, dragging his cock against mine.

I took a moment to look at him, to take in every little detail of the moment and commit it to memory.

He lay beneath me passively, instinctively knowing I needed a second to recenter.

This wasn’t just the first time I was having sex in over six years; it was the first time I was making love to someone, ever.

I’d wanted tonight to be all about him, to chase away the ghosts and demons of his past and replace them with happy memories of sex between people who cared about and respected each other.

But which one of us needed that more?

A soft hand pressed against my cheek, knocking me free from my daze.