Spencer Cohen Series, Book Two (The Spencer Cohen Series 2) (7 page)

“Why would I want to do that?”

I laughed into his shoulder. “Okay, so hold the onion down on the chopping board and slice the top and bottom off,” I instructed. I put my hands over his, so while he held the knife, I guided his hand, and together we peeled and sliced the onion. He only complained about the smell and burning eyes about twenty times. Then we did the garlic and the tomatoes, and I may have planted kisses on his neck every now and again or nudged my nose into the back of his hair.

Food had never been so erotic before, and having my dick pressed against his arse didn’t help matters any. But I made him do it all; I just helped and instructed, mostly just so I had an excuse to touch him. Or stand with my dick against his arse and my lips at his neck.

By the time we threw it all into a pot, added the minced beef and a jar of sauce, and much to Andrew’s dismay, my Aunt Marvie’s special ingredient—a few spoonfuls of crushed pineapple—I put the lid on it and set it to simmer.

“Now what?” he asked.

“It needs to cook for a while.”

He wiped his hands on a tea towel and set it down on the counter. “For how long? What about the pasta? You know I actually quite enjoyed this. Cooking, that is. It was fun.”

I bit my bottom lip and could feel the gravitational pull of every damn centimetre between us. He had no clue how fucking sexy he was or how much he drove me crazy. “Forty-five minutes, maybe an hour, on a real low heat. Plenty of time.”

“Plenty of time for what? Pasta doesn’t take that long, does it?”

I took two big strides to stand in front of him, so close I spoke against his lips. “Have you forgotten already?”

Recognition sparked in his eyes, and he exhaled in a rush. “Oh. You said after dinner…”

“I did, but for the last half an hour, all I’ve been doing is imagining how your arse tastes.”

He melted against me, like my words made his knees weak. “Oh.”

“Do you want me to rim you?” I asked. My lips brushed against his.

He nodded. “I showered,” he breathed. “And I cleaned… there.”

I smiled and ghosted my lips against his. “I thought you said you’d never done it before.”

“I googled,” he blurted out.

I chuckled at that. “Did you, now?”

He nodded. “It was very detailed.” He cringed. “And kind of gross and explicit. I had to buy some douching bulbs,” he said. Then he squinted his eyes closed and made a weird squeaking noise. “Oh my god, I can’t believe I just said that.”

I put my hands to his face and kissed him. “You are so perfect.” I grabbed his hand and led him to my bedroom. When I turned to face him, his expression stopped me. He looked nervous and excited, his cheeks were flushed pink, his lips parted and wet, but his eyes were dark with lust. “Jesus, you’re so fucking sexy,” I mumbled before I wrapped my hand around his neck and pulled him in for a kiss. He kissed me back, hard and urgent, pawing at my shirt, trying to undress me while never breaking the kiss. He was horny, there was no doubt about it.

“Sit on the bed,” I urged him.

His chest was heaving and he looked a little confused, but he did as I told him. I knelt before him and undid his laces, pulled his shoes off, then his socks. I ran my hands up his legs, squeezing his thighs and palming his erection through his trousers. I popped the button on his fly, and he lifted his hips so I could pull his pants down and off him. I tossed them onto the floor and stood up, giving him a close and proper look at the bulge in my pants. I even gave myself a slow palm, more for his benefit than mine. When he looked up at me, he had sex and desire written all over his face.

“Stand up,” I whispered. He did, so I pulled his shirt and vest off together and took a long admiring look at his body. “Fuck you’re hot.”

He undid my jeans roughly. “Maybe we should skip the rimming and move straight to the fucking,” he said gruffly.

I grabbed his face and kissed him so hard, ploughing his mouth with my tongue that he whimpered. He fucking whimpered. “On the bed, face down,” I said.

He moved quickly, first kneeling on the bed, then spreading his thighs, he lay down, keeping his arse up. Fuck. He was putting on a show for me. Intentional or not, he was driving me crazy. I wanted so badly to fuck him. I wanted to kneel behind him and bury myself inside him and stay there forever. But I also had to keep true to his wishes of preferring to wait. I was happy to oblige with other acts, but penetrative sex was off-limits for now. Until we discussed it without lust and libido being the driving deciding factor.

I knelt behind him and my rock-hard cock throbbed with need. I think my dick thought it was about to get laid.
Man, I want to…

Instead, I planted kisses up the backs of his thighs. He writhed, and his splayed his hands out on the bed. “Spencer,” he whispered.

His arse was perfect. Pale, toned, rounded, and glorious. He had a blond fuzz lightly dusted over his cheeks, and I licked up one side and gently bit the other. He responded by raising his hips. “Oh God,” he mumbled.

I spread his cheeks and softly licked the sensitive skin around his hole, making him bite back a groan. “Can you just…” he started. “Please Spencer, just fuck me.”

So I fucked him with my tongue. His reaction was immediate: he squirmed, and half-groaned, half-laughed, and fisted the bedcovers in his hands. “Oh my God.”

I pulled my mouth away. “You like it?”

He groaned again. “Yes. Don’t stop.”

I smiled as I swiped my tongue over his hole. I didn’t need him to tell me he liked it; his body’s reaction told me all I needed to know. I pushed my tongue into him again, and he moaned as his hips rose to meet me. Fuck, he couldn’t get enough. He was so turned on, so damn horny. I couldn’t wait until I had my cock in him. He was so responsive, so vocal. I could only imagine the sounds he’d make when he was pounded into the mattress, or better yet, if he did that to me.

He writhed under my hands, under my tongue, and was making the most glorious sounds. He shoved his hand under his hip, no doubt so he could grip his own dick and the thought of him jerking himself off almost did me in. I pulled away and tapped his hip. “Roll over for me,” I urged him.

He grumbled about me stopping, but he rolled over and swung his leg up and over so I was again in between his legs. His cock was hard and spilling precum, and he wasted no time in gripping himself.

I slid my briefs down and pulled out my aching cock, humming with relief at the touch. I leaned over him, my thighs between his, and with one hand above his shoulder holding me up, I took both our cocks in my other hand.

Andrew gasped, and his eyes went wide as he fucked my fist. He grabbed my face, but before he kissed me, I pulled my face back and my hand that was rubbing us together slowed. “I’ve had my mouth on your arse,” I said, wanting to remind him that he might not like to kiss that.

His nostrils flared, and he pulled my face to his, kissing me deeply. So fucking deeply. I almost forgot to keep pumping our dicks until he bucked his hips up, and he groaned into my mouth as he came.

Feeling him surge and swell in my hand, against my own cock, sent me over the edge, and my orgasm uncurled through me. When the room had stopped spinning and I finally opened my eyes, Andrew was staring at me. “God, Spencer…”

I collapsed on top of him and laughed into his neck. “You’re welcome.”

His chest vibrated under me as he chuckled. “Why are you still completely dressed and I’m very naked?”

“I meant to get undressed,” I said, pulling back so I could see his face. I rested my head on my hand and sighed. “But you were too fucking gorgeous.”

He burst out laughing and blushed right down his neck. “That was intense, that’s for sure.”

“Not that I really need to ask because I know the answer already, but how was your first rimming experience?”

He laughed some more and put his hand over his eyes, embarrassed. I peeled his hand away so he’d look at me. “Don’t be embarrassed, Andrew. You have no idea how much you turned me on.”

His lip pulled down. “Oh.”

He seriously had no clue how fucking sexy he was. “I mean it. I could literally eat you with a spoon.”

“Well, that would probably hurt.”

I snorted out a laugh. “We better get cleaned up.”

“How about you go check on dinner and I just lay here,” he said. “I’m pretty blissed out right now, and I don’t even know if my legs’ll work.”

I laughed, then thought about what he said. “Shit. Dinner.” I scampered off him, then the bed, and tripped over myself into the living room as I fixed my trousers. I stirred the bolognaise sauce and filled the largest pot with water and put it on the stove to boil. Next, I went to the bathroom, cleaned myself up, wet a washer with warm water, and walked back to my room. Andrew was still laying there, arms and legs spread wide with the sheet pulled to his waist. Despite how incredible he looked still naked in my bed, the smirk on his face was my favourite thing. “Do you have any intention of getting out of that bed?”

His smile widened. “No.”

I tossed the washer at him, and it landed on his stomach. “Ah!” he cried, flailing. Then he stopped. “Oh, it’s warm.”

I laughed and ran and jumped on him, kneeling over him with my hands on either side of his head. I leaned down and kissed him.

“Mm, minty,” he said.

“Mouthwash. You know, considering what I ate last.”

It took him a second. “Oh my God.”

“It really embarrasses you, doesn’t it?”

“Of course it does! You’re talking about eating my…”

“Arse?” I sat back, effectively straddling his hips. “And it was delicious.”

He threw the washer at my face, then covered his own with his hands. “Jesus, Spencer.”

I laughed and wiped the washer over his stomach and chest. “Don’t be embarrassed. It’s just us.”

His hands fell away, and he looked at me. It was as though my words flipped a switch in his head. He looked at me for a long moment. “Just us, huh?”

“Yep.” I shuffled down a bit and pulled the sheet away so I could clean him up properly. He was half hard again, his cock lay thick and snug across his hip. “You have the most gorgeous cock I think I’ve ever seen.”

He laughed again and shook his head. He didn’t cover his eyes so I considered it a win. “Seen many?” he asked.

“A few. I told you when we first met, I love arse, and I love dick.”

“True. You did say that.”

“I’ve always had safe sex though, and I’ve been tested regularly.”

“Oh.” He blinked, my change in conversational direction clearly shocked him. “Um, me too.”

I wiped him over thoroughly, relishing in the weight of his dick in my hand, and tossed the washer onto the floor. He cleared his throat. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.” I couldn’t resist, so I edged back up to straddle his hips. I was fully dressed, but he was still stark naked. “Ask me anything.”

“If I told you your clothes were offending me right now, would you take them off?”

I leaned down and kissed him softly. “I thought you were about to ask a serious question.”

He put his hands on my thighs and lifted his hips a little. “It was serious,” he said. His eyes were alight with mischief. “I have to admit, the view from here is pretty damn amazing.”

I wiggled my arse on his lengthening dick. “View ain’t bad from here either.”

He bit his lip. “How long are we gonna wait?” he asked.

Jesus. He was so eager for it. “I’m taking my cues from you,” I said. “I don’t want you to regret it.”

He laughed. “Regret it? God, Spencer, it’s all I can think about.”

I rubbed my arse on his cock. “I can feel that.”

He put his head back and groaned. “I’m trying to be good. I just wanted us to talk more and not end up in bed all the time, but”—he waved his hand at the bed—“that hasn’t really worked out.”

I laughed. “How about we make it till the weekend at least.”

“But that’s so far away.” He pouted. “Next time I have these great ideas about abstinence, please tell me to wake up to myself.”

I kissed him with smiling lips. “We’re hardly abstaining, considering what we just did. We’re just treading cautiously.”

He made a thoughtful face, then cocked his head. “What’s that sound?”

I listened. It sounded like it was coming from the kitchen. “Shit. Dinner.” I jumped off him and ran out to find the pot of water boiling furiously.

Apparently all Andrew could do was laugh. He called out, “See? This is why I order in!”

“Have you had a guy in your bed distracting you every night of the week for most of your adult life?” I called back to him.

He replied, “Only the most memorable ones.”

“Well, for your information, I’m putting the spaghetti in the boiling water. You know, so when you cook this for me next time, you’ll know what to do.”

It took a moment, but he walked out of my room with his pants on and pulled his shirt over his head. “Me? Cook for you?”

“Yep.”

He went to the bathroom, and a minute or two later when he came back out, he walked over to where I was at the stove and looked at the pasta sticking out of the pot. “I’ve told you before, I don’t cook. But shouldn’t that be
in
the water?”