Page 22 of The Fighter

I wrinkled my nose and stretched my jaw wide. “Guess I’m not used to moving those muscles a lot.”

“The smiling ones?”

“Yeah, those.”

Con’s thumb moved, rubbing my bottom lip. “Me either.”

“Maybe… we could practice on ‘em together.”

He huffed a soft laugh. “Maybe.”

“Con?”

“Yeah?”

“Iamhungry.”

A smile again, before he reached over me. I’d noticed a tray on the table beside the bed but hadn’t paid attention to what was on it. And it didn’t fucking matter. I’d eat whatever he told me to, whether it was chocolate or broken glass. I closed my eyes again, knowing he’d have to feed me because I couldn’t use my hands. Something cold touched my lips, and I opened my mouth. The food rolled onto my tongue.

“Close and chew,” he said.

And I did, happy when the taste of a fresh grape squirted in my mouth. I swallowed it and then opened my eyes, parting my lips for more.

He fed me more grapes, close to a whole bunch, and I swore I’d never had a grape in my life that tasted like that. Maybe it was because the skin held a salty essence from Con’s fingers, or maybe it was because I breathed in his scent with every inhale. Either way, I wasn’t sure I ever wanted this to stop, Con feeding me slowly.

And then his lips were on mine, his tongue pushing into my mouth. He’d eaten a couple of grapes himself and so that was what I tasted, grapes and Con, and I thought then if someone made that wine, I’d buy every damn bottle.

He raised his head and ran his hand up my face, into my hair, where he gripped the strands and tugged. “You taste good.”

“So do you.”

He spent the next ten minutes hand feeding me. I’d never had what Con called hummus, and this was flavorful, spicy. He said it was chickpeas and roasted red peppers, but this was a weird paste stuff on pita chips. I didn’t ask questions because itwas delicious as hell. I just opened my mouth and let him feed me.

I’d never thought this would be something that would turn me on, but it did, because every now and then, while I was chewing, Con would let his hands drift down my body. He’d stroke the ridges in my stomach, or he’d pinch my nipples. One time he placed a cold grape in his mouth, then lowered his head to suck on my nipple, the hot and cold sensation causing my cock to fill. I looked down. Con was hard too.

He held up my head and let me drink from a bottle of water and then finished off the bottle himself. Before I could think of what was next, he lowered his head and took my cock in his mouth to the root.

I arched off the bed with a cry, and he slammed a palm on my hips, holding me steady. I squeezed my eyes shut and focused on breathing and not coming as the tip of my shaft touched the back of his throat, and he swallowed around it. Holy shit, could Con suck a dick. I didn’t realize he had it in him. So composed, so in control. I should have known though.

Especially when he raised his head with one hand gripped around the base of my shaft tightly, the other playing with my balls. “I’ve been wanting this in my mouth since I first saw you, did you know that?”

I couldn’t speak, so I just shook my head.

He slapped my cock against his tongue before descending again and then hollowed his cheeks as he sucked.

I didn’t know when or how he got lube, but I felt slick fingers at my entrance, and then he didn’t waste time, plunging two fingers past the tight ring of muscle.

I pulled on the ropes binding my arms, feeling the ache in my shoulders from the position, but not giving a fuck because Con was sucking my dick like a pro while fucking me with his fingers, brushing my prostate with every thrust.

“Goddamn,” I moaned. “I’m going to come, Con. I can’t?—”

He pulled off immediately, his fingers left my ass, and then he was across the bed, grabbing a condom. I deep breathed, focused on not coming because that familiar tingle was in my balls,so fucking close. I looked down at my cock, wet with Con’s spit and waited for him to roll the condom down his cock.

But…he didn’t.

He tore open the package with his teeth and rolled the condom on me.

“Con?”