Page 69 of Yard Sale

“I don’t have time for this, okay? My boyfriend and I are trying to enjoy a nice beach day.”

He made a choking noise. “Boyfriend?”

“Oh.” I smiled just as Tiago walked back out onto the deck and headed toward me. “Yes. Boyfriend.”

“You don’t have to pretend for me, sweetheart. I know I hurt your pride, but this is beneath you.”

“Hold, please.” I pulled the phone away from my ear and hit the button to put it on speaker. “Tiago, honey?”

He stopped beside my chair with a frown. “You okay?”

“My shit-for-brains ex-boyfriend seems to think that I’m making you up because he hurt my little feelings.”

He got a little knowing smirk on his face, then laughed. “That crusty old professor guy you were with?”

“Who the fuck—” Leon started to demand. I dropped the phone on the table as Tiago swung his leg over me and sat on my lap.

He lowered his head, then spoke in a whisper right against my ear. “Play it up?”

“If this is too much,” I whispered back, but he shook his head.

“No, Aravind. You are not too much.” He took me by the chin and kissed me, groaning into it. It might have been for show—for pretend—but I knew the noises were genuine. He was hard as a rock, rubbing his hard dick against my stomach though his thin trunks. When he pulled back, I felt dazed and nearly forgot where I was and what we were doing until I could hear Leon yelling my name and Tiago laughing. “Shit, babe. Are you still on the phone?”

“Oh. Right.” I reached for it.

“Don’t you fucking dare, Ara!” Leon shouted. “We are not fucking done he⁠—”

I punched the button, and the call cut off, and I let it drop back to the table. The moment of silence stretched out between us, and then Tiago rocked his hips.

“Do you want to⁠—”

“Fuck yes.”

He laughed as he rolled off me, then offered both hands to haul me up. I left my phone on the table as I turned away from what felt like my past and dragged him inside.

“Oh my god, oh my god. Oh shit.” Those were the first couple of English words I’d heard from Tiago since I started eating his ass. He really didn’t speak a lot of French, and his accent was very subtle, but he seemed to default into his other language when I had my tongue buried deep inside him, his balls rolling in my hand.

I’d been tempted to gag him with another pair of my panties, but I was glad I didn’t. Hearing his unchecked noises was just as good as seeing his mouth stuffed with pink lace.

I added two fingers alongside my tongue before pulling back, and I kissed each globe of his ass before I rose up, rocking my dick between his thighs. He grunted and made a valiant but failed attempt to close his legs to give me friction.

It wasn’t what I wanted anyway. I had a bottle of lube and a condom waiting for me to finish stretching him out all nice and pretty.

“You good?” I asked when he went silent.

He made a distressed noise, even as he nodded. “It’s a lot,” he managed. His hands were clawing the sheets. “M’too close.”

I eased back from tormenting his prostate, pulling out all the way until just the tips of my fingers were stretching his rim. Fuck, he was so gorgeous like this. His asshole was a dusky, deep rose and hairy like the rest of his body.

I liked the way his hole twitched around me, and as much as I wanted to fuck face-to-face so I could kiss the shit out of him, being able to watch myself slide deep inside his hole was better.

“Aravind,” he gasped. “Fucking…please. Please…”

“Oh, sweet boy, I really like the way you beg.”

His entire body shuddered, and his elbows gave out, sending him down so his torso was on the mattress with his ass in the air.

“If I could paint, I would recreate this image and hang it above my bed so I could jerk off to it every single night.”