Mac lifted his head, looking left and then right. “I don’t see anyone else here, so I must be talking about me.”
I thought about the easy out he was offering, especially in the wake of my realization that I could fall for him if I wasn’t careful, and then I took a leaf out of his book and decided to live in themoment. “I’m naked and hard in a bed with you. I think that ship has sailed. And just so we’re clear, the horse you’re talking about is…?”
Mac lowered his head, his nose brushing my neck on the way to planting a kiss on my jaw. “I’m asking if I can fuck you. I’ll take it slow.”
“What if I don’t want it slow?”
He subjected me to a look that said there were places my awkwardness wasn’t appreciated, and this was one of them. “I’ll do whatever you want me to do. Slow. Fast. Hard. Soft. Deep. Just the tip. You can direct me. I’ll be nothing but your… fuckpuppet.”
“’Fuckpuppet?’”
“Fuckpuppet,” he repeated, both of us smiling at the absurdity of the word. He sobered quickly. “Maybe it’s not the right time for this. I have a tendency to bulldoze over stuff.”
My response to that was twofold, one hand groping in the drawer at the side of the bed for a condom—I might not have had any action, but I’d been on enough dates in recent times thanks to Finn that I’d considered the possibility and prepared accordingly—while the other yanked his head down for a kiss that told him in no uncertain terms to shut up and get on with it.
Once I deemed he’d gotten the message, I rolled over onto my front, resting my head on my folded arms. “Step one is to get me ready.” He really had been doing his research, or maybe it was obvious, no further explanation needed. Neither did he balk at fingering me. And even more pleasing, he was good at it. Slow and careful, and attentive to what I needed.
“Does it feel good?” he asked once he’d worked his way up to two lubed fingers buried deep.
“It does,” I answered honestly.
“I’ll admit,” he said as he continued to slide the digits in and out, “that it’s got me wondering what it feels like.”
“Next time I blow you, I’ll give you a sample.”
“Okay.”
I hid my smile at his calm acceptance in the crook of my elbow. Should I feel bad about corrupting a straight man? Perhaps. But it seemed that part of my moral compass had gone missing in the face of Mac’s charms. Or maybe it had never existed.
Mac sensed when I was ready without me having to tell him, sitting back on his haunches and rolling the condom over his cock before adding a liberal amount of lube. “You sure you want to do this?” I asked. “The rest of the stuff we’ve been doing is one thing, but once you fuck a guy up the arse, I’d say it goes beyond experimental.”
The words were counterproductive to getting fucked, which after the extended period of being fingered by Mac, I currently wanted more than anything else in the world, but I wouldn’t be doing my due diligence if I didn’t at least point out to him how far he was taking things.
Mac’s frustrated breath said he found my speech tiresome. “I don’t give a damn if I’m bisexual! Or if I’m gay and I’ve been living in denial for twenty-three years. And I’m not fucking a guy. I’m fucking you!”
“Alright then.”
“Sorry.” He pressed a kiss to my shoulder as an apology. “It’s the wrong time to get shirty. You were trying to help. I know that.”
“How about you fuck me, if you’re so damn sure about it?”
“Yeah…”
“Slow,” I urged, as he moved into position.
“I’m your fuckpuppet. I do whatever you say.”
“Stop using that word.”
“Yes, Laurent.”
“Don’t say ‘yes, Laurent’ in that tone.”
“No, Laurent.”
“You’re impossible.” Thankfully, I had other things to think about, the blunt head of Mac’s cock already seeking entrance, and forcing me to concentrate on staying relaxed so I didn’t come across like a virgin who’d never done this before.
“Slow enough?”
