“What the fuck!”
“That’s for trying to be a toppy bottom,” he grits out as he roughly thrusts into me. The humor is evident in his tone, but the dominance he’s exuding is surprisingly fucking hot.
“A toppy bottom is not a term,” I rebut, only a moan takes over.
Another hand to the cheek, and I cry out again. “That’s for your inability to shut the hell up and let me fuck you.”
“Okay, okay. Jesus Christ, who are you and what have you done with Travis?”
He chuckles, grabbing a fistful of my hair and tugging as his hips undulate into my ass. The slapping sound of our skin connecting is loud, but so fucking hot, and the easy, slick glide of his cock into my ass is erotic and addicting.
My dick is fully hard once again, hanging heavy between my legs.
Travis’s grip on my hips is bruising, as is the one in my hair. I can’t get enough, and based on the noises coming out of him, I’d say he can’t either.
“Fuck, Mateo,” he groans. “Your ass is so fucking tight and hot. Feels so fuckinggood. AndGod,you look so fucking perfect taking my cock. The sight of you swallowing me up is enough to make me bust.”
I push myself back, meeting his thrusts, going out of my mind with need. The pleasure and the emotions rolling through me simultaneously are crazy.
“Oh, fuck,” he breathes out as his movements get a little jerkier, and I know he’s close. His grip tightens on me as he punches his hips once… twice… three more times, before he hips slam into me, and he spills his release on a deep, thunderous groan.
Once he finishes coming, Travis is careful as he pulls out of me. Using a hand to spread me open, I feel the pad of his finger circle my used hole, and then feel the pressure of him pushing that finger inside. If I had to guess, I’d say he’s pushing his come back into me, but I don’t look. My chest is tight, and everything feels too much right now.
I just need a minute before facing him. This wasa lot.It was fucking incredible, but a lot, nonetheless.
Travis slides off the bed, leaving the room, only to come back a moment later. A quick glance over my shoulder shows me that he went to get a washcloth. He cleans himself off before climbing onto the bed and cleaning me up. The act somehow feels more intimate than the sex. It makes me uncomfortable.
“Come on,” he murmurs, startling me out of my thoughts. With a quick tap to my thigh, he gets off the bed, heading to the door.
“Where are we going?” I ask as I follow.
“To the hot tub.”
Random, but okay.
He swipes the open bottle of champagne off the table on his way out. Neither of us has clothes on—or shoes, for that matter—so stepping onto the back deck is fuckingfreezing. I’ve never seen two grown men jump into a hot tub so fast in my life.
“Jesus fucking Christ, this water is hot,” I curse under my breath.
Travis chuckles. “That’s why it’s called ahottub.”
“Okay, smartass, you’re so hilarious.”
He flashes me a smirk before bringing the bottle up to his lips and taking a swig. Passing it to me, he maneuvers until he’s positioned behind me, my back to his front. I take a swig of the champagne to avoid having to ask what he’s doing.
Deft hands land on my shoulders, massaging the area firmly. Hot lips press down on my neck, goosebumps blooming from the touch. “How are you doing?” he asks, mouth right beside my ear.
A stupid lump forms in my throat. I have to swallow around before I can respond. “I’m fine,” I manage to grit out, but it doesn’t sound believable at all.
Instead of calling me out on my internal freakout that I know he’s picked up on, Travis simply continues to work out the tension in my shoulders and back. It feels so fucking good. He takes his time, his hand sometimes dipping down and rubbing at my chest.
It’s the first time that I’ve ever let anybody take care of me like this after sex. Usually, it’s always me doing it. The role reversal feels odd, but it’s nice. Really nice. Like maybe it’s okay to allow myself to be taken care of sometimes. It’s becoming clear that maybe it’s okay to sometimes switch up the roles. It’s okay to give up a little control from time to time. I’ve spent way too many years holding on to the control because it was the only way I felt I could ensure my needs were met—and protected—but maybe I don’t always have to be in fight-or-flight mode.
At least not with Travis.
39
TRAVIS
