Page 56 of Stables Spurs Suits
I didn’t come here for this, but the moment his mouth is on mine, I can’t resist him. I deepen the kiss, and he starts guiding us toward the back, where the old fitting rooms are. Breaking our kiss, he reaches for the handle of the one on the right with a tarnished gold number two on the door.
“This time I think we should go somewhere a little more private,” he teases, then he pushes open the door. It’s just as the old tailor, Mr. Lawrence, left it. There are two brass hooks on one side, a bench seat across the back wall, and after he pulls me inside and closes the door, I see the antique mirror still hung on the back. The edges show an aged patina, but the image of us in the glass is still perfectly clear.
He launches himself forward, mouth clashing with mine, hands tugging at my shirt, my belt buckle, my pants, my hair, and I’m swept up in the heat of it all. In the swirling scent of him that makes my stomach flip and my heart hammer in that almost too good to be true kind of way.
His hand wraps around my throbbing cock as his mouth moves down my neck, then my chest, until he’s circling my nipple with his tongue.
“Hmm, Matthew,” I moan, watching us in the mirror. His perfect round ass is tight against his pants, and his shirt is tucked in all businesslike.
I turn him around and lock onto his gaze in the glass.
“Fuck, you’re sexy as hell,” I breathe, kissing down the side of his neck as I make quick work of his shirt, stripping it over hisback as he unbuttons his pants and shoves them down, his thick, veiny cock springing to attention.
I press one hand below his stomach, and wrap the other around his length, stroking him slowly and pulling him back against me until my cock wedges into his crease.
“Oh, fuck that’s good,” he groans, pushing his ass back and rising up onto his toes a little.
“So good,” I reply, and I hold his stare as we work up a rhythm, me stroking his cock and him grinding mine between his ass cheeks. His hands shove out to brace himself on the narrow walls of the fitting room.
“Fuck, Atlas,” he sighs. The ripples of pleasure build inside me, pushing out to every nerve ending like stretching a rubber band, further and further. It’s incredible even though you know it’s going to only go so far before it snaps.
His breaths come faster, gasps building in time with my strokes, until his back arches and his ass clenches around my cock, and the band holding us both together snaps.
“Fuuuuck,” he cries as ribbons of cum bring him sweet relief.
My orgasm hits at the same moment, and it hits hard, my whole body trembling. My chest burns as my heart pounds like it’s been waiting for this for years, not days.
“Wow,” he sighs, slipping off me and using his underwear to clean up before pulling on his pants without them. “That was so hot.”
“It really was,” I reply, pulling mine up and latching the belt buckle. He grins down at it.
“I like that one. It’s your favorite, right?”
“Yeah, how’d you know?” I ask.
“You wear the stallion one the most. The horseshoe one second most,” he replies, and it brings a warmth to my chest that spreads down my body knowing he notices things like that about me.
I sit on the bench seat to catch my breath. The tiny room is filled with the scent of us, and I want to just stay here in this quiet place, surrounded by that scent forever. In here, nothing else matters but us.
“Do you want a drink?” he asks, opening the door, and I grab my shirt and pull it on before following him back out to reality.
“Sure, water would be great.”
He opens a cupboard on the far wall, and hidden inside is a mini fridge full of soda cans and water bottles. He tosses me one, and I crack the lid and drink it down greedily.
“You know, I have been thinking about our problem,” he says, taking a seat in his desk chair, and I nearly choke on the water.
“We have a problem?” I reply cautiously.
“Well, my problem, the problem of us. Of me getting the offer and us… you know?”
“Oh, that problem,” I reply with a small nod and as much of a smile as I can muster at being referred to as a problem.
“I think I have to do this. Like you said. It’s what I’ve been working toward for years. It’s the next step in bringing it all to life. Sure, it’s a junior position, but it’s in the project space. You know?”
So many thoughts swirl in my head. How would I know? What the hell was this? Was this one last go on the Atlas ride before leaving? It’s all the things I can’t—no, won’t say.
“So you’re going?”
