Page 132 of The Incredible Ordinary

“Jordy,” I rasp.

He swallows around me, and with a harsh shout, I come, cock pulsing against his tongue, hot bursts of cum hitting the back of his throat.

He shifts back onto his haunches, keeping the tip in his mouth. A trickle of my release slides down from the corner of his mouth.

I’m curled over him, chest heaving, vision narrowed down to him and him alone.

My cock falls out of his mouth, and his eyes are locked with mine when he wipes his forearm over his lips. A moment later,he’s kissing his way up my body, licking my abs, my chest, the curve of my neck, until his face is hovering over mine.

The kiss that follows is fierce and intense and tastes like me. My tongue pushes into his mouth, enjoying the way I taste in him.

I cup his face with both hands and pull him down on top of me.

I roll us over and dip my tongue into the hollow of his throat. I feel him swallow against it.

His cock pushes against the fabric of his slacks, and there’s a splotch of wetness where the tip is.

I cup him through his pants, and he gives a pained moan.

“Don’t make me come in my pants,” he says, and tries to bat my hand away.

I hum.

“I wasn’t planning on it.”

He opens one eye and peers at me. “What are you planning on, then?”

“You got a taste of me. It’s only fair if I get a taste, too, wouldn’t you say?”

He sucks in a breath and gives a jerky nod.

“Only fair,” he agrees, and drops down on his back.

While I go down on him.

JORDAN

FEBRUARY

“Theo!”I call out from the bottom of the stairs while I glance at my watch. I don’t want to sound impatient, but I’ve been standing here for a good fifteen minutes by now, and I’m eager to get going. Every minute I stand here waiting for my son means more minutes till I get to see Milán again.

It’s been three months since we started… whatever it is we’re doing. It’s not a relationship in the usual sense. We talk a lot about everything and anything, like we usually do, just not about us in any way where we’d have to define what we’re doing.

It’s not even because we’re tiptoeing around it, too scared to say anything. It’s more of a mutual reluctance to rock the boat because things are really fucking good. Really. Fucking. Good.

It’s the easiest whatever-the-fuck-kind-of-ship-this-is I’ve ever been in.

We’re in the exact same space. Same latitude. Same longitude. I’ve barely felt like I’m from the same planet as most of the people in my life for a long, long time. I would’ve been happy with the same continent. Same city seemed like a stretch. Same street even more so.

But now here he is. Same space. Where he fits with no effort.

It feels too good to be true.

The sound of running footsteps jolts me out of my thoughts, and Theo appears at the top of the stairs. He’s tugging a sweatshirt over his head, face red, hair a mess.

“I can’t find my cleats.”

I do my best not to sigh.