17. Boston

CHAPTER 17

BOSTON

If home was a feeling, like I'd been thinking earlier, it might as well have been on my knees at Ford's feet. In front of him, I found myself wrapped with the same feeling of security and comfort that I'd always related to the farm, but it was also laced with something so much more . Looking up at him, my chest swelled with happiness, with an absolute feeling of rightness that I didn't think New York was capable of producing for me. Maybe I'd just been looking in the wrong places—and the wrong people—the whole time.

It didn't matter that Ford was a man and it didn't matter that maybe it wasn't socially acceptable for me to kneel for him the way I was, but it was impossible to fight against the overwhelming sense of ease that washed over me when he let me call him Sir. I didn't know what it meant, didn't understand much of what we were doing, but when I opened my mouth for him, it was like early mornings on the porch back home, watching the navy blue sky turn the most perfect shade of pink when the sun finally crested the horizon. When he tugged at my bottom lip, pulling my mouth open wider, it was the same as sitting around the hand-carved wooden table in my parents' kitchen and enjoying a plate of fresh-cooked eggs.

It was easy.

It made sense.

"Stick out your tongue." Ford's voice was rough and scratchy, completely at odds with the cool and collected look he wore on his face.

I stuck out my tongue and tipped my head back. My eyes closed, and I exhaled through my mouth, an indescribable sensation of serenity flooding into me like the gentlest tide. Ford unzipped his pants, the rich musk of his sweat and soap rushing into my nostrils on my next inhale. I groaned. It was impossible to not. My body registered a visceral and primal reaction to the closeness of him and, without thinking, I reached up and—once again—gripped his thigh.

It was my fingers against his leg that had gotten us both here in the first place. The swell of his muscle was grounding, and I flexed each finger against him, one at a time, until I could imagine what the touch would feel like if we were skin against skin.

"If any of this is too much, just tell me to stop," he whispered.

I nodded, sticking my tongue our farther.

I was ready.

Beyond ready.

Ford gently set the head of his cock against the tip of my tongue, and I blinked my eyes open so I could watch. There was something utterly entrancing about staring down the length of my nose at the thickness of his cock and the way it protruded from his body before disappearing into mine. I wanted him to give me more, but he just tapped his crown against my tongue over and over and over until I had sweat beading at my temples and I was ready to go mad.

"Don't suck yet." Ford inched himself deeper into my mouth, pressing his shaft against my tongue as he slowly thrust toward the back of my throat. "Just get used to the feel of me. The taste of me."

Spit pooled in my mouth, trailing down my chin as he stretched my jaw with the thickest part of his cock. He couldn't have been more than halfway in when he spoke again. "Close your mouth around it, Boston."

He didn't have to tell me twice. I sealed my lips around his erection with a handful of inches still not inside, and immediately my own cock swelled in response. There was an ache in my jaw that I didn't hate and to say my mouth felt full was an understatement. It was all-consuming to have another man's cock in my mouth…to have Ford's cock in my mouth. I huffed a breath out through my nose, sounding more like an agitated bull than a man.

And I was agitated, because I wanted more than a taste. I wanted to take him so far into my mouth that I choked a little. I wanted tears to leak out of my eyes from the feel of having him inside of me. But more than that, I wanted…no, I needed to do what he told me to do. For as much as I wanted to taste him in the very back of my throat, what I needed was to follow his instructions.

Between my legs, my dick pressed insistently against my fly. I was so hard it hurt, half from the feel of him in my mouth and half from the hard press of the floor against my knees. I was only uncomfortable if I thought about it, so I wiped away the tension in my calves and focused instead on the burning piece of Ford that rested calmly against my tongue .

"Your mouth is so fucking hot," Ford rasped, stroking my hair away from my face before threading his fingers through it and tugging my head back an inch. I hollowed my cheeks and blinked up at him, giving him the first proper taste of suction. He shivered, lips twisting up into a barely restrained grimace when the flared crown of his cock smashed against the roof of my mouth. I still had my fingers wrapped around his thigh and his muscles trembled beneath my touch.

I whimpered around his cock and he licked his lips, looking up at the ceiling before focusing his attention back on my face.

"Suck it, sweetheart," he whispered.

I tested out the grip he had on my hair by pulling back until his flared tip was against the backs of my teeth. He didn't use the hand in my hair to control me, but it had me feeling steady just the same. I wrapped my other hand around the exposed inches of his shaft and slid my mouth back down until I reached my thumb and forefinger.

Ford cursed under his breath and precum leaked out of my own cock in embarrassing volumes. It didn't take long for me to find a pace that worked for us both, because while I'd never sucked a cock before, I'd had my own sucked plenty of times and I at least had some semblance of what would feel good. I sucked him sloppy, with spit dribbling out my mouth and between my fingers, and I sucked him loudly, not bothering to try and hide the moans that fell out of my mouth when the tip of his cock fucked toward the back of my throat.

I was dangerously close to my own orgasm when Ford tightened his grip on my hair and gave a rough tug, yanking my head back. He fisted his cock and jerked himself with short and angry thrusts, eyes narrowed on me the entire time .

"I want to come in your mouth," he grunted, and I stuck out my tongue, giving him a target.

His eyes rolled back into his head and his hips gave one last jerk forward. Ford's hand stilled and, for a brief moment, nothing happened. The only thing I could hear was my pulse hammering in my ear, and then a low rumble from Ford as cum shot out of his already soaking wet slit. The first spray of cum landed on my tongue, the second against the corner of my mouth, my cheek, the third against my chin. Ford put his cock back into my mouth and the rest of his seed landed against the back of my tongue, the roof of my mouth, the inside of my cheeks.

It wasn't the first time I'd tasted cum before. I'd tried mine on more than one occasion, but it wasn't anything like Ford. His orgasm was salty and hot, thick and…I sealed my lips around his cock, half over his white-knuckled grip, and I sucked him hard, doing my best to milk the rest of the cum out of him.

I understood the human body and knew well enough that I hadn't made the cum he'd shot into my mouth, but at the same time…my brain wasn't interested in those facts. I had made that cum; I'd gotten it out of him. It was as much mine as his, and I was focused on sucking out every drop. It wasn't until he gave a soft push against the top of my head and slid his cock out with a wince that I realized I might have been hurting him. I licked my lips, blinking up at him and waiting for whatever was going to come next.

"How was I?" I asked, voice cracking.

His lashes fluttered a little bit, and he traced his swollen and purple cockhead across both of my lips. I opened for him again and he slid back into my mouth, all the way to the back of my throat. He was hard, but not as thick after his orgasm and while it hurt to have the whole of him inside me that way, it was not a hardship to bear. That was where he wanted to be and that was where I would have him.

"You were treacherously perfect, sweetheart." He let go of his cock and cradled my face into both of his hands. His cock spasmed against the roof of my mouth and I sputtered around him, not trying to get away. Not that I could, anyway. The hold on my face wasn't just affectionate.

I took the praise for what it was, huffing out breath after breath from my nose. The well-trimmed thatch of hair around the base of his cock tickling my nostrils, and I slowed my breathing and closed my eyes. I didn't want him to pull away from me. I couldn't stand the idea of space between us. If being on my knees for him was like coffee on the porch, I had no idea what this was. It was better and more than anything I'd ever felt in my life.

A sense of pride and belonging bloomed inside of me, and I closed my eyes with a happy sigh. Ford's fingers stroked across my cheeks, even as his cock finally began to soften against my tongue. Neither of us moved, but I suckled at him more and more the softer he got, fighting against the inevitable slide and release from my mouth.

When his soft and sticky dick slipped free, both of us groaned, and I pressed my cheek against the rich wool of his slacks, wrapping my arms around his leg. He hadn't even taken his pants off for this. He'd only taken his cock out of his underwear before feeding it to me and there was something so unexplainably hot about what we'd just done…with our clothes still on. Down lower, my own dick throbbed in time with every frantic beat of my heart, the pain of not co ming already morphed into something bigger than I could ever be.

"Boston."

Ford cleared his throat and gave a shake of his leg. I loosened my arms enough for him to slide down to the floor beside me. He didn't say another word as he hauled me into his lap and scooted us both back against the wall. Ford arranged me between his legs, his cock warm and soft against the small of my back, and then he busied himself with the fly of my slacks, shoving his hand behind the waistband of my underwear.

His touch was scalding hot against my inflamed erection and I cried out, bucking away from him. Ford tsked quietly in my ear, strapping his arm around my chest and pressing my back against him to restrict my movement.

"It's all right," he whispered, giving a tight, quick tug up my shaft.

"It hurts," I told him, dropping my head against his shoulder.

Ford kissed my temple, ignoring my pleas and stroking my cock with the tight and dry grip of his fist.

"It hurts," I said again.

He uncurled his fingers and raised his hand in front of my mouth. I knew what he wanted without being told. I licked his palm from the base of it to his fingers, and then he was back between my legs with his spit-slicked hold around my aching shaft.

"Do you want me to stop?" he asked, not relenting.

I shook my head and two strokes later my vision went white.

The force of my orgasm was terrifying, and I was only aware of the tight hold of Ford's arm around the front of my chest, his hand around my cock, and the searing hot spurts of cum that geysered their way out of my shaft as he wrung an orgasm out of me.

Everything hurt and everything felt perfect, and as my faculties returned, I was aware of Ford helping me to my feet, walking me up the stairs and into his bedroom. He helped me with the buttons of my shirt, the laces on my shoes, and then my head hit the pillow with the softest thud imaginable. Ford was between my knees, head bowed down as he cleaned the cum off my cock with his tongue. He didn't suck me, and I was glad. I wanted to remember it if he did and I didn't think I'd remember much from this. The moments were flashes of awareness that I'd slowly piece back together in the morning, I figured. All I knew in that moment was I'd used my mouth to make another man come. I'd done it on my knees, and I'd never felt more powerful and right in my entire life.