Coda Books 04 - Strawberries for Dessert (MM)

took his hand and pulled him toward me, and he came. I leaned close to him and gently kissed his neck, just below his ear, and he shivered. The water droplets on his skin tasted sweet on my tongue, and I wondered if it was my imagination that they tasted like strawberries. I followed their trail, kissing and licking down his neck to his collarbone, then along his collarbone to tiny pool of water in the hollow of his throat. I let my tongue caress him there, and he sighed and leaned back against the countertop behind him.
    I moved lower, chasing water drops down his chest. I got on my knees and followed them over his stomach to his groin. Once there, I took the slender tip of his cock in my mouth, gripping his ass tight with both hands. I swirled my tongue around his head.
    “Oh God,” he moaned. He grabbed the back of my head. His fingers knotted in my hair, and he pushed me further down his shaft. He held me there for a moment before starting to move. I let him lead, let him use his hand in my hair to guide me up and down. He moaned again, sort of a soft sigh. I loved the sounds he made as he got off.
    My own erection was wedged painfully into my jeans, and I reached to unbutton them. In one quick movement, he pulled out of my mouth. He pulled hard on my hair so that I got to my feet, and he kissed me insistently. He let go of my hair, and he started to unbutton my pants. I put one arm around his waist, pulling his still-wet body close.
    My other hand wrapped around his erection. He was breathing hard and moaning. His slender fingers slid into my pants and—
    We both froze. “Good grief, what dreadful timing,” he said breathlessly, and I laughed at what an incredible understatement it was.
    “Who could that be?”
    “That,” I said as I disengaged myself from him and started to button my pants back up over my erection, “is probably our dinner.” I answered the door with my clothes half-wet and sticking to my body and an embarrassing bulge in my pants, but the room service guy was either oblivious or used to it. He had the item I had requested from the concierge, and I gave him a generous tip. He was gone by the time Cole came out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist.
    “What did you order?” he asked.
    “Hamburgers.”
    He smiled. “And the wine?”
    I took it out of the bucket and handed it to him. His cheeks turned crimson, but he smiled. It was a bottle of Arbor Mist Blackberry Merlot, and given that I had to pay extra for somebody to run out and buy it, it was probably the most expensive five-dollar bottle of wine ever.
    “It’s a red,” he said mockingly. “Why on earth is it on ice?”
    “They probably figured anyone who drinks this stuff doesn’t know enough about wine to know the difference.”
    “Probably.” He stepped up to me and put one arm around my waist. “Thank you.”
    “Don’t thank me yet,” I said as I kissed him. “After we eat, I’ll finish giving you your real present.”
    We ate dinner and drank his cheap wine, and then finished what we had started after his shower. And like always, when it was over, he moved to the other side of the bed, not touching me, and turned out the light.
    I was just drifting off to sleep when I felt the featherlight touch of his fingertips on my wrist. It was something he had never done before, and it made me smile. I opened my eyes. It was dark in the room, and he was nothing more than still shadow across from me. His fingers came to a stop, lightly resting on the back of my hand. I turned it over, thinking I would hold his hand, but when I moved, he pulled quickly away.
    Was it possible that he hadn’t meant for me to know? Had he assumed I was asleep? It made my heart ache that he was so determined to keep these walls between us when neither of us wanted them. How many nights had I lay sleeping while he secretly reached out to me in the dark?
    I slid my hand slowly across to him and gripped his slender fingers. I tried to pull him toward me. He resisted, pulling against me.
    Maybe I was wrong. Maybe the contact had been accidental. Or maybe he just wasn’t ready to allow anything more. I pulled again, to no avail.
    I tried to swallow disappointment. I should have known better than to try. It wasn’t his idea, so of course he was resistant. I was about to let go of his hand when suddenly, to my surprise, the resistance stopped. I hesitated, unsure if I should try again or not. Finally, I pulled one more time, just barely.