Tour Stop, Guest Blog & Giveaway: Covet by Yolande Kleinn

JACK’S FANTASY #5

Maybe it would be sweet.

There was a certain look Colin got in his eyes sometimes, a distance that had nothing to do with Jack. Moments where his attention drifted elsewhere, to some private corner of his mind, and his expression shifted to something almost wistful. It always happened without warning, always passed quickly.

Jack didn’t mind. There was something inexpressibly charming in that look. Every time he caught a glimpse he wanted to ask what Colin was thinking about.

That look made Colin look strangely innocent, though Jack suspected he was anything but.

He let himself imagine it when he was alone, not caring at all whether the fantasy was realistic. He pictured this, one among so many possibilities, as he took himself in hand.

Colin would kiss him, eager but shy. There would be the barest hint of hesitation in his touch. A question which Jack would be happy to answer by tucking him close.

“Can I?” Colin would ask when the kiss ended, and he would sound so breathless and lost. So hopeful.

“Anything. Anything you want.”

And Colin would drop smoothly to his knees. There would be mischief in his face as he met Jack’s eyes. A glint of heat that should have clashed with the warm blush staining cheeks and throat, but somehow it perfectly complemented the hint of bashfulness.

There would be no hesitation in the moment, of course. Colin’s hands would be perfectly steady as they opened Jack’s fly—touch warm as he pulled Jack’s cock into the open air—and then he would pause. Perfect stillness to savor the moment. And Jack would have to bite his own lower lip in order to stay patient through the wild burst of desire.

Then Colin would take him in, and the wet, perfect heat of his mouth would be Jack’s undoing.

Jack would hold out as long as he could. He would thread his fingers through Colin’s hair. Keep his touch gentle despite the rush of arousal building beneath his skin, despite the frantic speed of his own pulse, despite the hum of desperation mounting in his blood.

And fuck, Colin would be a sight. Mouth stretched wide, eyes bright with feeling. Fingers circling the base of Jack’s cock, stroking in rhythm with the slide of his mouth. Perfect counterpoint to that deliberate suction and clever tongue.

So much sensation—too much to resist for long—and Jack would warn Colin when he was close. A tug where his fingers were still curled in Colin’s hair. A moment of eye contact as Colin looked up at him, expression bright with arousal.

But Colin wouldn’t pull off. Hell no, he would duck forward instead, taking Jack in as far as he could. His eyes would close as he hollowed his cheeks, as he sucked hard, and the maneuver would drag Jack over the edge of orgasm.

There would be no hint of shyness in Colin’s face when Jack returned to earth. Only satisfied smugness and shivering heat, and Jack wouldn’t make him wait. He would drop quickly to the floor himself, and tug Colin close—practically into his lap—frantic now to return the favor.

Colin would cling to his shoulders as Jack opened his jeans and curled his fingers around Colin’s cock. God, it would feel so good in his hand, and he wouldn’t waste any time. He’d get right to work, savoring every gasp and moan and shudder of the man in his arms.

He wouldn’t make it quick, though. No, once he had Colin beneath his hands, he would make this last. Tease and torment, stroke him right to the edge only to retreat at the last instant. Just to hear him sob. Just to feel him shake in Jack’s hold. Just to enjoy the breathless pleading for more.

And when Colin finally spilled across his fingers it would be glorious. A cry muffled against Jack’s throat, a tightening of the arms around his shoulders, a fractured stillness. Enough to take any man’s breath away.

Then in the moments after, Colin would look at him—winded and sated—and smile.