Cooking Up A Storm

This good sex story excerpt from Amy Andrew's Playing It Safe is published with permission.

Good sex story from by Amy Andrew

Except, when he let himself into his apartment, Donovan was already there, stirring the chili he’d texted he was going to cook, dominating his kitchen, looking so fucking right and tasty enough to eat, and his need ballooned further.

“Hey,” Donovan said, turning, putting his beer down on the benchtop as he leaned his ass against it, smiling all big and sexy as his gaze took a slow and very thorough detour over Beckett’s body, which pushed it from strung tight to excruciatingly rigid. “Man…” he muttered, his gaze hot as he trailed off. He looked like he wanted to say more but didn’t.

Beckett swallowed. “What?”

He took a beat to respond then shook his head. “Nah, I really shouldn’t say what I’m thinking.”

Oh, fuck that. He should—he really fucking should. “Humour me.”

“I just…wouldn’t have thought any guy would look good in Lycra, and yet—” His gaze travelled over Beckett in another exhaustive inspection. “You look fucking incredible.” His eyes finally returned to Beckett’s. “I want to just peel you out of that thing and eat you like a banana.”

Beckett’s heart banged to a stop at the frankness of Donovan’s desires. He’d been loosening up more and more over these past days, growing more comfortable with banter and expressions of need, but that admission was next level.  

“See?” He smiled, but his knuckles were white, curled around the rolled edge of the bench. “I told you.”

But Beckett barely heard him, his backpack sliding from his fingers and thunking to the ground. Forgetting about his sweatiness, he strode across the space that separated them under Donovan’s heated gaze. 

The spices from the cooking chili as heady as his lust, Beckett advanced, his pulse thrumming through his head, until finally he was close enough to touch. And he did, sliding his hands onto Donovan’s chest then his neck. His body pressed into Donovan’s, his hard dick rubbed against Donovan’s, his mouth slid against Donovan’s, his tongue duelled with Donovan’s. 

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The other man tasted hot with spice and cool with beer as a flurry of pants and groans eddied around them. Donovan’s fists curled into the front of Beckett’s Lycra top as Beckett’s palms curled around Donovan’s ass cheeks and squeezed. They contracted at the touch, and he wanted to bite them so damn badly he squeezed them harder.

And he wasn’t tight anymore, he wasn’t rigid—for the most part, anyway. Everything was unravelling at a rate of knots, and he was so fucking loose he could barely stand. Hell, as Donovan’s tongue danced with his, Beckett didn’t want to stand. He wanted to get on his knees and blow Donovan’s brain.

Dropping the delicious bulk of glutes, Beckett moved his hands to Donovan’s front, grasping the steel bar of arousal that had been grinding on his since their bodies had met. Donovan grunted at the contact, his lips falling away, and as he fought and panted for breath, Beckett found and reefed down the zip of Donovan’s fly. 

Making a deep noise of triumph in the back of his throat, Beckett was reaching inside for Donovan’s erection at the same time he was falling to his knees. He pulled it free of the confines of underwear, the loud wash of his pulse filling his ears as the engorged contours of Donovan’s dick filled his hand. Jesus—he was hung. Granite hard, pleasingly long, and satisfyingly thick. 

Donovan Bane, lord of the cock. 

Beckett had seen it before, of course. Hell, he’d felt it before. But never from this angle. From the underside looking up, it was fucking glorious. 

“Beckett.” Donovan’s voice rumbled out, his voice deep as pitch.

“Yeah?” he asked, distracted by the taut, spongy crown flushed purple and leaking.

“What are you doing?”

Reluctantly dragging his eyes off the monster penis in his grasp, Beckett made eye contact with its owner. There was something really hot about looking up at Donovan, his dick standing out and proud between them. He pulled in a ragged breath. “I’m going to suck your cock until you come down my throat, and then I’m going to swallow every last drop.”

And, just in case Donovan needed a preview of what that would be like, Beckett, his gaze locked with Donovan’s, leaned in and swiped the flat of his tongue over the slit in the crown. The salt and tang of Donovan’s arousal and the rough pant falling from his parted lips combined to act like rocket fuel to a system already overdosed on lust. 

“That okay?” he asked, sitting back on his haunches, his voice raspy with need.

He knew he had to give Donovan an out. They’d stepped things up considerably tonight, and as much as he wanted to gobble up Donovan’s dick, this was uncharted territory. 

Donovan’s Adam’s apple bobbed convulsively, and for a moment, Beckett thought he might deny the request—deny himself. There was certainly a war being waged behind those brown eyes of his. But then he let out a breath and the whites of his knuckles returned to their normal colour. “Yeah,” he said, his throat bobbing again. 

Beckett’s heart leaped in his chest both at the courage it had taken and the prospect of what was to come. “Good decision,” he teased with a smile as he once again closed the distance between his mouth and the crown of Donovan’s cock. 

He went slowly, wanting Donovan to be screaming with need when his lips finally touched down on the taut, erect flesh. Beckett was excruciatingly aware of Donovan watching his progress, of the flare of the other man’s nostrils and the choppy timbre of his breathing as the distance narrowed, of the shuddery release of breath as Beckett’s lips brushed warm, hard steel.

Beckett’s tongue slipped out to lap at the slit again, the cock bucking at the contact as Donovan sucked in a harsh breath. Salt danced along Beckett’s tastebuds, and the aroma of musk filled his nostrils. “Mmm,” he murmured, “you taste good.” Then he sucked on the thick, spongy head, swirling his tongue around and around like a lollypop, savouring the unique tang that was all man.    


Donovan’s eyes shut and his knuckles whitened and he groaned a groan that seemed to rumble up from the floor. It was a very satisfying noise going straight to Beckett’s head. 

Both of them. 

Knowing that he was Donovan’s first. That he was the guy to introduce this man to the delights of his first ever guy-on-guy blowjob? It was utterly dizzying.  

He felt like he’d invented fellatio. And they hadn’t even got to the good bit.

Beckett opened wide then and took Donovan deeper, filling his mouth with him, taking him as far as he could, watching his face, watching the flush of his cheeks deepen and his lips part. A low, guttural, “Beckett,” fell from Donovan’s mouth as his eyes opened and he watched Beckett hold steady. The look of awe and desire in Donovan’s gaze reached inside him and yanked, flooding his system with a heady hit of sexual power. 

This man. This man calling his name. This man calling his name and looking at him with lust and wonder? This was what he wanted. 

Beckett retreated then, sucking hard around the girth as he withdrew, satisfied when Donovan groaned again, and his eyes fluttered closed as he swirled his tongue three times around the tip before withdrawing completely. Satisfyingly, the flushed crown glistened with saliva—his saliva—and then he took him again, all the way down and all the way back.

And repeated it, over and over, his eyes shut, savouring the taste of Donovan, savouring the smell of him, savouring the sounds of his pleasure. Greedy for his release but never wanting it to end. 


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Donovan could barely stand as Beckett’s mouth weaved its hot, wet magic. His heart was beating wildly in his chest and the air in his lungs was thick as mud and he was gripping the damn bench so hard he was going to leave goddamn finger marks in the laminate.

It wasn’t the first time Donovan had had his dick sucked. It was the first time he’d had it sucked by a guy. And that was big. The fact that it was this guy. This guy who was gentle and kind and patient and who had demanded nothing of him and had jolted him awake from the state of hibernation he’d forced himself into through fear and necessity? 

That was bigger. 

Because it was so much more than a physical experience. So much more than a blowjob. It was as if this man could see inside him, knew the makeup of every single cell. They had a connection that burrowed right under his skin. That went deeper than the slide of Beckett’s lips down his cock—although good fucking Christ, it was making him see stars. 

Hell, the wet tug of his mouth was bringing Donovan to his fucking knees.

And when Beckett cupped his heavy, aching balls and squeezed, Donovan cried out at the hot jolt of pleasure and pain, sparks igniting along the pathway of his spine, muscles squeezing and relaxing, rippling from his belly button to his groin and back again, propelling him closer to climax. 

He gasped at the sensations, his eyes opening, his gaze falling on Beckett, who was watching him, watching his face as he sucked his cock, and Donovan had to lock his legs they were trembling so damn hard. The sight of that sandy-blond head bobbing back and forth swelled in his chest. Those lips widening, stretching as he took Donovan’s cock deep then narrowing on the withdrawal, his cheeks hollowing as he sucked long and hard and good, his fingers rolling and stroking his testicles, all the while his eyes never leaving Donovan’s face.

That was hot as fuck. 

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And all Donovan needed. Beckett looking at him like that, looking at him like he was the best fucking thing he’d ever had in his mouth and, yet, precious all at once. His gaze reverent, his mouth wicked. 

Like he was praying but not for anything remotely holy.   

“Beckett…” Donovan groaned as the first twinge of his release undulated through muscles deep and low. And then, “Beckett!” his eyes widening and his heart skipping a beat as the orgasm roared out in one powerful pulse. 

Panicked by the intensity, he tried to pull away, pull out of Beckett’s mouth in case he was just being polite about his intentions earlier, but the other man refused to yield, clinging to Donovan, gripping his hips hard and sucking his cock harder, working it and working it and working it, then taking him all the way to the back at just the right moment for Donovan to spill his load right down his throat, feeling it undulate around him as Beckett swallowed all he had to give, and Donovan was gasping and panting for breath and utterly, utterly spent.



Begging for more? Buy Playing it Safe, visit Amy’s website or read her profile.

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