The Night With Mr. Maddox (Finale)
“You taste incredible, Mr. Maddox.”
His laugh came out rough, low, a little broken around the edges. “You are a pro at this, Troy. This wasn't in your resume!”
But his hands were already on my hips again—firm, hungry—and the look in his eyes was nothing short of ravenous.
And the night wasn’t over.
Blake leaned forward, the mattress dipping under his weight, and kissed me again—slow, deep, like he couldn’t get enough. His fingers moved to my jaw, then down to my collarbone, trailing across my bare chest with reverence.
Then he whispered it—against the corner of my mouth:
“My turn to taste you.”
I froze. A soft sound caught in my throat.
“Yes,” I whispered. “Yes, Mr. Maddox. I would love that.”
He smiled. Not cocky—just warm. Full of this kind of quiet awe, like I was offering him something sacred.
“If anything feels off, if you want to slow down, you tell me. No hesitation.”
“I will,” I breathed.
And then he moved. Downward. Slowly. His lips kissed a path down my chest, lingering at the soft center, brushing over each nipple with his tongue. My body arched involuntarily. I gasped when he sucked, gentle but focused, drawing another breathless noise from my mouth. He looked up at me as he did it, eyes dark and steady, like he wanted to watch every reaction.
Then he kept going. Down. Down.
His hands parted my thighs, strong but gentle, and he kissed the inside of one first, then the other—alternating, teasing me, lips soft and dragging. I felt the air on my skin, the tension in my stomach tightening.
By the time his breath ghosted over my cock, I was trembling.
And when his mouth finally wrapped around me—warm, slow, wet—I moaned so loud it echoed in the room. He took me deep, inch by inch, letting his lips stretch, his tongue swirl, his jaw work with practiced, patient hunger. His hand wrapped around the base while he sucked, and he moved like he wanted me to feel every single flick, every drag, every glide.
“Blake,” I breathed. “God, Blake…”
He kept going. Drew it out. Built me up until I was panting, twisting the sheets, my hips twitching upward against his hand. I was right there—so close I could taste it.
But then he slowed. Let me come down. Teased me at the edge.
He pulled off with a wet pop and wiped his mouth, eyes flicking up as he pressed a kiss to the inside of my thigh again.
“Look what you do to me,” he murmured.
I looked down—and yeah.
He was hard again.
Thick, flushed, his cock standing proudly against his abs, bobbing slightly with every breath.
My whole body lit up. He shifted, crawled up my frame until his lips met mine again. I could taste myself on his mouth. I didn’t care.
“Can I…?” he whispered. “Troy. Can I please fuck you?”
My stomach clenched. I swallowed, nodding.
“Yes,” I whispered. “Please.”
His lips found my forehead, then my cheek, then my jaw. “Just breathe, baby. I’ve got you.”
He reached for the drawer. The condom. A bottle of lube. He took his time—warmed the lube in his hand before touching me. His fingers were so gentle I nearly cried. He kissed my neck as he worked me open, taking his time, crooning soft praises into my ear as my body adjusted.
“You’re perfect,” he whispered. “Just like that… There you go.”
When I was ready—when I begged—he lined himself up, breath shaky.
Then—
He pushed in. Slowly. Carefully.
I gasped, hands gripping his shoulders. My legs wrapped around him instinctively.
He held still, buried partway inside me, his jaw tight with restraint.
“You’re doing so good,” he whispered, voice raw. “Breathe. You feel so good.”
I nodded, eyes glassy. “More. Please…”
He moved his cock deeper, inch by inch, groaning under his breath when he bottomed out. Then he stilled again, letting me his cock—all of it. All of him inside me.
And then he began to thrust gently.
Rhythmic. Gentle. Deep. Each thrust a wave rolling through my body. He kissed my temple, my lips, my chest, worshipping me with his hands, his mouth, his body.
“God, Troy…” he murmured. “I’ve wanted this—I've wanted you.”
I couldn’t speak. Could barely breathe. Every movement hit that perfect spot inside me, dragging moans from my throat that sounded almost unreal.
It built slowly—hotter, heavier.
Then faster.
Harder.
He shifted my leg up. Changed the angle.
I moaned , back arching. And he knew.
He chased the spot again and again until I was seeing stars.
He was right there with me—eyes locked on mine, whispering my name like a prayer.
And when we came—together—it hit like lightning. My whole body shook. His fingers dug into my hips, his forehead pressed to mine.
He pulled out gently, chest heaving.
And with a final groan, he spilled across my ass—hot, thick, wet.
Then he leaned in.
Kissed me.
Cradled me.
And the night settled.
We lay there in the hush, tangled in each other, breath mingling.
He pulled the blanket over us, tucked me in tight against his chest.
“You okay?” he whispered.
I smiled. “Yeah.”
He kissed my hair. “Good.”
___________________________________________
The Next Morning
I woke up slowly.
The sunlight streamed in through the open balcony doors, casting golden streaks across the sheets. The air was cool, soft. I could hear the city outside—muffled traffic, birdsong somewhere faint.
I turned over, groggy, sore in that good way.
The bed was empty beside me.
But the smell of coffee hit my nose.
I sat up, squinting into the light.
And there he was.
Blake.
Standing on the balcony, shirtless, in nothing but a pair of black trunks, holding a mug of coffee in one hand, his other arm resting on the railing. His hair was a little messy from sleep, falling just perfectly over his forehead, catching the breeze.
He looked like a painting. Like some quiet dream I’d woken into.
I smiled to myself. Pulled the sheet around me and got out of bed.
He turned when I stepped out onto the balcony. His smile was lazy, soft.
“Morning, Troy.”
I slid into his arms, pressed my face to his bare chest.
“I can’t feel my legs,” I murmured.
He chuckled, kissing the top of my head. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
We stood there like that—wrapped in morning light and each other, coffee between us, the city waking up around us.
Whatever this was between us... it was real now.
“You know, I told you we’d be working quite closely together, right?” He eventually broke the silence, smirking.
I laughed softly, lifting my head to look up at him.
“I didn’t think this was what you meant,” I teased.
His eyes glinted with mischief. “What can I say? I don’t make empty promises.”
I smiled, leaning in to kiss him once more, soft and lingering. But I pulled away with a smirk.
“I guess we’ve got some work to do...”
Blake pulled me closer, chuckling as he held me tight. “And we’ll do it together, every step of the way.”
And just like that, the future was wide open, filled with possibilities.
Author's Note:
Thank you so much for reading my story. This marks the end of the 9-part series, and I’m truly grateful you’ve come along for the ride.
If you enjoyed following Troy and Blake's journey, consider supporting me by subscribing to my Patreon (StoriesByTroy) for early access, bonus scenes, and exclusive content. There's a lot more exclusive content on there.
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- Troy
