I woke up sticky.
My underwear clung to me, the fabric damp and crusted in places; a clear reminder of everything Calvin had done to me last night. Everything he’d made me do. I hadn’t even gotten up to clean. Just collapsed after he turned away, aching and half-hard and buzzing with whatever the hell that had been.
A message from Calvin lit up the screen, timestamped half an hour ago.
Mase-boy
you slept in late
stop dreaming about me
meet me at the country club.
I blinked at it, wiped my face, and groaned.
Of course he was fine. Of course he was chipper and smug and calling me that dumb fucking nickname like he hadn’t spent last night with one massive hand wrapped around my cock and then feeding me my own cum like he owned me.
Those few seconds I’d sucked on his fingers, I couldn’t stop thinking about how it’d feel to suck him instead. How heavy he’d be on my tongue. How deep he’d make me take it.
And then he just rolled over. Told me to sleep. Like I was a problem he could bench until morning.
I pulled myself out of bed and got dressed. Went with the olive henley; it fit snug across my chest and hid the fact that I still hadn’t fully recovered from whatever the hell last night was. I slipped on some jeans, ran a hand through my hair, and headed out.
------------------------------------
The country club was exactly what you’d expect... trimmed hedges, old money, early morning sun catching on the dew like some over-designed postcard.
I hopped into a golf cart and drove across the wide green lawn, towards the faint noise of laughter and straight boy competitiveness. The groomsmen were already out there, scattered in loose pairs, smacking golf balls and making jokes too loud for this kind of setting.
And then I saw him.
From a distance, Calvin looked like every rich man I used to resent; that tight navy polo clinging to his chest, tucked just enough to hint at the cut of his waist. His forearms flexed as he swung the club lazily, like he didn’t even have to try. Like he’d been born into this. One foot forward. A practiced turn. Smile like a smirk.
I should’ve hated him. But all I could think about was his voice last night, low at my ear.
"You’re so wet"
I gripped the steering wheel tighter and drove toward them. I parked the golf cart beside a huge tree and stepped out, trying to act normal as I walked towards the boys.
“Monroe’s finally here,” Ralph called out, mid-swing, missing the ball entirely.
Jake laughed like he’d been waiting for that moment. “Told you he’d show up hungover.”
Miguel grinned at me from where he was lining up his shot. “Hungover or just trying to avoid cause you suck at playing golf?”
“Neither,” I muttered, grabbing a club like I knew what I was doing.
It didn’t really matter. None of us were here to golf seriously; it was just a groom’s-day-out formality. Guys half-heartedly swinging, sipping spiked Arnold Palmers out of Yeti cups, making dumb bets about who’d land closest to the pin. It was Calvin’s idea. Of course it was.
He didn’t say much at first. Just a nod when I got close, a smirk tugging at his lip. We played through two holes... enough time for him to show off, for Ralph to somehow lose a ball into a bush, and for Jake to give up entirely and stretch out on the grass like a drunk model.
Calvin pulled out his phone, faked a frown, then looked up like he’d just remembered something urgent. “Shit..wedding planner just texted. Some issue with the seating chart. We’ve gotta call her.”
He glanced at me. “Need your help, Masey-boy.”
Before I could say anything, he added, loud enough for the others to hear,
“We’re gonna find a quiet spot. No reception out here.”
None of the guys cared. Jake was still sprawled on the grass like he was sunbathing. Ralph and Miguel were mid-swing, laughing about something that didn’t require my input. They barely looked up.
So I followed him. Down the slope, past the edge of the green, toward the golfcart I’d parked earlier under a huge tree. It was shaded, out of sight, a little pocket of silence in the middle of all this groomed perfection. I stopped by the tree and leaned back against it, arms crossing in front of me. The bark pressed into my shoulder blades. Calvin stood in front of me, close enough that I could see the sharp contrast between his navy polo and his tan skin, the light catching on the curve of his jaw.
I shifted my weight, eyes narrowing. “Alright. What’s she saying? The wedding planner?”
He pulled his phone out like he was checking something, then immediately locked it again without looking. “She’s not saying anything,” he said casually. “Made it up.”
My head tilted. “Seriously?”
He shrugged, smiling a little. “Wanted to get you alone" Calvin stepped in closer. His right hand lifted and planted on the tree beside my head, the thick tattooed forearm bracketing me in. I could smell him; sun, sweat, whatever expensive cologne he used so sparingly it just blended into him.
“Last night,” he said, voice low now, meant just for me, “you liked suck-ing on my fingers, didn’t you, boy?”
My breath caught.
His left hand came up slow, deliberate, and the pad of his thumb pressed gently against my mouth. My lips parted automatically. No thought involved. Just heat.
“There you go,” he murmured, watching my mouth. “Suck it.”
I did. Let my tongue swirl around the pad of his thumb, let my lips seal around it like it was something else entirely. My eyes stayed locked on his, and in my head, it wasn’t his thumb anymore. It was his cock. Thick. Heavy. Slipping past my lips as I moaned and sucked like I had something to prove.
Calvin tilted his head slightly, his smirk sharpening.
“You wish that was my dick, didn’t you?” he said, voice low and filthy. “You want it in your mouth so bad, you're making do with my thumb.”
I stared up at him, lips wet, jaw open, breathing hard. Didn’t say a word. That’s when he grabbed my face; one hand rough on my jaw, thumb still wet and shoved his mouth onto mine. He kissed like he owned me. Tongue deep from the start, lips crashing into mine, teeth dragging. My head hit bark. I moaned. He didn’t slow down.
He pressed in harder, his body grinding against mine, thigh between my legs, thick and solid. I clutched at his shirt, dizzy from how fast it happened. How fucking filthy it was.
He pulled back just a little, lips wet, breathing hard.
I leaned in without thinking, chasing the kiss, desperate for more. My hips shifted against him, needy. His fingers slid across my bottom lip, slow and taunting. “Look at you boy,” he murmured. “So fucking desperate to taste me.”
I sucked in a breath, eyes fluttering shut as his thumb pressed back into my mouth. I took it greedily, lips closing around it, tongue swirling like it was the only thing I needed.
He smirked, watching me. “Didn’t get enough last night, huh?”
I moaned around his thumb.
“Yeah,” he said, pushing it deeper. “That’s what I thought.”
Calvin's phone buzzed. He ignored it at first; kept watching me suck his thumb, breath shallow then finally pulled it out, thumbed the screen. “Jake,” he muttered.
He showed me the text.
where the fuck are you guys?
we took the second golfcart.
heading back to the estate.
We both looked up. The cart was already halfway down the hill, the guys hooting, tossing cans in the back, totally unaware.
Calvin slipped the phone into his pocket and turned back to me, slow and deliberate.
His eyes dragged over my mouth. “Now that we’re alone,” he said, voice rough, “you gonna show me what that pretty mouth does?”
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