True Art

Chapter Twelve

REMINGTON'S POV

Breakfast was a big affair. I may have gone overboard with the bacon, eggs, and a huge array of artisan breads from the local baker, but I was up early, unable to sleep after the previous night’s events. When Matthew had kissed me, I'd been so surprised I hadn't even known how to react. Why this beautiful young man would like an old man like me was unclear. He was so bright and full of life. Then, when he'd texted me, I'd nearly raced down the hall before even replying. How I managed to pull myself away from him I'd never know.

I'd gone back to my room and slid my hand down my pyjama bottoms, thinking of how good Matthew had felt underneath me, the firmness of his body, and the hard outline of his erection under the sheet. I'd imagined his mouth on me as I slid my hand up and down, working myself until I came, muffling his name into the duvet.

When I'd woken up, I'd showered, tiptoed through the house so as not to wake him, and then walked the short distance into the village to get some fresh bread. It was a beautiful morning, and as I sat down at the table, smiling, I looked up to see a sleepy-headed Matthew in the doorway.

"Good morning, Matt. Sleep well?"

"Mmm. I did, thanks. Did you?" He smirked at me.

“Yes." I looked away, avoiding the cheeky grin on his cute face. “Take a seat, and I'll get you some breakfast. Do you want some eggs?”

"No, I'm good, thanks. This bread looks great though."

"What would you like to do today? I was thinking we might just go for a stroll around the village and then later we could go down to the pier. There’s a nice restaurant there."

"That sounds great." Matthew took a mouthful of the crusty bread and a wisp of butter caught on his upper lip. I stood up and walked over to him, swiping the oily spread from his lip with my thumb.

His eyes bore into mine, and before I knew it, he'd wrapped his mouth around my thumb and sucked it in. His tongue swirled around and I groaned audibly, unable to hold it in.

"Matthew," I whispered, but I couldn't get any more words out. I pulled him up from his seat, banging the kitchen table, the dishes clattering as our mouths clashed together. He felt even better than the night before, and I knew I didn't want to stop this. I wanted him, and I was going to have him right here, right now.

I dragged him a little with me until he was pressed against the table, and suddenly, we were shoving butter dishes, teaspoons, and knives to the tiled floor as we cleared the space, and I leant him back onto the table.

It was a large oak slab table I'd bought in Spain and had shipped to Ireland about five years earlier. When I'd seen it, carved out of huge beams of wood, I knew it would be a beautiful addition to my home. What I hadn't ever imagined was having sex on that table with a man half my age.

Would it take both our weight? I was willing to find out. I pulled at his t-shirt, lifting it off him, and then stared at the dips and curves of his body.

"God, I want to lick every inch of you," I said, tracing my fingers down the centre of his stomach.

Matthew’s eyebrows shot up, and he grinned. "I'd like that. Go for it."

Then he reached up, pulling me onto him, and sealing our mouths together. The heat of his skin against me was incredible and an insatiable hunger took over. I pulled at his jeans, tugging at my own belt, and wishing I could get us both naked as fast as possible.

"Oh god," Matthew moaned, and I nearly came at the sound of his whimper as I shoved my hand down his boxers and grabbed his hard cock. I searched for his mouth, biting at his lip and wanting to somehow consume him.

"God, Matthew, you’re so fucking--"

His moan sent me over the edge, and I slid off him, standing at the table edge, grabbing his hips, and dragging him towards me. Immediately, he wrapped his legs around me as I ground against him.

"Naked, we need to be naked," I mumbled, and he giggled.

"Good idea."

I had shoved my trousers to my ankles, and my briefs were halfway past my ass cheeks, when the kitchen door swung open and Sean nearly toppled over.

"Oh, fuck! Shit! I.... Never mind." He turned on his heel and slammed the door behind him.

"Oh my god," Matthew groaned, his beautiful eyes wide in horror. “I'm so fucking mortified.”

I laughed and pulled up my trousers, our moment now ruined. Matthew pulled his clothes on and turned to me, embarrassment written all over his face.

"Don't worry about it. It's only Sean. And he's not important." I winked and pulled him tight against me, feeling his heart pounding against my chest and loving how he melted against my body.

I couldn't deny it any longer. I wanted to take care of this man. His age wasn’t enough to stop me. I wanted to give him everything, and all I wanted in return was his heart.