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His cheek grazes across my jawline, so I loosen my hold, realizing that he’s drawing back. It had to end sometime.
“Is kissing off the table?” he murmurs, staring at my mouth the way he stared at my cock the other night.
He wants another part of me? I don’t recall that being on his list. My sexuality aside, I’m starting to think that maybe I do have more experience than him if he’s asking for kisses.
“You’ve never been kissed?”
Rubbing the fabric of my shirt between his thumb and forefinger, he lowers his gaze. “Not by anyone who I wanted to kiss me.”
Kissing has always been a particular thingfor me. I want to thank him for ordering the same meal that I did as I stare at his mouth, considering it. He’ll taste the same way that I taste. There won’t be a jarring flavor intruding on the act. And we’ll be connected. Even more connected.
I have something incredibly fragile in my arms. An artist that was forced to earn a degree he didn’t want to pursue. A potential graphic designer who was forced to take a job he didn’t really want to take. A gay man who felt obligated to kiss women he didn’t want to kiss. I can’t change his history, but I can change his future.
“Wasn’t the whole point of this to start doing what you want?”
My challenge is a desperate plea for him to be brave for the both of us. Wetting his lips, he nods, showing me a glimmer of that quiet audacity in him that sets a flame to my blood. His hands cup my jaw on either side.
‘Do it,’ Unleashed Pete demands. ‘Do it, Cameron.’ I don’t even try to silence Unleashed Pete.
He closes his eyes, but I can’t. I need to see everything. I want to see that it’s real. His lips connect with mine and press chastely. They’re soft and warm, unlike every idea I ever had about men consisting of hard lines and rough edges. He holds them there, just holds them, seemingly oblivious to the eruption of tiny fireworks bursting all throughout my body. How is this chaste kiss more arousing than any other sexual encounter I’ve had?
When he finally draws back, the loss is equivalent to losing an appendage. Eyes still closed; he looks like he’s in a deep sleep. There’s a painful bubble inside my chest threatening to burst for it being over, but then he smiles and whispers, “That was…perfect.”
It was. It was barely a kiss, but it redefined anything I thought I knew about kisses. I can’t take his beautiful innocence any longer. It’s wormed its way into my veins and activated a switch that has me primed to teach him every lesson possible. I cover his mouth with mine, delivering every other kind of kiss to go along with that perfect one. If he’s going to discover them, he should damn well discover them from me.
Cupping the back of his neck, I hold his head in place, swallowing whimpers, answering them with feral grunts. His tangy dinner flavor mingles with mine as I taste the soft tongue that weighed my cock three days ago. I swirl mine around it and suck on it, thanking it for what a good job it did.
His arms wrap around my neck. If I thought he was melded to me before, we’re practically one body now. Chasing him like I can’t get enough; we pivot until his back hits my refrigerator, and I press my hips to his. That giant cock of his is stabbing through his jeans and into mine. It’s ache against ache. We both groan, and I dig my fingers into his hips to keep from manhandling him.
“Was that perfect, too?” I pant, shamelessly letting all my weight lean against his groin as I nip at his lower lip.
I want to know every thought inside his head. I want them all to be about me, and I’m not baffled enough about where those wants came from to stop. There’s no capping this unexplainable greed he stirs in me.
His fingers weave up the back of my head into my hair, and he nods. “Yes.”
Shifting his hips forward, he drops his head back against the fridge with a thump and moans. It exposes the soft, pale flesh of his throat. I go to it, helpless to resist, and capture his Adam’s apple in my mouth. My lips create a sloppy, suctioning noise that should bother me, but the whimper he produces is too great a reward to let anything bother me.
“Pete,” he begs for nothing in particular, other than more of me.
Do I have more to give? So far, this dance we’ve done has given nothing but pleasure to the both of us. It’s not a game I’ve ever played with this pairing of equipment before, but it seems we’ve made no errors yet.
I’ve been granted full access to his wish list. The surge that gives me forces me to step back and look at my gift. Something doesn’t seem right, seeing him plastered against my fridge like a biology specimen. I don’t know how long he’ll let me travel in this uncharted world of exploration with him, but a sense of obligation has me worrying that this example will make him think he has to pay for his dinner with other men in their kitchen.
“Go to my room,” I pant, waiting on pins and needles to see if that intoxicating obedience he displayed on Friday reappears.
Eyes widening from their droopy state, his parted mouth closes, and he straightens up. If I’ve ruined this unexpected moment of passion, I’ll never forgive myself. Have I shocked him? Have I found his limits?
Turning, he scrambles past me like his ass is on fire. When he gets to the hallway entrance, he rounds the corner toward my room without hesitation.
I’m on his heels in a heartbeat, shadowing his footsteps in heavy, urgent steps. The doorway to my room is a portal, pulling us in.
He listened. He listened, and he’s practically running into the unknown because of me. I have to force my breath to slow, or I’ll fucking tackle him at this rate. Why has he given me this kind of power?
Stopping by the end of my bed, he turns around and waits. The fucking sight that makes—Cameron Fairway waiting for me to tell him what to do. We’re in our own little world where I’m in charge and my seal of authority is all over his wet lips, swollen from my kisses. Stalking over, I stop just in front of him.
“Give me your mouth,” I whisper.
It’s a test. Another challenge I want to see if he’ll answer.
