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“I’ve been thinking about that,” I say.
“Have you?”
I nod. “All the time.”
“What’s stopping you?”
“What’s stopping you?” I ask.
He half-grins. “Honestly? That I’ll love it.”
“It’s gonna be really good, isn’t it?” I ask, my dick getting hard from the smooth, repetitive stroke of his thumb, the smell of him, the way he said the word “tongue.”
“I think that’s a possibility.”
“Is this still weird for you?” I ask.
Olivier shakes his head. “You?”
“Maybe.”
“Still trying not to put too much thought into it?” he asks.
“What do you want me to say?” I hear the raw vulnerability in my voice. Feelings outweigh thoughts in my head by a factor of ten, and they’re overwhelming. I can’t pick out a single one and describe it. It’s not that I’m trying not to put any thought into what’s going on between us—it’s that I can’t.
“I want you to say fuck it—fuck everything, and then I want to kiss you.”
“Right now?” I ask.
“Right now, Drew.”
Something in me responds to his certainty. It quiets some of the noise in my head. Desire is still there, though—and the need is clawing.
“I want you,” I whisper.
“I know you do.”
“But I don’t know how to want you.”
“I think that’s something we can figure out,” he tells me.
I wet my lips with a subtle lick. His hand stills on my face and he shifts closer to me, our chests touching. His breath warms my chin. “Take it,” I say.
I don’t want him to ask. I don’t want him to hesitate. I want him to take my mouth the way I took his once. It’s not the same, I get that—what I did was terrible. I’m lucky he was high. I’m lucky he’s not some delicate flower who can’t withstand the blast of one of my landmines.
He’s strong, and he’s beautiful, and he wants me exactly as I come, at least for now.
He aligns his mouth with mine and takes a bite of my lower lip. I shiver at the feel of his sharp teeth sinking in, at the soft moan he lets out when his lips close around the bite, tugging me even closer to him. Fuck. How does he turn everything he does into a masterclass in eroticism?
He does it again and again, biting here and there, tugging and sucking while I stand frozen as the sensations he’s eliciting harden my cock and break me out in a full sweat. His hand slips from my cheek to cup the back of my head, his fingers sliding through my hair to get a grip as he licks a line across the seam of my closed lips.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
I’m better than okay, but before I ask him why he’s asking, I realize I’m doing absolutely nothing. I’m just standing here, like a fucking mannequin. Sweating and hard and breathing too fast. Like someone who’s never been kissed before. “I’m fucking this up, aren’t I?”
22
OLIVIER
