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While his hands aren’t on my neck, this man has me in a chokehold. To say I was surprised to see him again tonight would be an understatement. I was floored that after that awkward as fuck disaster of a double date he’d want anything to do with me again, so the fact that he’s repeatedly letting me suck his lower lip is beyond my wildest expectations for how this day would end.
He’s hot and sweaty. Slight trembles, like he’s feverish or something, run through him. For someone as big and strong as he is—as perfectly made and honed to such a polished finish—he’s acting like a wounded animal that I stumbled upon in the freezing cold. I don’t think he’s ready for what I want yet, but it’s okay.
I’m just glad he’s here. “You’re not fucking anything up.” Though I don’t want to, I put some space between our faces. “What do you want? Sleep? Another drink? Wanna watch a movie and for me to shut the fuck up?”
His hand wraps around the arm I’m about to lower. “I want this.”
“You’re not ready.”
“I’m ready,” he argues with one of those growly sounds that goes straight to my balls.
I guess I don’t know what to do from here. It’s not like we’re friends. We’re not lovers, either. I’m not about to usher him over to the bed and ask him to “talk about it,” and as much as it might take the edge off, I’m not getting down on my knees for him either, because if nothing else, I feel like we’ve moved past that. Kissing makes the most sense, but if he can’t kiss me back, and I’m unwilling to kick him out, then what? What do I do?
“You want me to do all the work?” I ask.
“I’m sorry, I just realized you had been. It felt good. I liked it. I think I just sort of—froze.”
Oh. “Are you sure you liked it?”
He nods, his hand on my arm going from bracing to gentle, running up my arm over the fabric of my sweater. All his unsolicited touches feel so good.
More of that. Please.
“Why’d you freeze?” I ask.
“I don’t know.”
“Are you freaking out?”
“No.”
Fearing I may talk this kiss I want so badly to death before I even get to have it, I try a different approach, leaning back in, but this time, letting my mouth meet his neck.
At first contact, he sighs a long, shaky breath, and his head lists to the side to give me room. I press open-mouthed kisses from his shoulder, closer to his throat, and up to his ear. Slowly, hungrily, I give him my very best. I lift my other hand to caress his stubbled cheek, and my blood hums when he turns to lightly brush his lips over my palm. I nip at his strong jawline, and his response is to wrap an arm around my waist and pull my body against his.
The hard outline of him brushes the tip of mine, and I shudder, moan.
“Olivier,” he breathes, and something bursts inside me at the sound of my name on his lips. The way he says it—like the most beautiful line of poetry ever written. Reverent.
His chin nudges my nose, and I pull back to find him staring at me—looking deep now—maybe too deep. “I want you…” I whisper.
“So much,” he says, finishing my sentence. And that’s when our mouths meet in the middle.
My lips part, and his part with them, slanting to suck and tug, and for a few seconds, that’s enough. It’s a taste of softer than expected flesh and a scrape of stubble on my chin. It’s our noses rubbing together the way our cocks are. My hands slide into his hair to keep him with me.
“More,” I groan softly. “Give me more.”
His mouth opens wider, taking mine with it, and our tongues tentatively touch in flickering licks at first, and then, because my confidence is rising by the second, I seal my mouth to his and sink my tongue in deep.
He grunts, clutching me closer and following my lead, kissing me back with thick, wet glides and increasingly ravenous lips.
I’m light-headed and struck with a need so strong it feels lethal. Since we’re both complete shit at being with a man, I guess, and we’ve found something that’s working for both of us, the kiss builds with a burning intensity I’ve never experienced. I grind my crotch against his, and his grip on my waist moves to my ass, clenching one of my glutes in his powerful hand.
He was right—it is really good. I can’t think of much at the moment, but I’m pretty sure this kiss will take the top spot—The GOAT. Fuck.
I don’t know what I love about it most. The naked hunger of it, the paradox of tenderness and aggression that’s as confusing as it is addicting, or the sounds we’re making. Wild, man noises. Grunts and low rumbles and resonant groans. It’s so fucking hot. Jesus.
I want to start ripping off his clothes. I want his skin beneath my hands and to feel the flesh of his cock against mine. I want to run my hand through his crack and find his hole, feel it pucker and make some other noise come out of him. I want his hands all over me. His mouth, too. I want to clutch his head between my legs and arch my back until my cock is so far down his throat, he’s the one choking. I want to fuck him in every hole.
