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“You’ll have to take my word for it,” he says, noting my skeptical glance. “But we have this chemistry… I haven’t felt like this in a long time, and the fact that you’re a man—it does fuck with my head a little.”
“You know I get that, though, right?”
“Then how are you dealing with it?”
I shrug a shoulder. “I guess I figure what goes on in my bedroom is my business. If I want to know what it’s like to be with a man—with you—then I’ll just go with it.”
“And you know for sure you want to be with me—have sex with me.”
“I’m positive,” I say, wondering if there’s something more I could tell him to make it clearer.
He rubs a hand over his mouth and then lets it fall to rest on his chest. Over his heart. He takes a deep breath that it looks like he works hard for. “Okay,” he says.
“Okay…what?”
“You can fuck me.”
23
DREW
I’m surprised, too. I blame it on the kiss. It was hands down the most erotic kiss I’ve ever experienced. He dominated my mouth. Olivier’s lips and tongue were demanding, bossy even. Controlling. And so unbelievably greedy, there was a minute when I thought I might pass out from losing all my blood to my cock.
My erection’s barely flagged during this whole awkward, miserable conversation because every time I speak, I feel him in my mouth, wanting more, penetrating me repeatedly, and it was a total mindfuck.
If I’d thought his humping my hip was the horniest thing that had ever happened to me, that kiss surpassed it by a mile. What ultimately pulled me out of it was I felt myself caving to it, melting and wanting to lie down so I wouldn’t pass out, and then let him keep doing it.
I would have come.
Being wanted is its own kind of drug, but being wanted like that?
Shit. And don’t get me wrong, I want him too—badly, so much, like I said, but I’m still more confused than I want to be, and my uncertainty is paralyzing.
I thought—when and if we ever got around to it, I’d be the one in control. I’d be the one fucking him, sticking my cock in his ass. I don’t know why. Maybe because I’m older. I’m bigger. I’m the one who forced myself on him in the first place. I’m the one who does the choking.
But the last thing I want right now—tonight—is control. Not if it means I have to think about one more goddamned thing. Add one more worry to my plate.
But I am worried. I don’t think I’m going to like this.
I don’t think I want a man’s dick in my ass—not even Olivier’s, but I do want something.I want to figure out what this is between us that burns so hot it blots out my vision. But for me, for tonight, I’ll be with him in whatever way he’ll have me. That’s what I need. I’m past caring whether I’ll like it or not. If he’ll take me, I’ll give him anything.
The only thing I know for sure I want—the one thing I can’t stop wanting—is to slide that sweater over his head, watch his curls fall wildly around his face, and have him look at me with that heavy, heady, profoundly stirring gaze he gives me when he’s turned on.
That’s it. As for the rest, he can take what he wants, as long as I get to feel his skin on mine. Feel his desire for me.
It’s vanity, really. A bandage over the gaping gash that’s disfigured me since being in a town that deemed me not good enough.
So, if all I am is a warm place for Olivier to stick his cock, well then, I guess I’m good enough for something.
Maybe that’s actually all I’m good for. All I have to do is lie down and bear it.
I remove my unbuttoned shirt and drop it on the floor before I cross the room to get to him. He scans my inked arms, my pecs, my face, and then I’ve got my hands on the hem of his sweater, and I’m working it up his sides. “This is the sexiest thing you’ve ever worn.”
“Really?” he asks, playing nice now that he’s getting his way.
“Insanely fucking hot,” I affirm.
“I went back and forth about it a lot.”
