Maybe the rest of my life. Like the old saying went:You always remember your first.
I touched his neck, grabbing his attention and guided his mouth to mine. Slow, he’d said, and I let him set the pace.When his lips touched mine, the contact sent a bolt of electricity through me, energizing that part of my being that was ready to live.
The kiss was careful, chaste, and I opened for him, silently pleading for him to come in, because I needed him to lead the way. He accepted my invitation, his tongue swiping across my bottom lip. A rush of excitement shivered through me and I dug my fingers into his neck, demanding more, begging him to show me wonders.
“Slow,” he whispered against my mouth and pushed me down on the couch.
I grabbed onto him, fisting his hair, clawing at his back, feeling completely out of control and it was glorious. This was what I needed. Freedom. I needed to be wild and unconstrained. I was desperate to kiss and touch another man, to be myself, the way I’d been created.
He wrestled my hands from him and pushed them over my head. I tried to kiss him again and growled when he took his lips away. He smirked, his eyes hooding. Every time he came a little closer and I tried to claim the kiss, he backed away. It was frustrating and hot.
“What's wrong?” he purred.
“I want to kiss you already,” I growled.
“You will, when youslow down,” he said firmly. “Remember Christmas morning snow?”
I blew out a breath and forced myself to relax. He was right. If I rushed into this I was going to do something embarrassing, but I was so desperate for it I couldn’t contain my need.
He pecked my cheek, kissed my jaw, nipped at my neck, the sensation of his teeth scraping against my skin going right to my groin. He moved to kiss my lips and it was difficult, but Iwaited for him to close the distance. The moment his lips came in contact with mine, I moaned with relief.
“That’s better,” he whispered and kissed the corners of my mouth. “Just need to take the time to enjoy it and not rush to the conclusion.”
I nodded, and rasped, “Like playing an adagio.”
He took my lips again and I opened for him, his tongue connecting with mine. It was a bit different than I imagined, the soft and slippery wetness a new sensation. I followed his lead, responding to the motions, matching his own. His beard was as soft as I’d thought, like silk against my chin. I wanted to thrust my hand into it, stroke it but he had my wrists pinned. I realized at this moment I was a pogonophile and was totally okay with that. My whole body was lighting up, buzzing with need and anticipation.
He whispered a praise, dove a little deeper into my mouth, the scent of soap and gruff man making me dizzy. Then he did that frustrating thing again by taking his lips away when I tried to kiss him a little too aggressively. He grumbled a little laugh.
“If I let you go, are you going to be nice?” he purred.
“I’m always nice,” I countered.
“I don’t believe that one bit.”
“You like my bite,” I said.
Rolling his eyes, he huffed. “You’re not wrong.”
He released my wrists and I thrust my hand into his beard, tugging him gently back to my mouth. I swallowed his laughter, unable to get enough of him as if I were dying of thirst and he had what I needed.
My kisses were still clumsy, but I was learning and finding a common rhythm with him. I did manage to relax and savor the moment, enjoying the myriad of sensations kissing him brought. His body sunk into mine, like a puzzle piece.
He skimmed his hand down my body and cupped my cock through my pants. He swallowed my moan as the touch sent off all kinds of sensations through me.
The world started to fade, the unimportant bits getting fuzzy and out of focus until the only thing that existed was Sean and what he was doing for me. The sensations of his tongue slipping against mine and the smacking of our lips mingled with breathy gasps. Music, raw and simple, and timeless.
Unfortunately, it didn’t last long, and the shrill ring of his phone was like the shattering of glass.
“Oh you’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” he growled and glared at his phone vibrating on the coffee table.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
SEAN
I recounted the two times in my life when I’d been truly pissed off. Once, when I was eleven because my brother had purposely broken the toy Mom had bought me for my birthday because the spoiled dick hadn’t gotten one and she brushed it offas boys will be boys. Another, when a hook-up had robbed me of my rent money stashed in my wallet.
And now? When some idiot decided to overdose in the bathroom when he should have known better. I didn’t care if people wanted to do drugs, but they needed to do it in their own fucking house and not mine.
