It tickles me to see how he just helps himself. Just like he took action with little direction when he first joined my team. He rarely asks, he just does. He’s not timid or shy, just cocky and sure.
Another check mark in my book.
“Just finding some wine glasses for us,” he confirms, and then wiggles his ass at me, followed by a groan. “God, it’s been a while since I’ve worn one of these. Every move has me close to blowing.”
I can’t say I know the feeling, but the imagery in the words shoots through me like a gunshot. He’s so incredibly open and unapologetic about his sexuality. Not hiding any of his needs or desires.
I cross my arms over my chest, openly admiring his lean body as he reaches up, finding the wine glasses in the top shelf. His shirt follows his movements and I’m blessed with a glimpse of his tapered waist and the smooth flesh underneath his t-shirt. Normally, when I’m with a woman, I play it safe. I don’t rush into things but take my time getting to know them, wooing them.
With Eli, I can bypass all that slow wooing stage. He wants it and I want it. No playing games required. The need to get my hands on him overtakes me and I move behind him in one step, clutching at his hips and slipping my palm up the back of his shirt where I find his skin to be warm and soft.
Eli radiates warmth. His personality. His smile. His heart.
He gives a small whimper as I lean in, kissing at the back of his neck, smelling his clean-fresh scent, dragging my nose across the sensitive skin at his hairline. I have no doubt he can feel just how turned on I am right now, considering my hard-on is pressed into the crease of his ass.
The whimper turns into full on moans, from both of us, as I sample and taste and make my way to his mouth. He graciously allows me access by turning his head to meet me halfway, our mouths fusing in a hard kiss. Our tongues immediately find one another, his intoxicating taste blooming with the heat of him.
Eli’s arm winds around my neck, toying with the shaved edge of my hairline, scraping my scalp with his fingernails, making it sting. But I love it. I love the roughness and strength his fingers possess.
Eli gyrates his hips, grinding into my cock as I release a growl against his mouth.
“Do you really need wine right now? Or can I convince you to go straight to the fucking?”
My persuasion tactics may be crude, but he doesn’t seem to object as I slide my hand down his back, over his denim-clad ass and press my thumb to the spot where the plug is securely hidden. It elicits a deep, masculine howl from deep within his chest.
“Doc, you don’t play fair.”
“I’m not playing.”
Eli whips around in my arms, removing his shirt in one swift motion and throws it on the floor. I’ve had to step back to give him some room and I admire his flawless, toned chest and abs. Mr. Cocky-Ass notices my interest and leans back into the counter, placing his hands at the edges of the granite, allowing me a moment to drink him in. There’s a barbed wire tattoo around his left bicep and some Sanskrit down his right side just underneath his armpit.
When my gaze finally returns to his face, he’s smirking and his dimples wiggle at his cheeks.
“No games...” he says, canting his head in my direction. “But I think it’s your turn next.”
