I hook my fingers in the sides of his panties, pulling them down just enough to free him. His cock springs up, flushed and leaking, the head glistening in the low light. I wrap my hand around the base, feeling the weight of him, the heat.
This is new territory for me—I’ve never done this with another man. But with Vincent, it doesn’t feel foreign or strange. It feels right. Natural. Like everything else about being with him.
I lower my head, giving the tip an experimental lick. The taste is unfamiliar but not unpleasant—salt and musk and something uniquely Vincent. His sharp inhale encourages me, and I take him deeper, wrapping my lips around the head.
“God,” he chokes out, one hand flying to my hair. “Alex, fuck.”
His reaction spurs me on. I take him deeper, trying to mimic what I’ve enjoyed when girls have done this to me. Theweight of him on my tongue, the stretch of my lips around his girth—it’s all new but exhilarating, because it’s Vincent. My stepbrother.
I find a rhythm, my hand working what I can’t fit in my mouth, my eyes fixed on his face to gauge his reactions.
Vincent watches me through half-closed eyes, his chest heaving with each labored breath. The red lace of the bralette stands out against his flushed skin, a beautiful contrast that makes my own neglected cock throb painfully against the confines of my jeans.
I lose myself in the task, in the sounds Vincent makes, in the way his thighs tremble beneath my free hand. Time blurs, stretching and compressing until there’s nothing but this—his taste on my tongue, his fingers in my hair, his voice breaking on my name.
When his breathing grows ragged, his grip on my hair tightening to the point of pain, I know he’s close. I redouble my efforts, wanting to push him over the edge, to watch him come apart because of me.
“Alex, wait,” Vincent gasps suddenly, tugging at my hair. “Stop, I’m going to—”
I pull back reluctantly, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand as I look up at him. “Isn’t that the point?”
Vincent shakes his head, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “Not like this,” he says, reaching for me. “I want—” He stops, color flooding his cheeks again.
“What?” I ask, crawling back up his body until we’re face to face. “Tell me what you want.”
His eyes meet mine. “I want you inside me,” he whispers. “Please.”
The words send all the blood in my body rushing south.I’ve thought about this—fuck, of course I have—but hearing him say it out loud, seeing the raw need in his eyes, is almost more than I can handle.
“Vincent,” I breathe, cradling his face in my hands. “Are you sure?”
His answer is to pull me down for a kiss, his body arching up to meet mine in a way that leaves no doubt about what he wants.
What we both want.
17
Vincent
ALEX’S QUESTION HANGS IN the air between us. The truth is embarrassing, vulnerable, but I can’t lie to him—not now, with his body pressed against mine. Not when we’ve already crossed so many lines that one more confession feels like nothing.
“Have you done this before?” he asks again. “Has anyone else been inside you?”
I shake my head, feeling heat creep up my neck to burn my cheeks. “No. I’ve been with men, but never… like that.”
Something flashes across Alex’s face—satisfaction mixed with jealousy. “How many?”
“Does it matter?” I counter, not wanting to get into a body count discussion while we’re both half-naked.
“Yes.” The single word comes out harsh. His fingers dig into my hip, possessive, bruising. “It matters to me.”
I sigh, shifting beneath him. “A few. Not many. Just… hookups.”
Alex’s expression darkens, his eyes stormy with something that looks dangerously close to rage. I shouldn’t find it hot, but,fuck, I do. The idea that he’s jealous, that he wants me all to himself—it sends a thrill straight through me.
“But never like this,” I add quickly, reaching up to touch his face. “I’ve never let anyone fuck me.”
The admission seems to soothe him. His grip on my hip loosens slightly, and his eyes clear, the storm passing as quickly as it came.
