He’s already hard.
“Tell me what you want me to do,” I say, moving my thumb teasingly over the firm bulge between his legs. I could leave it at this—the light stuff, the whisper of pleasure as it builds to the point of torture, but never going over the edge. Or we could rip all our clothes off, and I could take him hard and fast, right here and now, until he’s begging with my name between his teeth. But I need to know how far he’s willing to go.
Luke whimpers, his head falling back, eyes closing. “Kiss me.”
I obey. I’ll always obey whatever command he gives me. His lips move across mine with a desperation that fuels the fire in my lungs, a clash of tongues and teeth, the honeyed taste of liquor on his breath. He nips at my lower lip, his hands clawing at my back until I see stars. The restraint I believed I could have had flies out the window as he turns up the heat.
He hikes my cashmere sweater over my head, his fingers mapping every inch of my bare skin, tracing the firm lines of my chest, the warmth of his touch unraveling me. I try to unhook the metal clasps on the front of his corset with one hand, but itproves too challenging to do without looking at it. He chuckles at my struggle, and we break apart long enough for him to deftly butsensuallyremove one clasp at a time, his eyes locked on mine. The popping sound of each clip lands like a hammer to my already racing pulse.
“You need to wear this more often.” I smile, my hand moving to his newly exposed stomach like a gift meant just for me. I slip my fingers under the mesh shirt beneath, teasing them over the little sparrows I adore. I feel how his muscles clench with the tender caress. Then Luke smiles, the sun's radiance reflecting on me in full force.
“Your favorite part about my clothes is when you get to take them off,” he teases.
I grin. “Touché.”
I hike the fabric up until it’s over his head, and his chest is bare beneath me, revealing the newer cherry blossom tattoo on his left pec that sweeps up over his shoulder and down his bicep to conceal the scarring leftover from his injuries. My eyes are inevitably drawn to the intricate detail of the delicate flowers, and I lean down to kiss the sacred markings like it’s ritual—like an offering of worship, and Luke’s body is the temple.
I cover the rest of his torso with reverent kisses, moving down the length of him, until I reach his pants, the offending fabric in my way. I hook my thumb in the waistline, unbuttoning them and pulling them off, his cock springing free—this is how I find out he wasn’t wearing any underwear beneath that sinful outfit, and the thought of it has me ravenous.
Crouched down at the foot of the bed, I can’t help but take a moment to admire the beauty of the naked man before me, my eyes sweeping over every inch of his delectable form. His chest rises and falls with need, his eyes on me with a hunger he’s desperate for me to satiate. I stand up to fully disrobe, and while he watches me slowly unbutton my jeans, I put on a show thathooks his attention. I can feel his anticipation, his eagerness. It’s my favorite thing in the world to see how enraptured he is by me as I free myself from the constraint of my clothing. He’s unable to remain stationary for long.
Luke sits up and scooches to the edge of the bed, coming closer to me. Putting his hands on my chest, he drags his long fingers down, down, down, just as mine tangle in his silky, golden hair. He whimpers when I grab a fistful just tight enough to give him the sensation he desires on the edge of pain without actually hurting him—that’s been a fun discovery, too. I’ve learned to read his moods like an open book… When he needs it soft or wants it rough.
He moves in to press kisses along my stomach, his hands moving along my sides, down my thighs. The sensation fills my gut with heat, and my eyes flutter closed as it takes over, dominating my senses. When he suddenly takes his tongue along my hard cock, it sends a shiver down my spine, and a gasp escapes my lips.
Before I know it, his lips are wrapped around me, his tongue moving in debilitating circles. With my fingers still firmly rooted in Luke’s hair, I can feel every pull of his mouth along my shaft more acutely until I’m nearly weak from the motion. But Luke doesn’t want me finishing here.
Pulling off me, he grabs my hand and scooches back, giving me room to kneel in front of him on the bed. He leans over to the nightstand to work some lube onto his fingers and then comes back and slicks me up. He doesn’t need long to make himself ready before seating himself on my lap, taking me in fully with his body pressed against mine.
Our moans harmonize as the sensation travels through me to him and back again. I hold my arms around his more delicate frame, tracing my fingers up and down the length of his spine, inhaling the subtle scent of spring I’ve come to know by heart.It envelopes me, reaches in through my nose, and wraps itself around my lungs like a vine. I’d gladly drown in the smell of him if it meant I could keep it forever.
Luke takes control at first, setting the pace, moving his body against mine as he takes exactly what he wants. His face and chest are flushed, his eyes closed in rapturous bliss, and I can’t help but put my lips to his skin. He moans my name, sending a lightning bolt across my skin. It fills me with ravenous energy, knowing that I’m the one giving him this pleasure.
As I watch him, my eyes mapping every detail, making a permanent etching in my memory of this moment, there’s only one thought in my brain.I’m going to marry this man.It consumes me, driving me further into a frenzy as the pleasure in my core builds, nearly toppling me over the edge in ecstasy.
My need takes over with a primal energy, and I toss Luke back against the bed, changing positions. He looks at me with eager, wild eyes, his pupils blown wide with desire. He welcomes me as I crash my lips against his, my tongue pushing its way into his mouth. He bites my lower lip, then rakes his fingers along my back, pulling me as close to him as possible.
“Ethan,” he moans against my lips, his arms tightening around my neck. He’s losing restraint, nearing the edge.
I put my teeth to his ear, moving a hand down to stroke his swollen length between us. Luke cries out, begging me to keep going—don’t stop,don’t stop—his body riding the pleasure he feels with me inside him, hitting all the right spots. And when he finally comes, the release is so intense that it takes control of him, and he clings to me, holding me in his final throes. It’s enough to throw me over the edge with him, my orgasm ripping through me just as violently, just as blindingly intense.
After I slowly regain brain function, I can feel him shaking beneath me with the aftershocks of pleasure. I’m shaking, too. My arms are too weak to lift me, but Luke doesn’t seem to mindhaving the full weight of me on his chest, even though he’s a breathless mess. His heart is racing to the point that I can feel it in his pulse where my nose is buried in the crook of his neck.
Eventually, he’s capable of lifting a hand to my hair, and he turns his face to mine. He kisses me gently, pressing our foreheads together.
“Wow,” is all he says, that devastating little half-smile creeping up his lips. That tantalizing, delectable smile.
I kiss him again, throwing all my heart and soul behind the motion. No words could ever fully convey the depth of love I have for this man, but I know he feels it in moments like these. He holds me just as tightly to him—like he never wants to let me go. Despite the recent exertion leaving us both limp and weak, with a kiss like this, I could easily go another round in a matter of minutes.
Instead, I pull away, watching his face morph through euphoria to contented bliss. He opens his eyes and looks at me with such reverence that my heart feels ready to burst.
It hits me then, the words coming to my mouth so smoothly, you’d have thought I planned this from the start—a call back to one of our recurring inside jokes from the beginning of our relationship. It couldn’t be more perfect. Surprisingly, there are no nerves to be found as I realize what I’m about to do.
“What’s your name, baby?” I tease, my hand tracing his face, my fingers brushing up through the thick strands of his golden hair.
Luke’s answering smile is sinful, but he responds like he always does with the silly quip. “Whatever you want it to be.”
“How about Carlson-Shaw?”
