He rests his head on my pillow and closes his eyes. “Hang on. I’ll think about something boring. Like the certification requirements for goalie-mask impact testing. They use a specialized pneumatic cannon to fire pucks at three different velocities while measuring microscopic deformation patterns across seven distinct facial impact zones…”
I watch his handsome face and his squeezed-shut eyes, and something shifts inside my chest. Something dangerous. And I find myself kissing him softly on the jaw as he takes a deep breath.
The problem is that I like Becker James. It’s not just that he was smoking hot on the ice tonight, and that naked, he’s a work of art. All his nervous chatter ought to be annoying, but it isn’t. It’s real and it’s raw. It’s…great.
Fuck. A guy who’s hot and earnest. That’s my kryptonite. If I’m not careful, I’ll get carried away and do something I’ll regret later. Like invite him to stay over and then make him breakfast.
But nope. I can’t lose focus. Tonight’s tryst isn’t meant to be cuddly. This is about sex and showing Beck a good time. I can do that. Starting now.
I open my bedside table and grab the lube and the condoms. “This still good idea?”
“A great idea. The best idea.” He rubs his hand reverently down my biceps. “I just want you to destroy me.”
That’s a clear mandate. And, fuck, I admire this about Beck. Sure, he talks a lot, but it’s a feature not a bug. He’s honest as the day is long, and I need that in my life right now.
He watches as I open the lube and coat my fingers. “You ever play with yourself like this?” I ask as I dip my hand to his ass.
Lifting his hips for me, he nods. “Think about you when I’m doing it, too.”
“Fuck.” My dick throbs in response. “You’re going to get it so good.” I run a slicked finger over his hole, and he parts his legs, relaxing for me.
“Do it,” he pants. And then he groans when I penetrate him.
“Breathe,” I remind him as I slowly open him up.
“Yes…sir.”
“You trying to kill me?” I rasp, thrusting my finger in deep. “Sure you haven’t done this before?”
“Not unless toys count. If they do, I’m a total slut.”
I re-lube my fingers and tease him some more. When I nudge his spot, he moans my name. Yeah, even if I’m a little rusty, I’m good at this.
I lean down and taste the salty tip of his cock, and he bucks. “Dude.”
“I know,” I say, backing off. “Waiting is hard.”
“So hard,” he agrees. “Hurry up. I can take more.”
“But I’m having too much fun,” I tease, lubing up again and giving him another finger.
He grits his teeth a moment and then relaxes again. “More.”
“So impatient.” We both are, though. So I stick to the plan and work him open until he’s sweaty and begging, and my balls ache.
“God, look at you, hungry for it.” I reach for the condoms. “I’m gonna give it to you now.”
He lifts his hips, and when I line myself up against his hole, he bucks against me, so eager. “Yes, yes, yes,” he chants. “Now, Forest.”
I’d never want to hurt him, so I’d planned to go slow. But that’s not okay with Beck. As soon as I breech him, he growls and bears down on my cock. And I’m the one who’s left open-mouthed and struggling to adjust to the glove-like fit of our bodies, and the sudden, erotic embrace of him.
“Fuck,” I gasp. “Fuck.”
“Yeah, we are,” he agrees. “Finally. I’ve been thinking about this so much I could probably write a dissertation. ‘An Analysis of Why Forest’s Flannel Shirts Make Me Lose My Mind: A Study in Poor Life Choices.’”
I’m too turned on to process much of that. I’ve turned into a lower-order organism, the kind with only a couple of functions—breathing and thrusting. Although I try to take it slow, because I need this to last.
Beck grabs his knees, spreading them to give me space. He’s so fucking flexible that I sink easily down onto his ripped body, moaning when he does an ab curl so he can lift his head to kiss me hotly.
