“And that’s me,” he says, soft but certain. Like it’s the truest thing he’s ever spoken. Like he’s proud of being that person for me, proud of me for knowing it.
I nod, throat tight with everything I’m not ready to say. “That’s you.”
I kiss him because not kissing him isn’t an option. Our mouths meet slowly at first—tender, tasting, breathing each other in. His hand tightens in my hair, tugging me just right, and I groan into his mouth, rolling us so I’m half on top. Skin slides against skin. His cock, already thick again, digs in against my hip. It feels so good.
I deepen the kiss, tongue curving against his, eating up his moans, enjoying all of his filthy noises. He arches hisback up with a low, needy whimper that lands straight in my groin. My hands coast down his sides, over the sharp cut of his hips, gripping the firm muscle of his ass to pull him harder against me. We’re both fully hard now, leaking, grinding, slow and filthy.
“Fuck, Cade,” he breathes against my lips when we break for air. “The way you’ve opened up to me, the way you’ve taken all of this so seriously now… ” He kisses me again. “Fuck, just… how you look at me now.”
“How do I look at you?” I question quietly, following the curve of his jaw with my mouth, sucking a fresh bruise into the side of his throat. I want it to be visible tomorrow.
And that’s the boldest thing I’ve ever wanted.
“Like I’m everything you didn’t know you were starving for.”
He’s right. I am starving. Years of numbness, of convincing myself I didn’t need this, that I wasn’t built for this—and now? I can’t get enough.
I kiss lower, tongue flicking over one nipple until it pebbles. I bite gently, then harder when he gasps and bucks. His hands fist the sheets as I work the other nipple with my fingers, rolling and pinching while my mouth leaves a trail of wet, open-mouthed kisses down his abs.
When I settle between his spread thighs, his cock stands thick and flushed, the head shiny with precum. I look up at him through my lashes, holding his gaze as I drag my tongue up the underside of his cock, his perfectly thick, deliciously long, all for me, cock.
I take my time, lapping at the slit, swirling my tonguearound the slick cap of his head, then sealing my lips around him and bobbing down until he nudges the back of my throat. I swallow around him, hollowing my cheeks, working him as best as I can, as much as I know how. His hand finds my hair again, not pushing or guiding but merely holding me, like even amidst me taking him he needs to touch me, feel me. I love it.
I bob faster, one hand stroking what my mouth can’t reach, the other slipping lower to tease his balls, then further back to circle his hole. I’ve never touched anyone there but myself. And I only have ever done it when my body can no longer hold back its biological needs. Still, I know that this is how we will give each other pleasure—one of the many ways, at least—and I want to experience it.
“Shit—yes, like that,” he groans, voice gutted and raw.
I pull off with a filthy pop, replacing my mouth with my fist while I grab the lube from the nightstand. I slick my fingers, watching his face as I press one finger inside him. Our eyes catch. “A little more,” he urges, and I work him open some more, groaning at the tight heat I’m exploring. I move in and pull out, and continue that cadence as his eyes flutter closed, his cock weeping in my free hand as I stroke him. After a few minutes, he opens one whiskey eye and aims it at me. “Now up and curl,” he guides softly, and I take his cue, and slide my finger back inside him, deep, curling at the softest, spongiest place.
Noah moans. “Fuck, oh god, I’ve missed this,” he breathes, sweat forming along his upper lip, and along hiscollarbone. “Have you ever played with your prostate?” he asks, bypassing the question about letting Rhiannon play with it becauseobviously not.
I shake my head. “No. I… touch myself there sometimes when I masturbate but… no.”
He moans, liking that response, then promises to be my first. “I’ll make you feel so good, Cade. You’ll be begging for it. Trust me, oh fuck,” he groans as I slip a second finger in, curling them both when I’m deep inside. That makes his back bow off the bed and a broken moan tear from his throat, but I don’t stop playing with his ass, making him feel good.
I add a third, fucking him with them while I suck him back into my mouth. Noah’s thighs tremble around my shoulders. He’s panting, cursing my name, hips rocking between my mouth and fingers like he can’t decide which feels better, his cock in my throat or my fingers in his ass.
I need more of him, more of everything.
I pull my fingers free and crawl back up his body, kissing him deep and messy so he can taste my desire, taste my starvation, my thirst. “I want so much more,” I rasp against his lips. “But I don’t… I’m not sure if I’m ready.”
Noah nods frantically, legs wrapping around my waist. “Can I tell you about it? Tell you and touch you?”
I nod, my mind stretched between amazement and notetaking. With his legs holding me tight, he drops his forehead to mine, and lowers his voice. “I start kind of like this, you know, if I know it’s heading that way.” He licksinto my mouth, his breath hot, my skin prickling with desire. “I like to cuddle, get close, do a lot of kissing.”
He kisses me more now, wet and hot, his tongue swirling around mine, coaxing moans and groans from me that I’ve never heard. My cock presses into his belly while his legs continue to keep us pressed together tight. There’s no free air to breathe, it’s all heat from Noah’s body, and Noah’s mouth, and all of Noah’s promises of the future. Because he’s telling me how it goes, but we’re headed there, and it’s all teasing, erotic foreplay, and I can hardly stand it.
“Keep going,” I bite out, stealing a breath as his mouth moves down my throat, kissing his favorite freckle of mine.
“Foreplay isn’t a checklist—it’s a conversation with the body,” he whispers before tracing the curve of my ear with his tongue. Fuck that feels good. I nudge my glasses up, and he groans wildly. “Fuck, you and those slutty little glasses drive me wild, Cade.”
I can’t hear this right now. I’m so hard, anticipating so much, my entire world is opening up in ways I can hardly fathom. I don’t want this to end before he reaches the proverbial finish line. “Keep–keep going,” I pant, temporarily thinking of Kat’s wedding, the beach, the smell of the shore—anything to keep me from coming. “Foreplay,” I breathe, “tell me about the foreplay.”
The last word nearly splinters into meaningless syllables when Noah reaches down and finds my cock, hard and weeping, and wraps his capable fist around it. “Noah,Noah, Noah,” I breathe out, fishing a hand between us to press against his pec, to fight back, to warn him that I’m not strong enough for the full Noah Ryan treatment. “Slow. Touch–go slow.”
He nods, eyes fixed on his hand as he slows his pumps, using his thumb to circle my head each time he reaches the top. A bead of precum wells up but he smears it down my cock, making everything slick and shiny. It feels so good.
“I want to touch you, I just… I can’t. Not yet,” I tell him, but when confusion dances in his amber eyes, I force myself to tell him exactly why. “I’ll—you turn me on so much. I don’t want things to end before they’ve even started,” I breathe, my chest rising and falling so quickly it’s like I’m on a run.
