Page 50 of The Allure of Ruins

“Hey, can you open your eyes and look at me?”

It was the best thing ever. His eyes were deep, dark burnished gold, his pupils huge. “Can I kiss you? Will you let me kiss your lips?”

“Yes,” came the hoarse whisper. “Please.”

“Will you let me put your dick in my mouth?”

“Is that what you want?”

“Yes.”

The cry that came out of his chest was both heartbreaking and hot.

Surging forward, I took his mouth in a mauling kiss, grinding my lips down over his, tasting and licking, biting gently, before rolling him to his back. My tongue rubbed over his, tangled, coaxed, finally sucking until I got the whimper I was after. His hands on the sides of my neck held me still as I devoured him. Clearly, he didn’t want to be parted.

When I broke the kiss, there was a litany of pleading, the word no repeated over and over.

“Kiss me some more,” he said, panting.

I moved then, kissing my way down his chest, licking and nibbling each nipple, taking my time, loving the twinges of pleasure I was causing, and then moving lower, over those glorious abs, my hands mapping skin I never thought I would be allowed to touch. When I took the thickened length in my hand, my name came out garbled and low. He wanted me so badly, and I reveled in that feeling. Colton Gates, the best man I knew, wanted me. How amazing was that?

I had no idea what he thought it would be, but me, running my tongue from balls to head once, then again, before taking him down the back of my throat in one long, seamless glide was probably not what he had imagined.

“Holy fuck, Pax!”

He was loud, and I loved it. I wanted to howl with happiness because the power was mine to cause the roughened breathing, to see how hard he was holding on to the headboard, straining as I licked and laved, then sucked hard, remembering how good I was at this, how much I loved giving. My joy had been stripped from me, but not anymore, not ever again. This was Colton, and I wanted him desperately.

I had missed so much, made excuses for his need to constantly touch me, and for mine to do the same. We were always together, so much more than needed, finishing sentences, asking questions with a single glance, and more than anything, our lives utterly entwined. People saw us, remarked on the closeness, and still, we didn’t see. But now, in bed, there was no more hiding. I saw him plainly, and since he’d basically been walking around for the past five years, belonging to me, I would make my intentions known.

“I can’t—Pax! Honey, you have to—holy God.”

I smiled around his cock as he nearly roared the roof down, and then I concentrated on swallowing and keeping the suction fierce as he palmed the back of my head and made sure that my mouth would not be separated from his dick. He pushed hard against the back of my throat, and my name was beautiful as it tumbled from his lips.

When he was finally replete and happy, the aftershocks rolling through him, making him twitch and tremble, he lifted his head, and still panting, met my gaze. Suddenly he jolted so hard, his hand released me and his softening cock slipped from my mouth, a long string of saliva stretched between my bottom lip and the head.

“Ohmygod,” he rasped, “I was holding on to you and—” His eyes searched mine, wild and terrified. “Please don’t run from⁠—”

My grin must have short-circuited his brain. It had to have because of the look I was getting—all his emotions rolled up into one, confusion, hope, fear, remorse running across his face. He was still trying to catch his breath as well.

“Listen to me.”

“Pax, I⁠—”

“Are you listening?”

After a moment he answered, “Yes,” and his voice had a tremor in it.

“There was no part of that that I didn’t love.”

He was still staring at me.

“I loved you wanting me, I loved you coming apart, and I loved that you wanted my mouth on you so badly that you made sure I couldn’t fuckin’ move. That, what we did, me giving, you taking, that is what being in bed is supposed to be.”

“No.” He shook his head. “Being in bed is supposed to be equal, and you got noth⁠—”

“I got everything,” I said, crawling up his body, careful of the bandage covering the five stitches on his right side. “Does this hurt?” I asked, concerned. “I’m worried you might have⁠—”

“No,” he murmured, both hands lifting, reaching for me. “Please come here and kiss me.”