Page 55 of The Allure of Ruins

“Many, but in the end, Armani was the one.”

“Still needed to be altered,” he reminded me. “My chest was too wide.”

“Yes,” I said with a sigh, pressing my face between his shoulder blades.

“It is, you said so,” he said sulkily.

“Yes, I did,” I agreed. “It’s because you’re so beautifully proportioned.”

“Now you’re being snide,” he snapped at me.

“Never,” I murmured, slipping my hand around his throat and turning his head so I could reach his lips.

I kissed him languorously, sliding my tongue between his lips, loving the feel of his tongue rubbing against mine.

He rolled over to face me, careful not to part our lips even with us bumping together, and when his hand closed on my hardening length, I moaned.

“That was a good noise,” he said, smiling against my lips.

“I put the lube in your nightstand.”

“Maybe I just put my mouth on you this time,” he whispered roughly.

“Or maybe I ride you like I want and you can come inside me.”

“Fuck,” he gasped, pulling away, then rolled over and tried to open the nightstand. The drawer stuck, as it always did, which I told him would happen before he decided to go ahead and buy the pair after all. Not only were they odd, eyesores amid the rest of his furniture with the classic lines, but also poorly designed.

“Stop,” I said, smiling as I climbed over him, still careful of his stitches. I lifted the drawer slightly while sliding it out.

“You were right. They’re ugly, and the drawers aren’t seated right.”

“But the color matches,” I said, because that had been his reasoning at the time. “Doesn’t it?”

“We’ll get new ones, and you can give these to whoever it is at work who collects mid-century furniture.”

“It’s Natalie, and she’ll be thrilled,” I said, gently pushing on his shoulder so he was flat on his back. “Or I can take them to my place. I don’t have nightstands.”

When I looked at him, he was scowling.

“What?”

“What my ass,” he growled. “I have all your stuff here, where it belongs. You’re not going anywhere, and we both know you don’t want to.”

“No, I don’t,” I acknowledged, throwing back the covers before I climbed over him, straddling his hips. “I want to stay here with you.”

“Then it’s settled, and let’s not talk about it any…more,” he said, his voice going out on him as I flicked open the lube and poured some into my hand.

“I won’t always need this much, but this is the first time in a long time, and I don’t want to wait to have you stretch me and get me ready.”

“I know what to do,” he said, his breath catching as I fisted his length and stroked him, slathering his cock. “There’s rimming, and I can use my fingers and⁠—”

“Have you done all that?” I asked, lifting up and notching the wide head against my opening. Watching him, seeing the flush again on his face, on his throat, kept me present and grounded, focused on him and nothing else.

“I thought I should know about sex with men if I ever got the chance to⁠—”

“Did you watch porn for me?” I teased him, pressing down a bit, the pain immediate and sharp.

“I read,” he corrected me, taking hold of my shaft, stroking me with one hand, the other sliding around the side of my neck to ease me down into a kiss.