Page 43 of Split You Open

Staring down at Santi, something stronger than desire expands in my chest. It chokes off my ability to breathe and leaves me weak in the knees.

My natural inclination is to tamp it down—pushing the feeling far away so that it can't drown me. I almost do that now. My jaw clenches tight and I want to look away from Santi's intense gaze. I stop myself at the last minute.

I'm not running anymore.

Not from the emotions that feel like too much, or from the man who inspires them.

I force myself to take a deep breath to settle the rising panic. As I take a second one, I allow the feelings to crash over me. I accept the vulnerability that comes with giving myself to Santiago.

If he's not scared of this—of us—then I'm not either.

"You okay?" He asks me, no doubt witnessing the uncertainty on my face before I could rein it in.

I grin, and I find the motion easy.

"I'm better than okay, Santi."

I reach down and yank off my shirt. As I unbutton my pants, Santi's eyes drink me in. The hunger and need on his face feeds the warm feeling in my chest. This time as it expands, I don't balk. This is what I’ve been dying to feel in Santi's presence since I left him on the side of the road in the middle of the night. The rightness of us.

As I chuck off my pants, Santi reaches down to remove his. I stop him, knocking his hands away so that I can do it myself.

"Everyday," I growl as I pull his grey sweats off. His dick springs free, already weeping with precum. "Every fucking day, I thought about you."

I toss his pants aside, and kneel with one knee on the bed to reach for his shirt next. My hands skim up his golden body as I push his shirt up. Unable to resist, I lean down and plant a kiss just above his belly button. I place another above that and another right above the last. I trail kisses up his stomach as I push his shirt up. He lifts his arms to help me remove it altogether.

"Rhett, I need you," Santi pleas softly. "Please don't tease me now. I've been so scared that I would lose you and Blair. I just need⁠—"

"I know," I cut him off before pressing a light kiss to his lips. "I need you, too."

My hand finds his weeping cock. I start to stroke him as I go back to kissing him. Knowing Santi, this won't take long. And honestly, it won't be long for me either. I groan into his mouth as the warm feeling inside of me grows in strength.

I let it overwhelm me until I'm feral. With a low snarl, I bite Santi's lip again before pulling away to bite him all over his body. His neck, his shoulders, chest and stomach. I latch onto Santi like I'm a fucking vampire marking his next victim. My grip on Santi's cock grows harder, my stroking fervent. As I bite my way down his body, Santi groans, the sound hungry and impatient. His hands find my hair, and he grabs handfuls of it, forcing my head lower.

I chuckle darkly as I get to the thin line of hair that starts beneath his belly button and leads straight to his cock.

"Is my filthy whore ready for me?" I tease.

"Yes!"

"How ready?"

Santi whines his frustration. "So ready, Rhett. I haven't touched myself since you two left. I’m dying to cum for you."

This surprises me. Looking up the long muscular length of his body, I check his expression to see if he's messing with me. "Not at all?"

Santi lifts his head to meet my eyes. Slowly, he shakes his head. "Even if I could get it up, which I couldn't, it felt wrong. My body, my pleasure—it's all yours."

A hard groan rumbles through me as I'm thoroughly humbled and grateful for this man beneath me.

"You are..." I shake my head. "Incredible."

Santi opens his mouth to say more but whatever he wants to say turns into a harsh cry as I wrap my lips around his cock. One hand skims up his body but my other reaches down to fondle his balls.

My tongue swirls around the head of his dick before I take him back down into my throat. I start off slow and steady, forcing Santi to stay with me in this heated moment. I savor the salty tang of his precum, humming with approval as more surges up each time I lick it away. But the slow pace doesn’t last. I want to watch him fall apart. Quickening my pace, I choke and gag. The struggle to take him as far back as I can makes me so fucking hard. As I work him up Santi pants and howls, grunts and groans.

Damn it... he's so fucking precious.

And mine.