Page 73 of Read My Lips

My chest tightened and my throat knotted. Fuck. I was going to hyperventilate.

That hollow keenness with his name on panged inside me again, and I gritted my teeth against it. Why did he think he had to do this? We were just supposed to be having sex.

“Right.” I strained a tight grin. Why was he trying to pick me apart?

Dropping to my knees and begging to suck him off would shut him up. Stop all of this. But his eyes wouldn’t leave me alone and the words lodged at the back of my throat, and my knuckles wouldn’t curl into any shapes at all.

And—

Fuck him.

“So, do you have any condoms here, or what?”

Simon laughed. “Are you asking to fuck me?”

“Yeah.” I swallowed hard. “Alright.” This was it. My chance to show Simon I could be everything he wanted. “Or I could...” What was it Luke had asked? My head felt dizzy. “Rough you about a bit?”

Simon’s nose wrinkled sharply. “You want to beat me up?”

“No.” I wanted him to stop talking. “I mean. Only if you want. Sometimes guys expect that. Because I’m all...”

It wasn’t a proper sign I used. Puffing my cheeks and flexing my arms with fisted hands, like the Incredible Hulk.

The image hung in the air between us, bloated and wrong. My entire head filled with blood. If he so much as sniggered, I would burst all over his Instagram perfect walls like an angry boil.

“I’m not buying it,” he whispered, breath against my earlobe. Far too close. “Tell me what you really want.”

The world shuttled back and forth. His eyes stayed locked on mine – the only static point.

“You.” The smallest sign to make, but it felt weighty as I pointed towards him.

“How?” Simon’s voice rang clear between us.

Oh god. Of course he was all straightforward about it. Of course we were having this conversation. With actual words.

I couldn’t look away from him. Couldn’t take it back now. Couldn’t lie.

“Inside me.” The sign – the slip of my hand underneath my palm felt so literal. My gut twisted with anticipation.

“Good.”

Pulling me closer, he rutted in against the sharp cut of my hip and all the blood in my body stormed my cock with a stiff, hungry throb. His skin infused his body heat right into me, thawing me out when I hadn’t even realised I was cold. Unbearable, this was. With my cock jabbing in at his like we were into swordsmanship and there was about to be a duel.

Defensively, I plastered to his chest, pushing him closer to his bed, and his fingers dug in on an aching, muscle-deep grab to my arse.

On the bed, he butterflied a dry trail of kisses along the line of my lower ribs and I flopped onto his sheets, roiling under him with a stuttered gasp, hips pitching up, seeking him out.

Sucking me into his mouth, he swallowed me down. His stupid-clever tongue did something spectacular and I full-on died a thousand times over, balling his covers in my fist, gnawing through my lip trying not to shout. Never mind piano, he could play me all damn day.

The bastard pulled off with a wet smack, leaving me gasping, and he ducked his head, dusting his forehead against my chest for a stretched out moment when all he did was breathe. Under my hand, the rise and fall of him settled, and I palmed at the dense moss of his curls.

And then reached across me, scrabbling for supplies in his bedside table.

This was it.

Everything I wanted.

And I already wanted to do it again and again and again, without the awkward bit. Fuck it – I wanted to find out whether all his duvet covers had dark textured patterns across the surface of them for me to deface just like this one. And maybe after all those laundry days he wouldn’t think I was a total prat.