Page 31 of Back Outside Edge

But Evan—something is different about Evan. Something that makes me terrified to make the wrong move. Terrified I'm making everything up, even as he's sitting here in front of me. Even when his body is so close to my hard cock his heat radiates to it.

I can't answer him in words. There are no more words. Instead, I lean forward. It's still not quite enough for our mouths to touch. I leave him that last inch. Just in case. Just in case I'm completely out of touch and all of this is in my head. His thumbs are stroking my cheeks, but he's not moving that last inch. Fuck Evan, what do you want? Just take me.

But he doesn't. He just keeps staring into my eyes as if he has all the time in the world. He's tracing my cheekbones now, and it's making me frantic. All right, fine. If that isn't consent, I don't know what is. If I'm getting this wrong somehow—I'm not getting this wrong somehow. He hasn't pulled back. Even if he hasn't moved forward.

So I reach out my own hands. Grabbing him by the back of his head and pulling him into me. It's a more aggressive move than I meant for it to be, but fuck, he's killing me.

And then his lips touch mine and everything crystallizes. The world's not just frozen, it's locked in place. The air is too heavy to consider moving away. That's fine, because I have no desire to do so. I'm the crystal, a conduit for energy. It's pouring through me from his lips. Around and around, swirling through me until it lands in my groin and—and we've barely kissed, but I'm hard put not to come on the spot.

Evan groans, and the sound rockets through me. I pull his head higher, harder into mine. Attacking his mouth with my own. Is this what lust feels like? Because if so, I've been doing it wrong all along.

When his tongue touches the seam of my lip, I open for him. He invades my mouth, and it's different. It's so different than anything I've felt before. He's firm and sure and hard, where I’m used to softness. Passivity. Now he's committed, he's not at all tentative about his movements. A scrape burns across my chin, and I realize it's his beard stubble. That's new too. But I don't mind it.

In fact, I think I like it. It adds even more sensation to the kiss. That hint of pain makes the pleasure all that much sweeter.

So I lean in, kissing him back harder. Encouraging that rough exchange of stubble. Another groan from Evan, and our tongues are dueling. Both of us fighting for control over the kiss now. It might be the most erotic thing I've ever felt in my life.

Somehow, through all of it, his hands are still gentle on my cheeks. The touch feather light as his tongue invades my mouth. How can he be this restrained right now? I'm not. Nothing in me is remotely restrained. I've let myself off my leash. An attacking dog.

One of my hands is fisted in his hair, and I leave it there, allowing the other one to trail down his back. Pulling him in closer. Pushing myself to my knees as he does the same, until our chests are pressing against each other. And, oh, it feels good. It feels perfect. The hard planes of his body against the hard planes of mine. How did I never know this was what I needed? How have I lived twenty-two years of my life thinking I wanted women when I could have been having Evan?

He presses harder into me, pushing me back, and I let go of his hair, giving him the space to move. Then I'm folding down onto the floor, and Evan's on top of me. And this is even more perfect. The gentle touch has finally roughened.

He's the one holding my hair. Pulling my head to the side, kissing down my neck in hot, heavy movements of lips and tongue and teeth. His other hand runs down my chest, finding the bottom of my shirt, sliding back up underneath it. Warm hand against hot skin. It feels like heaven.

I buck up into him and his hard length presses against my own too full erection. More, I need more.

Evan chuckles, deep in the back of his throat, and I realize I've said it out loud. His laughter hums over my skin, forcing a gasp out of me. “Greedy, are we?”

I try to laugh back at him, but can't manage more than a huff. “Yes. Please.” I don't know why I'm begging, why I'm not just taking. I've never begged before. What does Evan bring out in me? And why do I like it so much?

His hand tightens in my hair, and he pulls my head further over. And then his stubble is scraping back up my neck, his teeth nibbling at my throat. And I never, ever want it to stop. He bites a little harder, wrenching a groan out of me. Forcing me to buck up against him again. This time he lets me have more of the friction. Pressing back down on me until I can rub against him. My vision goes white with absolute bliss.

He's going to kill me. If he keeps this up, I'm going to die of suffocation. Or a heart attack. Or simple, straightforward need. Can someone die of need? I don't know, but I'm about to find out. “Evan.” The word is another groan, followed by a sharp breath as he bites my earlobe, hard. Hard enough to make my vision white out again. “Please.” What am I begging for? No idea, but I need it. Desperately. More than I've ever needed anything.

He growls something, but I'm incapable of making out the words. My brain stopped working a long time ago. His fingers find my nipple, and he tweaks it and bites down again at the same time. Neither is gentle, but it's not quite painful. What it is, is hot as fuck. And impossibly, humiliatingly, it's enough to send me over the edge, my body crashing into his. Come spurting into my briefs in hot release.

Evan slows his movements, his breath panting in my ear. "There's my boy."

My boy, what does that even mean? I don't care for more than the time it takes to ask myself. I'm too blissed out to be worried about anything right now. “Holy shit, Evan.” It should be awkward. It probably will be soon. I just came in my pants from a kiss. Maybe the bite? What is it about Evan that turns me into an adolescent boy? But right now, the way he feels against me, sounds, what I can read from his expression, leave no room for embarrassment. It's kind, sweet. Proud, even. Of himself? Or of me for letting myself go?

Maybe both.

Instead of pulling my hair, his hand is soothing now. Stroking my hair away from my sweaty face. The other one is still inside my shirt, but it's lying still over my chest. A light pressure above my heart. “Well, that was unexpected.” I can tell he's trying to keep his voice light, but the hint of an edge colors it. Some sort of pressure he's keeping inside.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have come so—"

“No, not that.” The lightness seems more genuine, humor taking over, if the smile playing on his mouth is any indication. “You were perfect. The fact it happened in the first place.”

Was it unexpected? Really? I can't be the only one who's been feeling sparks for days. Unless—maybe I was. Maybe I am. Maybe he was just being nice, kissing me. Letting me kiss him, in reality. And then I came, out of nowhere, without doing anything at all for him.

He can't have gotten any satisfaction out of that. Fuck. I'm a bad lay.

I manage to move my own hand, stroking down Evan's back. “Here, let me...” I'm not sure what I want him to let me do. Give him a hand job. Blow him. I'm not sure I'm ready to blow him. Are we even still in the right mood for either of those things?

He squirms away just as my hand reaches his ass and starts to wrap around. “No.” He's smiling at me, something like fondness, I hope, in his eyes. “You don't have to do anything. Watching you unravel was the most incredible thing I've ever seen.” He pauses. Then he grins. “Well, second most maybe. That quint may have beat it.”

I do my best to arrange my face into a glare. “I fell on the quint. It can't have been that spectacular.” We're back on familiar ground. And I'm more than a little appreciative of it. Thank you, Evan.