Page 47 of Right Up His Alley

It makes me want to fight even harder for the alley. To make sure it gets chosen without question or complication. I can’t be the reason it gets denied. Not after everything Ezra has done to drag it back to life, to make people care about it again. The paint, the permits, the lights. Everything. There’s already enough working against him without me and my stupid desire to kiss him being what ruins it all.

But that conflict can all go away if I just find the courage to not compete. I keep telling myself I don’t want to anymore, but why is it so hard to give it up? Am I lying to myself?

With that ambivalence, I keep my hands at my sides and make sure there is a space between us, even though every instinct I have is screaming to get closer to him.

I’ve never wanted to protect someone so badly.

Even from myself.

But he’s still right there. He’s staring at me now, like he wants me too. He’s close enough I can feel the pull of him like we’re magnets.

My arms ache; they’re restless, like the only thing that would make them feel alive is to reach for him, caress his entire body, and kiss every inch⁠—

No.

I clench my hands into fists, stopping every urge to rip off my clothes. I have to.

“Truett,” he whispers before pushing the pillow to the floor, standing with his plate of food and edging the empty space between us. He looks at my plate lying freely across my lap. “Your food is getting cold.”

I spin the chair around and place my plate down on his desk. Not a second after I do, I hear a similar clink behind me. I spin back around to face Ezra, his plate on the table beside him. His eyes are hungry but slightly resigned, like he knows what we both want can’t happen. The only thing he’s biting on is his bottom lip.

And that’s it. Everything in me breaks. I’ll deal with the fallout later. I’ll fix it, or I’ll at least try as hard as I can.

I stand from the chair but don’t move forward just yet. My fingers stretch against my jeans, restless. I swallow eagerly, while my heartbeat drums throughout my chest. The space between us feels explosive, like it could ignite at any second. I could pretend our hesitation means nothing, but at this point, I refuse to think he invited me to his bedroom for any reason but to ravage me.

I exhale, slow and measured. “Are we going to be those people who won’t be able to keep our hands off each other?”

His voice is pulsing and deliberate, like a gentle tease to pull me closer. “As long as it’s not in the alley, I guess we’ll have to see what happens.”

And that’s all the permission I need before I lunge for Ezra, my hands gripping the sides of his face as our mouths collide. It’s like he was holding back, but suddenly a string was cut, letting us off our leashes. His lips part automatically, and the kiss is full of heat. The taste of him is rich and intoxicating, like cinnamon and something sweeter beneath it. I feel myself press against the seam of my pants. Quickly. Forcibly.

I want more.

I need more.

I push him back, tugging at his shirt, then I yank it over his head before tossing it aside. His eyes go wide before his pupils dilate with desire. My palms caress his chest, tracing the velvety touch of his bare skin, feeling the intense rise and fall of his breath. Like a touch-deprived man, I shove him onto the bed, a smirk twitching at the corner of my lips as he lets out a surprised laugh. His tittering barely has time to settle before I rip my own shirt off and drop it to the floor.

Ezra’s eyes drink me in. I’ve been desired before, but never the way he’s looking at me. It’s like I’m the only man in the world who matters.

My cheeks redden as I climb on top, my fingers finding his skin again, teasing, exploring. He gasps when I pinch his nipples, and they harden at my touch. His moans hardly fade before his teeth find and yank at my ear, sending a multitude of shivers throughout my body. God, he knows what I like before I even have to tell him. My hands move lower, fingers picking at the button of his jeans. My cock throbs in my pants, and I wonder if his is too.

This hunger inside of me—in us—can’t be tamed with just a simple kiss. No, we need everything.

“Let me help you with that,” he whispers in the same ear, now raw and tingling with pleasure. His voice has taken on a husky quality, sending shivers down my spine. Ezra unsnaps the button and lifts up the bottom half of his body, pulling his jeans down to his knees.

“Do the rest.” His order goes straight to my cock, my balls tightening at his command.

I eagerly comply, locking my fingers within two belt loops and shredding the fabric off the rest of his legs. Next are his boxers, which do little to hide his own erection. From what I can see, Ezra’s big. I greedily yank at the waistband, needing to see every damn inch of him.

Just as suspected, there are a lot of inches to adore. His cock is long, slightly curved at the tip. His mushroom crown is an angry red color, just begging to be sucked. I’ve seen nice dicks before, but not like this. Everything about this man feels new and better than anything before.

Part of me wants to take my time and savor him, drawing out moan after moan. I do plan on doing that eventually, but I’m too impatient, too greedy right now, so I grab his erection and wrap my needy lips around it. A moan rips from his mouth as my hand grips the bottom of his shaft, slowly moving up and down, working up the ability to swallow him whole.

“Fuck, True.” His voice takes on a needy quality I haven’t heard from him before. He reaches down, running a hand through my hair. Soon he grips it and pulls hard. A flash of pain erupts, followed by the pleasure of being pushed down on his cock as he works his hips up.

Saliva coats every thick inch of his cock. The taste of his pre-cum, the knocking at the back of my throat drive me to take it deeper.

Harder.