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Ezra laughs, and his firms up a little bit, too.
“This is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” I confess.
“Hard same.”
We both laugh at that. I pull off my shirt and clean us up as he leans his head back on the couch and closes his eyes.
When I’m finished wiping our jizz up, I trace a hand over his six-pack.
“Perfect angel,” I whisper.
“You.” He grips my hip with his damp hand, moving backward to the curve of my ass. “Fuck.” He grits his teeth, looking like he’s in pain.
“You okay?”
Ezra laughs, dragging his eyes open. “This is fucking nuts. When I’m with you, I come like—”
“Like what?” I whisper, grinning.
“It’s like a drug. Like my dick’s fucking pumped on something. Even now” —he reaches down to palm himself— “I bet I could get off again. Like, five minutes.”
He runs his hand over my abs just above my cock.
“I want to suck you again,” he says. “All the time.” He sounds so enthusiastic, even as he looks fucking exhausted. It makes me laugh.
“I’m surprised to hear this,” I say, smiling into his eyes.
“I know,” Ezra whisper-moans. His eyes shut. “Cause I’m a liar.” He looks up at me again, not speaking for a moment. “You’re the only one I could have done this for. With,” he murmurs.
He puts his arm around my shoulders, pulling me down on him. He wraps his leg over mine and locks an arm around my lower back.
“Dude, just looking at you makes me wanna come.” He kisses my hair. “Even how you fucking smell. It gets into me.” His words are soft moans. “I knew…”
“What did you know, angel?”
“I knew when I let you touch me. If I tasted you—”
He sounds breathless as his hand goes in between us. “Look.” I look down. He’s clutching a full-on boner. “I could go again,” he whispers.
“Feel me,” I laugh.
I got wood again a second ago, when his lips tickled my hair.
“Jesus. Let’s go upstairs. I’ve got another idea, but I think we need a bed.”
Up in my room, Ezra shows me side-lying sixty-nine. When he’s sucking my dick, he pushes a finger into me, and it’s mind-bendingly amazing. We come at almost the same time, both swallowing, and I feel weak and dizzy and incredible when I lift my head.
“How ya feel?” he whispers, looking tired but sleepy.
“Amazing,” I manage. “You?”
“Too good,” he murmurs.
I shift so we’re facing one another. So I can look into his eyes and push his hair back off his forehead.
“There’s no such thing as too good, Ezra.” On a whim, I wrap an arm around him, pulling him up against my chest.
“Only with you,” he whispers, with a heavy-lidded smile. He looks happy. He looks sated. He looks like mine—for just the smallest moment.
Then his body gives a little twitch, and he’s asleep.
Thirteen
Ezra
“Hey…” Something soft plays in my hair. “We have to go soon.”
DG.
“Already got a shower, tried to let you sleep,” he murmurs.
Oh shit! The hospital! I grab his hand, bring his palm to my mouth, brush my lips against it.
Then I let his hand go, make myself sit up. Shit, I’m sore—like I’ve been in the same position for the whole damn weekend.
“Did I sleep all night?” I frown around his room, as if it knows the answers.
“Just about,” Mills says. “You stirred a time or two, but no real waking up.”
“Damn. I don’t remember waking up.” Is that possible?
“That’s good,” he says softly.
I allow myself to look up at Mills. Blue eyes under a mop of wavy, dark brown hair…freckles on his cheeks…those soft lips that I like to lick and nip. My dick twitches, which makes me laugh—an awkward, husky sound.
Is this shit real?
Mills drops down beside me, wraps an arm around my shoulders, pulls my face against his shoulder. Warm Miller. I wait for him to say something, or do something, but he doesn’t. He’s just holding me against him. Letting me wake up.
“You smell good,” I whisper.
“It’s just soap.” I hear him smiling.
I kiss his throat. He kisses my lips—a little brush of his mouth on mine. I kiss him back and deepen it, because I love the way his tongue feels. Kissing him is so much better than I ever knew it would be.
He pulls away to smile at me and whisper, “You’re an amazing kisser.”
I feel my ears burn. “You are.” I get up fast, before this goes too far. “Be back.”
I shower quick and throw on black jeans and an old Johnny Cash T-shirt with some black chucks. My hair is still damp when I walk into his room, finding him lying on his back on the little brown love seat beside his dresser.
He sits up when he sees me, giving me a small smile.
“Ready, Millsy?”
He gives me a funny little narrowed-eyed look, like he’s jokingly objecting to the nickname.
