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He gripped the front of my shirt and pulled me to him. “Stop talking, and do that again.”
Our bodies slid together, our mouths connecting in a deep, bruising kiss that felt like it lasted hours when clearly it was only minutes.
“Fucking hell, I’m so turned on,” Delaney said in between kisses, his hands rounding my hips to my ass. When he dug his fingers into my flesh, our stiff shafts aligned, making me shudder.
“Any more of that, and I’ll come in my pants,” I groaned, burying my face in his shoulder. Damn it. I wanted him so much right then, wished we had more than a few stolen minutes.
“Please.” It was a desperate sort of plea that resonated in my bones as he rubbed our groins together in a slow, hypnotic pattern.
My lips found his ear as my fingers slid to his waistline. “Let me make you feel good.”
He trembled as his eyes met mine. “Only if I can do the same.”
“Hell yes,” I replied, and then it became a mad rush of our fingers warring, clumsily unbuttoning the other’s pants, sliding down zippers, freeing our cocks from the tight confines of our jeans.
I reached for his red-tipped cock first, which poked from the top of his briefs. He was warm and thick in my hand as I stroked him from root to tip and watched him pant openly.
“Damn. I’ve been dying to see you, and I am not disappointed.” His stomach might not have been as flat as those of buff guys at the gym, but he was sexy as hell.
“Fuck.” His fingers connected with my nape, and he hauled me into a deep kiss. “I’m definitely not gonna last.”
“Neither will I, which is good because we don’t have much time.”
“Don’t remind me.” As soon as his long fingers curled around my shaft, I knew I was close. My cock felt overly sensitive to his touch, and besides, this was too much of a late-night fantasy come true.
“You feel so good.” His eyes were fixed on my shaft as his thumb circled my slit. Like no time at all had passed since he’d been with a man, and it was simply second nature.
For both of us, apparently. We frantically pumped each other’s cocks, our kisses reckless as we moaned in unison. My balls were throbbing, and I imploded after another twist of his wrist near the underside of my glans.
He groaned into my mouth, unraveling a moment later, our tongues tangling as his warm seed spurted over my fist. Our lips remained fused together long after he went soft in my hand, but it was hard to drag myself away.
We cleaned up in the third-floor half bath, his skin flushed the entire time.
I helped fix his hair, swiped at my swollen lips, then followed him toward the stairs, hoping that guilt wouldn’t find its way inside Delaney tonight.
But he kept his cool in front of Grant and even winked at me as he walked me to the door.
17
Delaney
Halloween fell during the week this year, and I told Marcus he didn’t have to show, especially after hearing how busy work had been lately. Grant would’ve understood even through his disappointment, and I’d be lying if I didn’t say I’d have been a little bummed too. Though it might’ve been for the best, since that intimate moment between us the other night was all I could think about. Thankfully, I’d gotten my wits about me afterward, and Grant didn’t seem to notice how distracted I was once Marcus left.
But Marcus was nothing if not dependable. He’d shown right after work, even insisting on picking up dinner on the way so we didn’t have to fuss with dishes. We chowed down on our burgers, taking into account the looming six o’clock hour. Kids from the neighborhood would be ringing the doorbell any minute, followed by droves more, and it wouldn’t let up for a couple of hours at least.
Marcus had gone above and beyond when it came to Grant’s costume as well. He’d made a call to one of his customers and was able to get his hands on a historically accurate knock-off crown and scepter, and paired with Grant’s red satin coat with the gold brocade, the ensemble made Grant look amazing.
When Grant came downstairs in his costume, I made a big deal about it, clapping and whistling, which produced a toothy grin—a different kind of smile than the one my corny jokes elicited. Marcus, for his part, had shown up in a King George Hamiltonesque graphic tee that read: I Will Send a Fully Armed Battalion to Remind You of My Love. Grant got such a kick out of it, he took a photo of the design and immediately texted it to his friends.
“Oh, and I bought you one too,” Marcus told me, conjuring a bag. “We’re all in this together, right?”
