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Fuck me, what am I doing??
I need to stop this.
But before I can, Jesse’s ass shifts, his back arching as he bumps his butt into my crotch. The curve drags the length of my erection, and I whimper, biting my lip to quiet myself.
He’s… moving. Writhing into me, slowly. So slowly, it’s like a sensual dance.
I’m crumbling where I lie in a bed of stifling heat.
“Jess…” I breathe, my voice barely existent. Nothing but a hoarse rumble of vibration from my chest into his back. “Are you awake?”
He nestles deeper into the bed, further into my front. And he nods.
Fuck.
I don’t know what to do. I can barely move.
I should be leaping out of this bed and running as far away from what’s happening as possible. But my body won’t react to what my brain is telling me to do.
It’s acting on its own.
He urges his hips back into me again, my cock weeping in my pants as he grinds on me in leisurely strokes, quivering as he goes. My shaky fingers grip his hip, as if to stop him. But I end up cupping the side of his ass, squeezing and caressing, greedy for more of this delicious friction; this forbidden sensation that’s weighting my chest and melting me to him.
I can’t stop touching. I can’t stop… wanting more.
More more more.
My lips ease up to the nape of his neck, and he quakes, an audibly sharp hiss of breath escaping him.
Resting my forehead on his shoulder, I mumble, “This is so wrong… You’re practically my—”
“But I’m not,” he finally speaks, his smooth, raspy voice gracing my ears like a sweet melody. “I’m just a man you’ve known since he was a boy.” My breath flutters on his flesh, and he hums. “But I’m not a boy anymore, James. I’m a man. A man who wants… more.”
More.
My fingertips trace the waistband of his boxers. “I’ve never been interested in men…”
“Why not?” His ass rubs my erection again.
I chomp down on my lower lip.
Good question.
