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Did he mean not here ever, or not here in the kitchen? “Then where? When?”
He hesitated again, and then he laced his fingers with mine and walked back towards the door that led to the rooms, flicking the light off as we passed through. Then we were outside my room, where Ben lay inside fast asleep, and I knew he was stopping so I could consider everything important to me—giving me a chance to change my mind.
Spoiler alert. I’m not changing my mind.
We carried on to his room, a couple of doors down, a mirror of mine but neater, his bed made, and the scent of his citrusy shower gel filled the space. As soon as he closed the door behind us, he pressed me back against it and kissed me as if his life depended on it. He gave me a potent mix of want and need, and the taste of him was intoxicating and made my legs feel like jelly. I gripped his hair again, ground myself in his hold, and every molecule inside me buzzed with anticipation and need. We stripped, but it was awkward because I didn’t want to let go. I knew I was acting like a madman—as if he was some phantom who would fade to nothing if I wasn’t touching him. Still, he didn’t make me stop, if anything the fire banked in his eyes became more intense, as each layer we wore was removed and then, at last, we were naked against each other.
Yes it might be proximity, and yes it was probably temporary insanity, but right now, it was everything.
I could love this man. I wanted to be with him to the point that we didn’t know a world without each other.
I was falling in love, one kiss and smile at a time, and it was all consuming and utterly breathtaking.
ChapterSixteen
Ethan
HavingJosh naked against me brought back so many memories, and even though it hadn’t been many days since that fateful night in the hotel, my traitorous cock told me it had been way too long. Madness consumed me, and any ideas of being sensible, or of thinking things through, fled, right along with our clothes.
Then I stood back and observed, taking a breath, because if we didn’t slow down I would lose it as if it were my first time.
“Please. No thinking,” Josh tugged at my arm and begged that I stay present as if he expected me to pull away.
“I’m not going anywhere. We need… condoms, lube. Bathroom cabinet.” I wasn’t sure how I was finding words, and I wasn’t managing full sentences. He stepped away from me with caution—reaching for me as if he expected me to leave—then he hurried into the bathroom, and I heard rummaging, then a cabinet door shutting, and he was back in at my side with what we needed in only a few seconds, stumble-tripping in his haste to get back to me. There was fear in him, alongside the lust, and when he tossed what we needed onto the bed I caught him, stopping him from moving with my hands on his shoulders. His eyes widened, but before he could blurt one word about me stopping or worrying, I pressed my lips to his and tried to gentle the urgency.
“I’m not going anywhere, this is happening,” I reassured him.
Josh leaned into me, nibbling, and kissing my neck. I pressed my fingers into the tightness of his shoulders until with a sigh, he relaxed in my hold.
“That feels good,” he murmured, and trailed kisses from my neck to my cheekbone, to my lips.
I slid my hands from his shoulders, as he laced his fingers behind my head, and I traced each muscle in his back with slow touches, and the sensual kisses grew lazy as if we had all the time in the world. This was nothing like the sex we had in the hotel room, and I wanted this time to be more than getting off. I wanted it to bereal.
I rested my hands on the swell of his ass, kneading the muscles there, and with every pass of my fingers, I slid them between his cheeks, until my fingers brushed his hole and then retreated. He whimpered into the kiss.
“Still okay?” I was asking for consent, and I wanted him to stop us if we were taking a step across some invisible line we shouldn’t be crossing.Could either of us stop now?
“Fuck, yes.”
I pulled him closer, his cock nestling next to mine, both of us so hard. I separated his cheeks, and this time I tapped on his hole and pushed the very tip of my finger so that he would feel where I was. He tried to push back, the instinct there to ride my finger, but I was looking after him—we needed lube, we needed to lie down. I wanted to take care of him, in all the ways I couldn’t in the hotel room. I eased him back, added a little shove so he fell back on the bed, and he sprawled, legs apart, already reaching for me. I climbed onto the bed, straddled him, caged him with my arms, and kissed him deeply. He groaned low in his throat, his hands once more twisting in my hair.
I reached for the lube and struggled one-handed with the cap, regretting the position as I had to balance. With the cap released I spread lube over my hand, warming it and catching his expression as I stared down at him. I pressed a finger inside, then another, as he pulled his knees up with his feet square on the bed.
“Harder,” he demanded, but I kissed the words straight out of his mouth and ignored him as he moved against me and rode my fingers. I couldn’t stay in that crouched position any longer, and I sat back on my heels, my fingers still inside him, his cock hard and swollen on his belly and his hands falling to his sides from where they’d been in my hair.
“You can touch yourself, get yourself off on my fingers,” I said, thinking that might be the hottest thing I could ever see, but he curled his fingers into fists, and left them at his sides.
“I can’t. I… I’m close… ” He wasn’t making any sense with words, pushing down on my fingers and we didn’t need words at all. I wanted to do everything—I wanted to taste, push, fuck, and selfishly I wanted it allnow.
“What do you need?” I whispered against his lips. “You want to come on my fingers like this?” I added more lube and twisted inside him.
He babbled something incoherent, his hands still, but every muscle in him was tense, the tip of his cock wet and the slick of pre-come glistened on his skin.
“Inside,” he begged, as I found his prostate, the one spot I’d been ignoring, and gently pressed my fingers to it. He closed his eyes, bared his neck, and cursed, “Now.”
“I need to take my fingers… ” was about all I could manage, wiping my fingers on my discarded T, and messing with the condom. Shit. Why did I not think this through? From here I had the best view, acres of warm skin, tight pink nipples, a dusting of hair leading to the darkness of curls, his beautiful cock, his balls—I wanted to suck them right at this moment, tease him for hours until he came without even touching his cock.
But none of that was as intense as the need to be inside.
