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“You good, G?”
“Yeah.” I wiggled a bit, trying to find the right angle. “I’m not used to this position. I just need to…” I notched his tip against my hole and slowly sank down.
“Holy shit.” He stared up at me in wonder.
I moaned in response. Feeling his hot skin and knowing there weren’t any barriers between us made the entire experience intimate and special and so much more than just sex.
“That’s it.” He gripped my cock and stroked nice and slow. “Take your time.”
Either I was getting used to his monster dick, or I was more of a size queen than I thought. It was uncomfortable, and my body still instinctively fought the invasion, but the pain and fear were absent.
He hissed out a breath as I settled my ass on his thighs. “Fuck, you feel good.”
I breathed deeply and waited for my body to fully relax.
“You okay?” He rubbed my stomach with his free hand, his touch soothing and soft.
“Yeah. It feels good.” I gave a little test thrust.
“I don’t know what’s hotter. Your tight ass around my cock or being able to look up at you like this.” He let out a shuddering breath and sped up his strokes on my dick. “I’m not going to last long.”
“Yeah you are. You want those extra stars, don’t you?”
He huffed out a laugh. “It’s a personal challenge to get them now.”
“Then you’d better rock my world like you promised.” I shifted around, trying to find the perfect angle. I’d never been on top before, and it was incredible to be in control.
I leaned the slightest bit forward. A little zing of pleasure shot through me as his shaft rubbed my spot. “Oh shit. There. Right fucking there.”
“Fuck yourself on my cock, G. Make yourself feel good. Let me see it.” Caleb’s eyes blazed with lust as he stared up at me.
I’d always known I had a bit of a performance kink—it was kind of a prerequisite for becoming a stripper —but performing on stage and doing it for Caleb were two completely different experiences. Being on stage was a rush, and the validation from the crowd was satisfying in a way that wasn’t sexual.
Performing for Caleb went beyond a sexual experience. Seeing the appreciation in his eyes, watching him slowly lose control, was everything. Knowing I was able to reduce him to a panting, needy mess the way he did to me was unlike anything else.
The part that was fucking me up was howemotionalit was. When I was on stage, the cheers and tips validated that part of me that yearned for acceptance. Those performances fed my ego. I could pretend the audience wantedmeand not just the guy they saw dancing on stage.
I knew they didn’t. I was a fantasy. A guy who got lucky genetically and happened to have a talent for dancing. They didn’t wantme, the messed-up guy with a warehouse of baggage. The one who was currently headed nowhere in life. I wasn’t the guy they dreamed about bringing home or wanted to have long conversations with. They might have dirty thoughts about me, but I wasn’t who they wanted to hug and cuddle their problems away.
I was an escape. A way for them to have some fun and get away from reality for a bit. Ilovedbeing that person to them. It was part of stripping that didn’tfeellike a job. I danced, they tipped, we all had a good time.
I’d been happy in my delusion that I didn’t need more. That being alone was preferable to being vulnerable in front of someone, and the risk of being hurt if I did trust someone far outweighed any of the good parts of letting someone in.
But Caleb had destroyed my delusions as he’d slowly broken down my walls. Sex with him was fucking transcendent, but it was the little moments I treasured. The warm, affectionate smiles, his encouraging words and how he was always so mindful not to hurt me. He’d refused to let me mentally check out and had forced me to be present, engaged, to shut off my brain and just be in the moment. He’d also gone along with my rules without question yet still knew when to push.
In just a couple of months, he’d helped me unpack years of fear and mistrust. Had helped me move past it.
The night he’d come to me when he needed someone had been a turning point in whatever the hell was going on between us, but it hadn’t been the only one. The night he asked me to top him had been one of the hottest nights of my life, and one of the most emotional. I’d made love to him. For the first time in my life I’d let go and focused on someone else during sex. It hadn’t been about orgasms or getting off, it had been about connection and comfort.
I could have come back from all of that. It would have sucked, but I could have explained it away and put my walls back up. But he’d fucked it all up when he slept over and held me all night. That experience had been both incredibly fulfilling, and absolutely terrifying.
I’d spent so many years convincing myself that I didn’t need anyone. That physical touch and emotional intimacy were unnecessary and something other people wanted. And I’d done everything in my power to push him away, but he hadn’t let me.
I didn’t just want Caleb—I’d fallen hard for him. I wanted the cuddles and the random texts and the knowing smiles. I wanted to hold his hand and kiss him in public. To show the world he’d chosen me. To be his, the way I wanted him to be mine.
“God, G. You have no idea how good you feel.” He rubbed my abs.
I rolled my hips and clenched around him, pushing the mess of thoughts out of my head. Now wasn’t the time to get distracted by shit I couldn’t change. It was time to drive Caleb crazy and give him a taste of his own medicine.
