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“I’m sorry,” I said. “And more often than not, the degree to which someone works is not indicative of their pay grade. Half the CEOs of the world couldn’t do what their employees do. They wouldn’t last half a day doin’ manual labour, and it’s those workers who make the world turn.” I took another bite of pizza. “That’s why you find me with the cooks and ground staff at our docks. I’m more comfortable with them than I am at those fancy dinners my brother and sister go to. But if the bosses need to know what’s really going on or what needs to be done, or what’s not being done properly, or what issues the workers are havin’ at the ground level, they come to me.” I shook my head, unsure why I was telling him this. “Sorry. I just don’t want you to think I’m like them.”
His eyes met mine, kind and warm. “I don’t. And I like that you understand.” We ate some more pizza, and he took another mouthful of beer, almost drainin’ his bottle. “Now, this may be the beer talking, because I haven’t drunk alcohol in over a year, but about that offer to touch anything I want.”
I grinned at him, downed the rest of my beer, took his hand, and led him upstairs.
And we’d hinted and joked about which of us would top, but there was never any doubt. He pulled my shirt off and tossed it, his eyes dark, and he licked his lips. “Get on the bed.”
That look, those words, almost set my blood on fire.
I quickly complied, scooting into the middle, my head on the pillows. I pointed to the bedside table. “Top drawer.”
He found the condoms and lube, throwing them onto the bed beside me, then pulled off his shirt and knelt on the mattress, crawlin’ over to me. He planted himself between my legs and slid his hands up my thighs, over my hips to the waistband of my shorts. He smirked as he pulled them down, like this was the victory he’d wanted.
He leaned forward so he could kiss me, soft, open lips, and the hint of tongue. “I want to kiss you,” he murmured. Those blue eyes were like fucking fire. “Then I’m going to suck your cock and eat your arse before I fuck you.”
My body felt hot all over, my brain short circuited. I think I groaned. “Fuck.”
Who was this guy?
“When I said you gave me top vibes, I didn’t expect this.”
He sucked my bottom lip in between his. “Want me to take it easy on you?”
I grinned at him, trying to get his shorts off. “Hell no.”
He took my wrists in his hands and pinned them beside my head. “Can I ask you something?”
I was almost panting with need. “Yes.”
“Have you ever had a prostate orgasm?”
Jesus fucking Christ.
It took me a second to think, to breathe. “No,” I whispered.
He grinned. “You will tonight.”
I don’t know why I was so stunned. Thinkin’ back to what we’d done in the bunker, and the way he’d pulled my hair, how he’d held my face when he slid his cock into my throat, I should have known.
This quiet science nerd had a freaky side.
Hell fucking yes.
He kissed me then, tanglin’ his tongue with mine until I forgot my own name. He moulded me with his mouth, with his hands, the perfect combination of gentle and rough, and his body against mine until I was pliable and desperate.
Then he flipped me over, massaged my back, kissed up my spine, and bit my shoulder; an ebb and flow of pleasure and pain. He rid me of my shorts and splayed me open, delving his tongue inside me.
I gripped my bed covers and lifted my hips for him, and he worked me harder. First with his tongue, then with his fingers and lube, fingering me and stretching. Feeling...
Until he found his prize.
“Holy shit,” I gasped, coming up on all fours.
“Hm,” he purred. “There it is.”
With his fingers still inside me, he pushed my head back down with his other hand so my arse was in the air. And he pressed against my prostate again and again, sparking a pleasure inside me like nothin’ I’d ever felt before.
“God, right there, don’t stop,” I mumbled. It was so intense I could have cried. I was prepared to beg for this to never end. Then he wrapped his hand around my cock and began to stroke, and it was too much pleasure. It was sensory overload and obliterated every synapse in my body, and I needed him to make it end but also to please, never stop. “Fuck, Jeremiah,” I cried, almost a sob. “Please.”
