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I pause at his question. “I need you, again, and you’re too sore to take me. I don’t bottom often, but I want you inside of me.”
“Why don’t you let me decide if I’m too sore?” I sass, but he’s not wrong.
He quiets me with a kiss, enough for my jolly rod to come out and play, growing against him. “If you don’t top, that’s okay. We can do other stuff. But, I won’t ever hurt you.”
Something in my heart changes in an instant. He’s not out for his next release. If he was, he wouldn’t care about my ass, or hurting it. His need for intimacy is real, and I get it, because I want to be just as close to him.
I’m about to ask the obvious question when he produces a little foil packet in his fingers. “Really? That confident?” I arch an eyebrow higher in question.
“Not until I saw the heat in your eyes, baby. But seriously…”
I stop him with a quick kiss. “I don’t top often, but if there’s ever a reason to top, it’s for you. It’s not sex, or not completely about sex, but being as close to you as I can in this moment.”
His hands cup my face. “I kind of love it when you’re sappy. Let’s be sappy together, because I fucking feel the same way.”
His hands are rough with years of sculpting, but in it, there’s a sense of protection with his touch. Like he’d hurt himself before hurting me, to keep me safe. The muscles rippling under his washboard abs accelerate my desire for him. My eyes stay transfixed on his powerful body, and I find I want nothing more than to be buried in him.
My hand cups his cheek, as light reflects over his ruggedly handsome face like rays of sunshine. “Only you, Noah. I want things with you I’ve never wanted with another. Please tell me you feel the same.”
I hate how needy I am for his reassurance.
“Yeah, Ash. I feel the same way, honey.”
He calls me a bossy bottom, but he’s seen nothing compared with how bossy I am as a top.
I circle his body around, pushing him up against the metal of the industrial shower stall. “You want my cock?”
“Fuck yeah, I do.”
“Then beg for it. Tell me how much you want my cock,” I whisper against his ear, peppering bite marks up and down his earlobe.
“I need the hardness of your cock to split me open. I need your fingers to dig into my skin. When I look into the mirror later, I want to see the imprint of your teeth and fingertips on my body. I have to know, when we’re apart, that you’re thinking of doing this over and over again to me. Maybe even getting off on the idea. And you can show me how much it makes you come when we’re not together.”
“You have a way with words, sweetheart. Ever thought of being a poet, or a writer?” My bites continue down his neck.
Lube is on the same shelf as his shampoo and body wash. I reach for it and squeeze it on my finger. As I pull him tighter against me, I push one finger into his tightness.
His whimpers tell me everything I need to hear. “Oh, fuck. Yeah. More. Give me more. I need more of you.”
He only has to ask and two fingers slide into his now-slippery hole. “You’re so fucking tight. Just think what you’ll feel like when it’s my cock.”
My lips trail kisses up and down his back, and every couple of kisses, I leave a love bite that he can admire later, when I have to go home. The idea of leaving him is already filling me with dread.
“I’m addicted to you, Ash.”
“How?” My question is a breathy whisper against the skin of his back.
“You’re my drug, Ash—already addicted to you, babe.”
His words are everything. His movements, moans, and groans are fucking everything.
“You’re my drug, too, Noah,” I say, placing another finger inside of him. I’m pushing into him, faster, and deeper.
“I need you, Ash. Please, I need your cock inside of me.”
Removing my fingers, I have to pause to hassle with the fucking condom. I should have put it on first; now everything is taking longer because I want him so fucking bad my hands are shaking.
“You tell me to stop and I stop. You got it, Noah?”
