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His brown eyes collide with mine, and I smirk.
Hunger flares his features, his eyes darkening.
Jesus.
Grabbing his hand, I guide his finger to his mouth, shoving the tip between his pouty, red lips. He’s been chewing the hell out of them, and fuck, if my chest doesn’t clench at the thought of sucking that pliant flesh in my mouth.
I want to soothe it with my tongue.
I want to taste him.
Instead, I watch as he tasteshimself—lapping at his cum dripping from my finger like it’s his favorite treat.
A deep-chested groan vibrates my chest, and I curl my fingers inside him.
He stiffens, eyes rounding.
“Sore?”
He swallows, ducking his head away from my finger. “M-maybe a little. But I like it.”
My brows spike at that.
“It was weird at first,” he says slowly, softly, as if he’s testing out the words. “More pressure than anything, but I…I liked it. A lot. It felt…secure.”
And there goes that tightening in my chest again.
Forcing a swallow, I brush back some of his sweaty, messy hair.
He ducks his head even further, whispering in the space between our sticky chests. “Is that weird?”
Slipping my fingers free, I roll him onto his back and lean up over him.
I thumb his chin and peer down at those rich brown eyes, and I shake my head. “No. It’s not weird.”
He smiles thinly and looks away like maybe he doesn’t believe it.
“Hey. Sky, look at me.”
His throat works with a swallow, but finally he meets my gaze, wariness and something else I can’t make out flickering back at me.
“Nothing about what you want or need is weird,” I say gruffly.
That boulder in my chest turns jagged, scraping along my insides.
“You’re perfect. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. If they do, then they’re wrong, and you don’t need that kind of bullshit in your life.”
He coughs a wet laugh. “You…you can’t say stuff like that?”
I scowl. “Why not?”
“Well, for one, perfection doesn’t exist.”
I roll my eyes.
“And two…” This time, his words cut off, trailing pointedly.
A lump forms in my throat, and I avert my gaze somewhere over his head.
