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I blink up at the ceiling. “B-but I like when you tell me yes.”
He sucks in a sharp breath, followed by a string of muttered curses. And then I’m lifted into his arms, swung around, and thrown on the bed, knocking a gasp from my lungs.
Nolan crawls up my body in all his rugged, hairy, masculine glory, and I’m a puddle of unfettered need, sinking into the sheets.
I was taught craving another man was a sin, but I see now how wrong they were. It’s not the fact it’s a man I desire so desperately, it’s the intensity with which I claw and grab and reach for him that has them clutching their bibles.
I’d kick down the door to Hell itself to be with this man…
And thatterrifiesthem.
It terrifies them that love could be so raw, so primal, so powerful—stronger than any prayer.
Hooking my legs around Nolan’s thighs, I reach between us, finishing undoing his half-open fly. Together we shove down his jeans and boxer briefs, and then he’s shoving my legs toward my chest, pushing me up onto my upper back, and burying his face between my cheeks, eating at my hole like a man starved.
I clutch and twist at the rumpled sheets, thrusting and rocking against his scratchy face.
His wicked tongue laps hotly at my hole, pushing, pushing, nudging at the ring of muscle until it gives, permitting him entry.
Moaning, pleading, I arch my head back into the bed, the tendons in my neck straining, protruding. Teeth mashed together.
Nolan pulls back, shoving his hand through his hair, pushing it back. Then he wipes the back of it across his mouth. Chest heaving, he looks up at me, and grins dangerously.
Walking on his knees, he gets his thighs shoved under my ass, and he rocks me back, keeping my hole at face level.
Blinking heavily, I watch through the narrow gap between my legs as he cups a hand to his mouth and spits, before dipping his fingers between my cheeks. My hole quivers against his digits, and I feel wetness enter me, just before a finger dips in.
I gasp, arching.
Planting his free hand on the bed next to my head, he leans over me, pressing my knees to my chest. “That’s it, sweetheart. Let’s get you nice and wet for me.”
Garbled gibberish spills from my lips in between reedy gasps and breathless whimpers.
He shoves his finger in deeper, twisting it almost punishingly. “You’re being so good for me. Such a good boy.”
“N-Nol,” I plead.
Leaning back, he bends his head and pushes a thick string of saliva from his lips, aiming it right at my hole where his finger pries me open.
Wetness drips inside me and my body jerks—my dick pulsing, weeping onto my chest.
“So sexy, sweetheart. The way you open for me.”
He thrusts a second finger inside me, deep into my channel. Spreading his spit around, he gets me nice and stretched for him.
Wrenching my head back, I dig into the pillow.
The pressure is unreal—bordering painful—but if anything the slight discomfort—the sting—has me sucking him in deeper. Thrusting and rocking and twisting against him. He doesn’t try to hold me still.
“Nol, I’m gonna—” I shiver out, only for him to pull out, and reach up, squeezing my cock at the base.
“Uh-uh. Not yet. You can hold out longer than that.”
“But No—”
A hand smacks my ass and I gasp, arching, blinking wide at the peaked rafters.
“Too much?” he grits out through his teeth, like he’s trying to restrain himself. I can feel the doubts starting to stack on his shoulders as he physically eases back.
