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I slow my movement, full of suspense as I pull the hem up to his chest, seeing the dark letters before revealing a sight I thought I’d only ever get to enjoy in my imagination.
TROYis written—no, practically printed—just under his pec. As my jaw drops, a jolt of adrenaline courses through me. I inspect the letters carefully. “Why does this look like a tattoo?” I run my thumb over it.
“It’s henna. Taylor has a friend who does them.”
He pulls his arms over his head, and I hurry to get him out of the hoodie and look at his naked torso. Tossing his hoodie over my shoulder, I take in his body art. He’s wearing my name—proudly.
“It feels even better than I thought it would,” I tell him. “Doesn’t that stuff last for a few weeks?”
“Yeah. Figured I’d see how I liked it.”
“I’m jealous since I’ve had to just keep writing your name on my wrist.”
I rest my hand against the top of his abdomen, right under my name. His flesh looks so beautiful with my name on it. I lean down and study it, then offer a peck, like he did with the brand on my wrist. Not even sure why; it just feels like the right thing to do.
“You gonna try and act like that didn’t surprise you?”
I snicker. “I think it’s safe to say you won this one.”
“Good. I love winning.”
“I love winning too. You just seem to make losing fun for me.”
“So this means you do what I say tonight, right?”
Why can’t I stop grinning? “What did you have in mind?”
“Well, let’s go to the bedroom and find out,” he says, taking my hand and guiding me there. I’m still reeling with excitement over his surprise, and when we get into his room, he turns to me. My eyes shift right back to that spot.
“Take your clothes off, T.”
As I obey, he removes his shoes and socks. By the time I’m stripped down, I’m already rock hard, and he stands in front of me, his eyes drinking in my body, watching me like some kind of creeper.
And I love it.
“Now, take my clothes off,” he orders.
I step forward and unfasten his belt, his cock rising along the fabric of his pant leg. I hook my thumb between the waistband of his pants and boxers and pull them to the floor, until I’m on my knees. With his cock in my face, I can’t help myself. I lean in, lick from the base of his shaft up to the head, before engulfing it in my mouth.
God, he tastes good. His hand runs down my head, to the back of my neck, stroking.
When I release his cock, he says, “That was hot, but from now on, why don’t you just stick to doing what I tell you?”
I gaze up at him, and he’s got this wicked grin on his face, one that leaves me wanting to know what he has planned. “Yes, sir,” I say.
I hold his pants down, and he steps out. Then I push to my feet.
He runs the back of his hand along my shoulder, down my chest, then flips his hand to feel down to my navel. “You are a beautiful man, Troy Locklear.”
His hand returns to my shoulder and runs down until he’s reached my wrist, which he gently flips over to see his own name.
His green gaze hits me like a wave as he says, “Kiss me.”
I obey, and he pulls me close, our cocks wedged between us, sliding up our groins as I hook my arms around him, tugging him tight against me. Our tongues explore each other’s mouths, the heat in our bodies intensifying as Atlas guides me. We work together to tear the comforter off the bed before falling onto it, our mouths and hands and legs locking together as we make out.
There’s something different about this time. I’m still hungry for him, but this isn’t like the frenzied fucks we shared early on—the ones where I felt like I had to take everything in case I couldn’t get it again. There’s trust now…in Atlas, in knowing that tonight he’s mine and I’m his.
I feel safe in his hold as he pulls away and whispers, “I want you to fuck me, Troy.”
