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Our eyes meet, and I slide my hand over his fly, squeezing the steely length of him. “Whatever control you’ve found? I’m going to break it.”
And then I spin him around so it’s his back to the wall… and drop to my knees.
* * *
Cam
Trevor has no idea. My control broke the second I found him back in town.
That conversation at dinner, having him actually tell me how his life isn’t in a place that leaves him available for a relationship just brought reality back into focus. It reminded me that self-preservation is a thing. That we have the chance to be smart. All well and good until I touched him again and realized that protecting my heart stopped mattering.
For years I regretted not taking the chance we had.
And while he isn’t offering me the same thing now that he was then, I’ll take it anyway.
I’ll take what we can have, while we have it, and deal with the aftermath when it comes.
For now though?
He reverses our positions, and when I’m the one with the wall holding me up— and it has to be because my knees are fucking jelly —this man who’s been the longest-starring member of my fantasies drops to his knees and starts on my belt.
“Oh Jesus… you don’t ha—”
“Want to.” He pushes my fly open and frees my hard-on with a sure, confident grip. Thumb brushing over the leaking tip, his eyes haze. “Need to.”
I nod, pretty sure I’ve stopped breathing, but I’m too transfixed by the hot, wet suction and nut-blowing visual of Trevor taking me into his mouth to care.
He grips my thighs, those big hands rubbing up and down as he pulls me in, takes more, and then draws back until my dick bobs free of his lips.
Ocean blue eyes meet mine.
“Lose the shirt, Captain.” His always deep voice has turned gravelly rough. Sexy beyond belief. “Want to see you while I suck you off.”
Holy shit.
My hands shakily work the buttons as he watches, jerking me with slow, firm strokes.
I shrug out of one arm and groan as Trevor rubs over his fly. Then, time sort of stutters. My shirt is on the floor and I’m watching his mouth drag over me again and again, each time giving me the wet rub of his tongue and then the deep pulling suction that has the nerves tingling along my spine.
He wasn’t lying about wanting to look at me, either. His hot eyes are practically burning over my chest and shoulders. We push into fast-forward, his motions coming quick, my lungs working at triple time. I catch a glimpse of him jacking himself, the purple head of his cock pumping through his fist as he takes me into the snug hold of his throat and– “Fuck!”
Lightning shoots through my body, wracking me with pleasure so intense it feels like it’s burned through to my soul. Gasping, I watch as Trevor swallows me down, his eyes clamped shut as his own release strikes.
I see it then. Clear as day.
I’m signing up for pain. This is a heartbreak guaranteed to happen. But it doesn’t stop me from urging Trevor to his feet and kissing him again. Licking into his mouth to taste us together. Threading my fingers through his hair to hold him close.
We need to clean up. We need to talk. But as we stand here sharing breath, the only thing I can manage is to ask for the one thing I can’t live without.
“Stay.”
* * *
Dorsey’s doesn’t open until noon on Sundays, and I’ve never in my life been so grateful to be able to sleep in.
Trevor is a snuggler. He’s a big, muscle-bound beast of a man who crushes it on the ice and makes this almost purring sound when he pulls me into him while he’s sleeping.
Yes. I watched him sleep.
