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I shake my head. “Not a performance.”
Corrin eyes me, his gaze full of questions. While I’d love to answer them all, now isn’t the time.
“Let’s get out of here. You promised me food.”
That seems to snap him out of it. He links our hands together, tells Ken he’ll text him, then leads us out to the car waiting in the queue.
The minute we’re enclosed in the space after he tells the driver to go grab burgers, he pounces on me. Wide eyed, he demands, “Speak. Tell me what you meant in there.”
“What I meant when? You have to be specific.”
He groans, the sound so guttural my cock thickens instantly. Not that it wasn’t already half hard after the make-out session we just had.
“I mean, tell me why you said it wasn’t a performance. Tell me why you got jealous. Tell me it’s not just me.”
The last part is whisper soft. If I weren’t so focused on him, I’d have missed it.
Reaching up to rub my fingers along his jaw, I give him the honesty he deserves.
“I said it wasn’t a performance because it’s the truth. I did what I wanted to do. And I got jealous because I didn’t want anyone thinking they could have you. I hated hearing her confidently speak about taking you from me,” I growl.
A smile blooms across his gorgeous face as he leans into my touch. “From you? Do you own me, Austen Page?”
I shake my head roughly. “You’ve got it the wrong way, Corrin. You own me. I’ve been so blind to it, to this. To us. I… feel things now. Things about you, and I want them. I want you. I — I’m fucking this up. I know I am.”
When I move to pull away, he grabs my arm. “Don’t,” he whispers a second before he kisses me.
Unlike the one we shared just minutes ago; this one is languid. We savor one another with gentle strokes and teasing nips. I’m hot all over, my body alive for the first time maybe ever.
“I want to touch you. Can I do that, baby? Will you let me?” He says the words between kisses, his pleas desperately matching my own needs.
Rather than answer with words, I pull his hand to my erection. The second I feel him press against the fabric of my suit, I drop my head back and moan. It feels good. No, better than good. There’s a word for it. I know there is. I just can’t remember the damn thing. Hell, I barely remember any words right now besides please and yes and more.
Corrin doesn’t waste any time in his touch. He doesn’t ask for anything else. I’ve given him every bit of permission he needs.
I watch him in a starstruck manner as he undoes my pants and pulls me free of my briefs. His fist is firm around my length, the touch familiar but not. There are calluses on his hand from years spent playing his guitars. And those fingers, while long, are much smaller than mine. I look enormous in his hold.
Leaning over my length, he spits down, a long stream of saliva moving from his mouth to my crown. It’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen in my life. I want to record it and replay it on loop until I’m old and gray.
“You’re bigger than I’d thought you’d be,” Corrin whispers breathlessly.
I wince. “Is that bad? We don’t have to…”
“Oh, we have to. I’m going to stroke this bad boy until you come for me tonight. Then another day, when I know I can get you alone again, you’re going to fuck my mouth. And eventually, when I know you’re ok with it, I’ll bend over while you fill me with this beauty. You can have everything. You hear me Austen? Every fucking thing I have is yours to use. My mouth. My ass. My hands.”
The passion with which he speaks is enthralling. I’m caught up in the force behind each word. It takes me a minute to even realize my body is tightening in that way I’m only vaguely familiar with.
My balls draw up right as Corrin gives me another stroke. His eyes light up.
“Are you going to come for me, baby? Do I get to see how sexy you are when you fall apart?”
As if he summoned my orgasm, I break. Millions of little pieces, each with their own stamp of Corrin’s touch, scatter into the universe as the whole of me shifts.
I’m not just Austen Page anymore. I’m something, someone else entirely.
Chapter 11
Corrin
