Chapter 13 PSL Ever After #3
I shivered, not from cold, but from the way his gaze dragged over me, reverent, hungry.
My shirt slid from my shoulders, forgotten on the floor.
His flannel followed, landing in a heap at the edge of the bed.
The undershirts were next, pulled off with less ceremony, leaving us both bare from the waist up.
“Still smug?” he asked, voice thick, eyes on my chest, my arms, the line of my collarbone.
“Always,” I breathed, leaning down to brush a kiss over his shoulder, then another at the hollow of his throat. “But not half as smug as I’ll be when you’re begging for it.”
His laughter was ragged, hungry, his hands finding my waist, thumbs tracing the sharp jut of my hips. “Big talk for a man who wears capes.”
My hands slid to his jeans, fingers finding the button, working it open with deliberate slowness. “You love the cape,” I murmured, voice all silk and sin. “Admit it.”
He arched up, groaning when my palm pressed over the thick heat at his crotch. “Maybe I love what’s under the cape more.”
“You’re about to,” I promised, smile wicked as I eased his zipper down, knuckles grazing the straining length beneath the denim.
I dragged the jeans down his hips, inch by inch, letting the anticipation build, letting him feel the hunger in every touch.
His thighs—solid, dusted with silver hair—tensed beneath my palms, legs opening for me without hesitation.
He returned the favor, fingers working at my belt, then my fly, hands greedy, sure. The sound of the zipper splitting open felt obscene in the quiet, a punctuation to the stuttered breaths, the shared laughter gone hungry.
“Lift,” I instructed, and he obeyed, hips rising so I could peel his jeans off, leaving only dark boxer briefs stretched tight over his cock.
He rolled me onto my back in turn, straddling my hips, hands finding the waist of my slacks, dragging them down, baring me, leaving me in nothing but silk boxers and the last shreds of composure.
My gaze dragged up the length of him. The light caught the silver at his chest, the lines at his waist, the evidence of years lived and loved and lost. I wanted all of it.
“God, you’re beautiful,” I whispered, letting my hand slide up his thigh, over the curve of his ass, finding the thick bulge straining his briefs. My thumb dragged over the outline, teasing, tracing, coaxing a growl from deep in his chest.
He leaned down, mouth finding my neck, teeth nipping, tongue soothing the sting. My hips arched, rolling up into him, our cocks grinding together through thin cotton, desperate for more friction, more heat.
“Take these off,” I commanded, hands curling in the waistband of his briefs, but he just grinned, shaking his head.
“Not yet,” he teased, dragging his own hand up my body, pausing to play with my nipple, pinching, rolling, making me gasp.
“You’re impossible,” I breathed, but I was smiling, already lost.
“So make me possible,” he answered, voice low and hot against my ear. His hands pushed my own briefs down, baring my hips, my thighs, but leaving me covered where it mattered most.
We rolled again, a tangle of limbs, laughter, desperate kisses. I pressed him down into the bed, pinning his wrists above his head, mouth finding every patch of bare skin I could reach—neck, collarbone, chest, nipples, the dip of his stomach, the trail of hair disappearing beneath his underwear.
“Gonna make you feel so good tonight,” I promised, teeth scraping at his hipbone. “Gonna worship every inch.”
His voice was a wrecked thing. “You already do.”
The sheets rustled beneath us, every movement drawing a new sound from Richard—gasps, growls, the kind of laughter that only came when you were truly seen, truly wanted.
I pinned him down, wrists caged by one hand, bodies pressed so close there wasn’t room for air between us.
The light spilled over him, carving out every muscle, every scar and line, and I let my gaze drink in the whole feast of him.
“Let me have you,” I whispered, dragging my mouth over the thick rope of his bicep, tracing the vein with my tongue. “All of you. Every part.” My fingers squeezed, feeling the power there, the evidence of years swinging hammers, hauling lumber, building a life with his bare hands.
He tried to hide a shiver, but failed—his body answered me before his mouth could.
My lips traveled lower, tongue gliding over his forearm, following the whorls of hair down to his elbow, then up again to his shoulder, nipping lightly at the place where muscle met bone.
I let myself linger there, savoring the way his breath caught, the way his thighs flexed beneath me, already pushing up for friction.
“Never met anyone so strong,” I murmured, voice low, almost reverent.
“Drives me fucking wild.” My hands mapped his chest, slow circles, palms pressing into the meat of him, fingertips teasing over every dip and plane.
Each pass made his breath come faster, his cock swelling, straining hard and thick against the dark cotton.
The real prize waited under his arm—a patch of soft, wild hair, scent of him strong and intoxicating.
I buried my face there, inhaling deeply, letting the heat and sweat and masculine musk go to my head.
My tongue darted out, licking a slow, filthy line along the edge, tasting salt and clean skin and something purely Richard.
A strangled moan split the silence. His arms flexed, biceps jumping under my hands, as I licked deeper, nosing into the dark, licking, sucking, letting the spit gather. My nose pressed in, dragging up every drop of sweat, tongue flicking and lapping until he was panting, a wreck beneath me.
“God, Ed—” His voice broke off, hips jerking up, leaking against the fabric.
“Say it,” I demanded, licking again, mouth greedy. “Tell me how much you want it.”
“Want you everywhere,” he choked out, head tossed back, beard scratching against the sheets. “Fuck, you make me—”
His words cut off into a moan as I nipped, then sucked hard at the tender skin in the hollow, marking him with a wet kiss.
I let my tongue drag out, tasting him, breathing him, making a show of how much I loved every inch.
His armpit was musky and hot, hair damp with sweat, and I feasted on it, groaning into him as his body trembled.
“Could live here,” I teased, voice muffled. “Could spend all night just worshipping your pits, making you beg.”
A laugh, desperate and broken, burst out of him. “You’re insane.”
“And you’re perfect,” I shot back, trailing kisses up his arm, biting his bicep, then sliding my tongue down the line of his chest.
My mouth hovered over his nipple, letting the heat of my breath tease the stiff peak before I took it between my lips.
I sucked, gentle at first, then harder, tongue flicking, swirling, biting lightly.
His hips shot up, cock leaking, head thrown back.
One big hand found the back of my head, holding me there, needy and wild.
“Sensitive?” I smirked, lips glistening, breath fogging against his skin.
He only moaned, wordless, the need in him so sharp I could feel it in my own bones.
I moved to the other nipple, lavishing it with the same attention—licking, biting, flicking with my tongue, leaving it red and swollen, spit slick. My free hand explored everywhere else—up his ribs, across his stomach, tracing the hard line of muscle beneath the slight softness of age.
The tips of my fingers dipped below the band of his underwear, teasing at the trail of hair leading lower. But I didn’t give him the satisfaction of more, not yet.
“You’re shaking,” I teased, voice wicked, pride swelling at the sight of this mountain of a man undone beneath me. “Can’t handle a little attention?”
His laughter was more like a growl, hips rolling, cock throbbing against the fabric. “Keep running your mouth and see what happens.”
“Promises, promises,” I said, and then bent to take his nipple between my teeth again, sucking hard, tugging, working it until his whole body arched, a mess of muscle and sweat and hunger.
I licked down his sternum, mouth dragging over his belly, pausing to press open-mouthed kisses to the thick muscle of his obliques, tongue tracing every line, every scar.
My hands roamed everywhere—over the hard swell of his quads, the thick meat of his thighs, the coarse hair that dusted his calves, the flex of his calves and the delicate skin behind his knee.
Every inch of him was worth savoring.
“God, you’re unreal,” I said, letting my palms glide up the backs of his thighs, thumbs digging into muscle, working the tension loose. “Never wanted anyone like this. Never needed anyone like this.”
Richard’s chest heaved, eyes wild, lips bitten red. “Take it, then. Take whatever you want.”
That permission—the surrender, the trust—lit a fire in my chest, burning away the last threads of restraint. My hands gripped his thighs, squeezing, kneading, savoring the thickness of them, the heat and weight and power. Every inch of Richard felt like a prize, and I wasn’t about to rush this.
“Gonna take my time with you,” I murmured, mouth trailing hot kisses down the path of his abs, letting my breath fog over the damp cotton stretched tight around his cock.
The outline was obscene, thick and heavy, drooling a dark spot through the fabric.
I mouthed at it, pressing open-mouthed kisses along the length, letting the heat of my breath soak in, teasing until he was cursing, hips pushing up for more.
“Easy,” I whispered, voice wrecked with want. “Let me unwrap you. Want to savor every fucking second.”