Six #3
There was no doubt about it, Detective Sam Kage was a beautiful man. In clothes, he was gorgeous. Out of them? Breathtaking. I stared my fill of him.
“Can I touch you?”
“Yes, please,” I murmured before I reached for him, drawing his arm down, then curled his hand around my length and let him feel me sliding through his fingers, how hard I was, how silky the skin. “See how good you make me feel?”
He leaned over, and I felt his mouth on my shoulder before he bit down. It hurt and made me gasp at the same time
“Oh, you like that,” he rumbled, leaning into me.
“I do,” I rasped, showing him how to stroke me. “Now fuck me.”
“But I—what if—”
“I’m negative, and you were trying to tell me you are too, weren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“I have a paper in here somewhere that says that.”
“Me too, at home.”
“I never bareback, Detective—believe me, you’re safe.” He probably shouldn’t have believed me, but I was telling the truth. No one ever got near me without a condom. What I was offering him was a gift.
“I… Jesus, I don’t—”
“We’re both good. Have me.”
“But I don’t wanna hurt—”
“You won’t,” I promised as I pointed at my nightstand. “There’s lube in there. Get it.”
He did as he was told, and when he had the small bottle in his hand, I turned my head, and his eyes locked with mine as he gave it to me.
“Come here.” I was gentle, moving slowly because he was watching so intently as I poured lube into my right hand and then slathered his length, stroking him, loving the feel of him thickening in my grip.
When his eyes finally lifted to mine, they were heavy-lidded, and he was rock hard in my hand, his breathing shaky.
I turned and bent over the bed, and I felt his hands sliding over my ass, parting my cheeks, opening me up before he eased inside.
I brought his slick hand back to me, and he stroked me at the same time for as long as he could.
He was careful, moving slowly because he was big. And while I appreciated that, I needed him inside.
“Please,” I begged him, but still, he entered slowly, carefully, taking his time. “I really need you to—”
“I wanna be in you so bad it’s fuckin’ killin’ me,” he ground out, his breath hot on my ear, down the side of my neck, “but I refuse to hurt you, you understand?”
I did, and the thought that he wanted me, desperately, but was holding back over concern for me was a novel one. Normally, when I gave myself to another person, it was more for their pleasure than mine. This was new, and I felt my stupid heart stutter in response.
The press into my body, the stretch of my muscles hurt, but also, the way he was stroking, the steady rhythm, felt amazing. I pushed forward into his fist, then back, farther onto his cock as I writhed in his arms.
“Jory,” he rumbled in my hair. “Turn your head.”
When I did, he took my mouth in a devouring kiss like he wanted to eat me. Our tongues tangled and rubbed as he pushed deeper inside, and then he thrust and I moaned loudly.
His chuckle was filthy and all smug male as he pulled back so he could ease out and then drive to my core a second time.
I screamed his name.
“Oh yes,” he crowed, feeling my muscles clenching around him, but allowing for the slide and the rutting. “Jesus, you’re so tight.”
“I feel good.”
“So good,” he groaned, his hands moving to my hips, holding me there, making sure I couldn’t move as he pounded into me.
It didn’t take long before he called my name, his hips snapping forward one last time as he pinned me under him to the bed.
“Holy shit,” he gasped, careful as he slid out of me moments later.
I rolled over on my back and was ready to take care of myself when he stopped me. I smiled slowly. “You gotta let me do this,” I panted, my laughter forced. “I could die from—”
“I’ll do it. I want to.”
I shook my head. “No, I’ll—”
But he was insistent on reciprocating, pulling my hands away, moving between my legs and taking me into his mouth.
He had no idea what he was doing, but it still felt like heaven, and the fact that he wanted to, coupled with his eyes locked on mine, checking to make sure it was good for me, took me right to the edge.
I warned him to stop, and he moved, watching me finish.
When my eyes slowly drifted back open, I was surprised to find him staring at my face.
“What?”
“I made you feel good.” It was a statement.
“Yes.”
He nodded slowly, moving up beside me, still staring down into my face.
“Are you okay?” I asked softly, reaching for him, loving that he leaned close so I could touch him and smooth the hair back from his forehead. The way he was looking at me made my stomach hurt, so trusting and peaceful.
“Yes.” He nodded as I got up off the bed.
I took longer in the bathroom than I needed to, giving him time to escape, allowing for a clean getaway. I was surprised to find him in the same position, still on his back and staring at the ceiling when I finally emerged. I was halfway to the love seat when he spoke and stopped me.
“Come back to bed.”
I went to the opposite side, close to the wall, and lay on my stomach. I was trying to figure out what to do next when I felt him move, roll toward me, before his fingers slid slowly down my spine.
“I never did that before.”
And I was going to tease him, but the moment was precious, even if there would only ever be this one. “I know.”
“How did you know? Was it bad?”
“No.”
“I wanted it to be.”
“But it wasn’t.” I’d made sure.
“No.”
Long silence.
“Do you never come from being fucked?”
“I normally do, but the touching before, the—”
“Foreplay?”
I thought for a moment. “Sort of. Similar. The more you loosen the muscles, the easier the entry, the better it will be.”
“Makes sense.”
Hard to know what he was thinking. I was going to suggest that he could go, that he didn’t owe me anything, certainly not any more of his time.
“I didn’t…I didn’t know it would be like that.”
“Like what?”
He ignored my question. “We were good, right?” Like he needed his own assurance.
“Yes,” I agreed.
“But it can be better for you.”
“And for you,” I assured him.
He cleared his throat before he pressed his hand against the small of my back. “Do you… Do guys… Can you make it so you’re on your back?”
“Yes.” I exhaled slowly. “I just thought maybe you wanted it so you couldn’t see my face.”
“No. If we could—when you can—I… When you’re ready, I’d like to see.”
Jesus. Just him saying it, wanting to look at me, look into my eyes, sent a hard throb of arousal rolling through me.
And yes, always. I loved sex, loved to bottom, loved to be pounded and filled, but normally I sent men away when we were done.
Once was enough. I was ready to shower and sleep after. Over and over? That wasn’t me.
But this man…this man I wanted to stay right where he was.
“Roll to your back.”
He did what I told him without question and then retrieved the bottle of lube from the tousled bed, the sheets and blanket already in disarray, before I could say a word.
He passed it to me, then watched as I straddled his hips.
When I took his already hardening cock in hand, stroking him languorously, he hissed out a breath.
I didn’t ask for permission, I just leaned close, and when my mouth was hovering over his, only then was I unsure, waiting, his hand lifted to my cheek, his thumb brushing over my lips, once and then again.
“I wasn’t sure if you wanted this,” he rumbled, staring up at me.
It was strange, but there were crazy boundaries that sometimes couldn’t be crossed. Like kissing during the act, in the heat of passion, that was allowed, but afterward, that was too intimate. The whimper that came out of the back of my throat was all want.
“Good,” he whispered, and eased me down for an openmouthed kiss that I sank into.
It was a revelation. And I wasn’t stupid—I knew there was more to my attraction than normal.
He’d been around, somehow turning up in odd places at opportune moments, and each of those times had opened the door to more and more feelings.
Combined with the safety I felt, the desire to be close, my physical reaction to such a big, strong, beautiful man had blindsided me.
My body could be counted on to crave touch and desire intimacy, but my heart wanting someone, craving a specific man, was a whole other thing.
That had never happened before, and I was a bit drowned in a newness that wasn’t altogether welcome.
When I tried to pull back, his hand was on the back of my neck so I couldn’t. He sucked on my lips, the bite that followed not a surprise. The man was possessive, and that only sent heat running over every inch of my skin. I shivered hard.
Even when he rolled me to my back, his mouth never left mine as his hands went to my thighs, spreading them so he could settle between them.
When I wrapped my legs around his hips, he grunted and broke the kiss, panting as he smiled down at me.
The smug smile I had always hated on others melted me.
I realized then that I didn’t care that he saw my desire, saw my heart. That was all right.
Wrapping my arms around his neck, I eased him back down, and he kissed me again, mauling my mouth. When he reached between us, taking my length in his hand, I arched under him, having to turn my head, gasping out a breath.
His smile was lazy as he pushed up off me, untangling my legs before he rolled forward and lifted them to rest over his broad shoulders.
He ran his hands from my thighs up my calves to my ankles, first gently, then harder, his fingers tightening, the knuckles white.
He was going to leave bruises on my skin.
He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it fast, brows furrowed.
“Talk to me,” I begged him, angling myself so the wide head of his shaft notched against my entrance, needing him inside.