Chapter 30 #3
His hand slid under my sweater, warm against the skin of my stomach. I hummed at the touch. Everything about him was home and heat and the kind of slow-burning attraction that had stopped being casual a long time ago.
I turned in his arms, smiling as our noses brushed. “Bar’s all decorated.”
“Mostly,” he said, eyes shifting to the mistletoe above us.
I kissed him before he could say anything smug, just to shut him up. But then it wasn’t about shutting him up at all.
His hands moved down to my hips. Mine cupped his jaw, then tangled in the back of his hair. We kissed like we hadn’t done it a thousand times. Like it still shocked us both how good it felt.
I pulled his flannel shirt loose from his jeans, slipping my fingers beneath it, tracing the skin over his ribs. He shivered.
“The bar’s closed,” I whispered.
“Exactly,” he said, tugging me closer by the belt loop. “No customers. No rules.”
His kisses moved to my jaw, down my neck, slow and unhurried. I felt drunk on it. On him. The way he could make the whole world feel narrowed down to just this room, just this moment.
He shoved my shirt up. I lifted it over my head and tossed it onto a pile of fake snow.
He dropped to his knees, right there on the floor between the jukebox and a crate of fake poinsettias. My breath caught.
“Liam,” I said, but my voice broke in the middle.
He looked up at me, eyes hot, then unfastened my jeans. His hands were sure, his touch reverent. My hand curled into his hair. I was already hard, already leaking, and he looked up at me as he took me into his mouth, slow, steady, and savoring it.
I nearly buckled. I bit my lip. Head tipped back.
I braced myself on the bar, eyes fluttering shut. His mouth was heaven. Warm, wet, skilled in a way that felt devotional. Not just sex. Worship. My fingers curled into his hair as my hips rocked forward, and he let me, matching the rhythm like he wanted every part of me.
“Fuck,” I whispered. “I love your mouth.”
He gripped my hips, hollowing his cheeks, feeling me twitch against his tongue as I hit the back of his throat. His own cock strained against his jeans, but this wasn’t about him. Not yet.
I moaned low and quiet. “Fuck. You’re gonna make me… ”
His eyes never left mine, even as I came in his mouth, body trembling, heart pounding. He held me steady through all of it, like he always did.
I came with a shudder, both hands in his hair, moaning his name so soft it felt like a secret.
When I opened my eyes, his were glassy and reverent. His smile was intoxicating.
“You’re trouble,” I said.
“You love it.”
When he stood, I dragged him into a deep kiss, tasting myself on his lips and not caring. His hands framed my face. My thumb traced the line of his jaw.
“Take me home,” I whispered.
His smile was slow, a little wicked. “You planning to return the favor?”
“Like you even have to ask.”
I grabbed his hand, fingers laced tight. The tree twinkled behind us.
We left the lights on, Brenda winking in the corner like she knew exactly what we’d been up to.
Liam
The drive to Sam’s house barely registered. I kept one hand on the wheel and the other on his thigh, letting my thumb trail lazy circles just above his knee. He was staring at me, a grin playing on his lips, and I knew he was enjoying the slow burn.
I slid my hand higher, my fingers tracing the hard muscle of his inner thigh until I was brushing against the seam of his jeans. He shifted in his seat, spreading his legs wider in a silent invitation.
"You're a fucking tease, Sam," I murmured, my eyes bouncing between him and the dark road ahead.
You have no idea," he breathed, his voice low.
My hand moved up the final few inches, my palm pressing firmly against the hard, thick length of him straining against the denim.
I gave it a slow squeeze, feeling him twitch beneath my touch.
I traced the shape of him with my fingers, from the base all the way to the head, outlining his impressive size through the rough fabric.
He let out a shaky breath, his head falling back against the seat. "Liam..." he warned, but it sounded more like a plea.
I was about to pop the button on his jeans, to finally get my hand on him properly, when he suddenly moved.
With a swift, decisive motion, he pushed my hand away.
Before I could even protest, he was fumbling with my belt and button, yanking my jeans and boxers down just enough to free me.
My penis sprang out, thick and hard, the head already glistening in the dim glow of the dashboard.
"Keep your eyes on the road," he ordered, and then he leaned over.
I felt a hot, wet puff of breath against my shaft before his tongue swirled around the head.
I groaned, my grip tightening on the steering wheel as he took me into his mouth, sinking down until I felt the back of his throat.
The world outside the car disappeared, reduced to the hum of the engine and the incredible, wet heat of Sam's mouth as he gave me the best road head of my life.
The car rolled to a stop in front of Sam’s place, the engine ticking softly as it cooled, like it needed a second to catch its breath too.
We sat there for a beat longer than necessary, foreheads pressed together, both of us breathing hard, the night suddenly very quiet around us.
Sam laughed under his breath, a little stunned, a little wrecked, and I kissed the corner of his mouth before we finally pulled ourselves apart.
Inside was a blur of fumbling hands and keys, the front door clicking shut behind us like the last line of defense giving up.
The minute we stepped inside, I had him backed against the door, my mouth already on his. I hadn’t planned it, but everything about him pulled me closer. His scent, the warmth of his body, the way he looked at me like I was something solid.
“Planning to kiss me senseless before we even get to the bed?” he murmured, flirting.
“Maybe I want you delirious before your back ever hits the mattress,” I said, dragging my lips along his jaw. Every word was the truth.
He grinned and tugged me toward the bedroom, shedding his coat, tossing mine aside. I followed without question, like I’d been chasing this moment for months. Which I had. Not just the sex, but the safety of it. The rightness. The damn miracle that was this man.
We undressed slowly, like we had all the time in the world. I let my eyes trace every inch of him, memorizing the slopes of his body, the freckles scattered across his shoulders, the faint flush climbing his chest. I wanted to touch him everywhere at once.
When we were both bare, he paused, hands on my waist. I leaned in, kissing him again, deeper this time, pouring all my need into it.
My hands roamed his back, down to the firm curve of his ass, pulling him flush against me.
I could feel him, hard and insistent against me.
I broke the kiss, resting my forehead against his.
He took a shaky breath, his eyes searching mine. “Liam, I want… I want you to fuck me.”
The words between us, a confession and a plea all at once. My heart hammered against my ribs. He’d never asked for that before, never offered that part of himself.
I pulled back just enough to see his face, to see the raw vulnerability in his eyes. “Are you sure?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper.
He shook his head, a small, determined movement. “I’ve never been more sure. I want to feel you. All of you. Inside me.”
The trust in his words was overwhelming, a gift I wasn’t sure I deserved but would cherish with everything I had. I kissed him again, a slow, reverent kiss that promised I would be worthy of it.
I cupped his face and nodded. “I want you.”
He nodded too, like he needed to mark the moment between us, and kissed me slow and deep.
We made our way to the bed, laughing as we bumped into the nightstand, fumbling with pillows, kissing through the awkwardness. It was messy, imperfect, and completely fucking perfect.
I reached into the drawer, pulling out the bottle of lube and a strip of condoms. My hands were shaking with anticipation. I tore one off, but Sam’s hand covered mine, stopping me. His eyes were dark, serious.
“No,” he said softly. “Not tonight. I want to feel all of this. Just you.”
My breath hitched. “Sam…”
He held my gaze, steady. “We’ve both been tested. And I haven’t been with anyone else since we were.”
Something in my chest eased, even as everything else tightened. I nodded. “Same. And we’re both on PrEP.”
“I know,” he said, his thumb stroking the back of my hand. “I just wanted to say it out loud.”
“Me too,” I murmured.
“I want to feel everything,” he added quietly.
I tossed the condoms aside, my heart pounding with a new wave of intensity.
I squeezed a generous amount of lube onto my fingers, warming it between them before gently tracing his rim.
He tensed for a second, then relaxed with a soft sigh.
I worked one finger inside, slowly, giving him time to adjust, monitoring his face for any sign of discomfort.
His brow furrowed, but not in pain. It was concentration, focus.
I added a second finger, spreading them gently, stretching him, preparing him.
I curled my fingers, searching, and when I found that small, firm bundle of nerves, his back arched off the bed and a choked moan escaped his lips.
“There,” he gasped. “Fuck, right there.” I smiled, stroking that spot again and again until he was writhing beneath me, his body begging for more.
I slicked myself up, my own dick throbbing with need. I positioned myself at his entrance, my gaze locked with his. I pressed forward, just the head, and his breath caught. I froze, seeing his eyes flutter closed. His fingers squeezed mine, anchoring both of us.
“Sam,” I whispered, barely holding it together. “You feel so good.”
His voice came back to me shaky, breathy. “So do you. You’re… fuck, you’re perfect.”