Chapter Twenty-Two #2
The realisation that he’d spent the past two weeks showing me exactly how he felt suddenly smacked me around the head like someone had dropped a ton of bricks on me.
How the fuck hadn’t I noticed? Was I really that dense? Or was I so wrapped up in myself that I hadn’t seen what had been in front of my eyes all along: a man who wanted me, who cherished me, and who spent every day trying to make me happy.
It was everything I’d ever dreamed about having, and it had been right under my nose the whole time.
“Yeah, ‘oh’,” Lane said.
“I still don’t know, though. You choose.”
“You’re giving me that control?” Lane asked, and there was a devious note in his voice that made me shiver. I’d never considered giving up control of my orgasm before, but now it sounded… sexy. My insides squirmed as I thought about all the delicious possibilities that could come from it.
“Yes, I am. I trust you. Besides, you’re kind of doing it already.
I mean, you’re the one who always makes me come, so this is more solidifying something we’re already doing.
Just don’t leave me hanging. It’s one thing to know you’re going to choose when and how I come, but it’s another to not know whether it’s even going to happen. Does that make sense?”
“Of course.” He kissed me softly. “I’d never do something like that to you, not without your consent. I always want to make you feel good.”
“You always do.” I tilted my head forward to rest my forehead against his. “Can we go upstairs now?”
Lane took hold of my hand and led me towards the stairs. Part of me had been tempted to suggest we just head for the sofa, but Sparrow had already claimed it, and I felt bad turfing an old lady out of her seat because I wanted to get laid.
I’d expected everything between us to be heated and desperate, but as soon as we reached our room, everything seemed to slow down like time was stretching out so I could savour every moment.
We stripped off separately because it was so much easier than trying to do it together, and then met in the middle of the room in a collision of deep kisses and wandering hands.
I backed Lane up to the bed until he landed on it with a soft thump, his legs still over the edge.
I trailed kisses down his chest, sucking his nipples and running my tongue down the line of hair to his cock before sinking to my knees on the wooden floor and using my mouth to show him everything I didn’t yet have the words for.
Lane’s fingers fisted in my hair, guiding me to where he wanted me, using me to get himself off in a way that pushed more buttons that had magically appeared on my sexual dashboard.
I moaned around him, resting my forearms on his thighs as he fucked my mouth. My own erection pulsed between my thighs, waiting for attention it wasn’t going to get until Lane was ready.
“You’re so fucking perfect for me,” Lane said, sounding almost reverent. “Such a beautiful mouth. You look so good on your knees for me, Ollie, letting me use you like a perfect little fuck toy.”
I groaned, sparks shooting across my skin. The idea of being his in that way was doing things to me, and combined with the fact he’d started calling me Ollie again just magnified the intensity of everything.
I hadn’t been called Ollie for years, and I’d always hated anyone else using it because I’d always associated it with Lane.
Hearing that old pet name resurface and feeling the warmth in my chest whenever he used it proved what I’d been missing all along: Lane had feelings for me. And I’d been too distracted to see it.
“Are you ready, baby? I’m getting close.” Lane’s fingers tightened in my hair, pulling me deeper onto his cock as I hummed around him. “Fuck!”
Cum shot down my throat, filling my mouth and coating my tongue as I tried to swallow everything. Lane’s cock was pulsing, and I heard his breaths coming in deep, growled pants.
It was so damn sexy I almost wanted to record it so I could listen to it every time I was horny.
“Shit,” Lane said, gently loosening his grip and letting go of my head. “I held on pretty tight. You okay?”
“Yeah.” I nodded as I released his cock, licking the last of his cum from the silken head. “I really liked it.”
“I’ll remember that.” He waved one hand at me. “Come here. I want you to straddle my chest.”
I rose to my knees and positioned myself over him, crawling up his body until my thighs were on either side of his pecs.
Lane looked up at me with such awe like he couldn’t believe I was here for him.
I wanted to say something, to tell him how much I loved being with him, but all my words were lost as his fingers wrapped around my shaft and he lifted his head to flick his tongue over my cock.
“Tell me when you’re getting close,” he said before wrapping his other hand around my thigh to lift my hips up so he could take more of me into his mouth.
“I will.”
Lane let out a pleased hum around me as he began to work my cock so perfectly I couldn’t think of anything else.
My worship of him had been poor by comparison.
Lane was writing rituals with his tongue, offering reverence with his touch and supplication with his gaze.
I lost myself in the stormy depths of his eyes as he brought me to the edge, adoration etched into his features as he released my cock.
“Come for me, Oliver,” he said.
I shattered under his touch and painted his face with my release.