Chapter 18 Homecoming #2
His arm wraps around my neck at the same time his leg locks on my hip.
He smashes us together with another brutal kiss.
I’m panting when I pull away, my mouth wet and aching, my eyes glazed.
Okay, yeah, he’s different, but again, I never needed him to be innocent.
I only ever needed him to be himself. Whoever he is, I want to know him—intimately.
We’re still on my side of the bed, so I’m close enough to the nightstand to get what I need.
Sitting back on my heels, I stare down at him as he stares at my hand rolling on the condom.
He picks up the lube. When I hold out my hand, he gives me a quarter-sized squirt of it before tossing it aside and lifting his legs.
I stare hungrily at his open hole, hairless, pink, and just as perfect as the rest of him. “Is this too fast?” I wonder out loud.
“I’ve been up since five a.m. It’s not too fast.”
I know exactly what he means. Waiting until four o’clock to see him was one of the worst plans I’ve ever made. Yeah, I had time to clean, but damn. That was all day.
“Also,” he adds. “We’re going on four years. If you thought I was sick of waiting before…”
I nod, eyes on his. “I hear you.”
I stroke my cock, making sure it’s slick, before I press two fingers to his rim. He licks his lips and nudges his ass toward me. “I’m ready. Just fuck me.”
I slide my fingers inside, meeting very little resistance. He’s hot, and a rush of desire hits me so powerfully, I shudder. His brows draw together as his eyes close.
“Mm…fuck,” he whispers.
My gaze skims from his face to those nipple rings, his stiff dick and smooth balls, down to where my fingers probe in and out of him, slick and noisy.
My cock thumps upward, and I feel the ache of it in my spine.
It makes me want to curl into him, bury myself inside him, lose everything all over again.
“I can’t wait,” I whisper, my fingers already out, my hands braced on the pillow supporting his head.
He takes hold of me, notching me in place with a lift of his hips and a tug on my dick. This is the only ass I’ve ever fucked. I haven’t wanted another one, and as I slide back inside it and Tristan—Tristan—groans, I understand why I never bothered with anyone else.
Because this is special. He’s so fucking special, and there’s never been anyone else I’ve wanted this much.
This way. Never been anyone I truly wanted to be with at all until he came along.
I admit, I’ve spent a lot of time wondering why that is.
Like what the fuck is so great about this one guy?
But in this moment? Now? I don’t question it.
It has nothing to do with his ass being amazing. How the fuck would I know if it’s any different than anyone else’s? It’s the way I feel when I’m inside him. Welcome. Connected. Whole.
We quickly rearrange to kiss. I have a hand behind his back, lifting him in some impossible way to keep his mouth attached to mine as I thrust and thrust. He’s flexible, and thank God, because I need his mouth more than anything.
I need his breath and his sounds and the soft words he whispers. “Yes. Archer. Please. More.”
I move, and he clenches, over and over again, and it might be fast, it might be way too vigorous, but he comes after only a few heated minutes, and then I do, too, refusing to deny myself this one thing.
This dream I’ve had of being with him again.
Feeling like this again. Basking in his beautiful light. Again.
“Jesus fucking Christ.”
Tristan’s ass is bright pink where I slapped it, and his neck is bruised from the way I’ve sucked the sweet skin there repeatedly into my mouth.
He bites off whatever else he was about to say, gasping as I slide my rigid dick into his hole for our third round tonight.
We had our romantic homecoming, which was all very kissy and straightforward, but now we’re making up for lost time.
Or at least, I am, and he’s allowing it, teaching me his body while I show him the side of me we never had time for.
He told me at the table I wasn’t prepared for how much he wanted me. Now I need him to understand the way I want.
My relationship with sex is as unbalanced as the rest of my relationships are.
Yes, I would say I prefer men to women in bed by about a ten percent margin, and no, I wouldn’t call myself kinky.
Not exactly. But I do, sort of, like to torture myself and take my partner along for the ride.
Suffering is better when you’re not the only miserable one.
The Jesus fucking Christ was because that was the fourth time I stopped him from coming. It was also the fourth time I stopped myself.
We’re both sweaty as fuck. Panting and desperate in the most agonizing way. Death by pleasure. I guarantee it’s possible. Not that death is the goal here.
I thrust fast, driving into him while he braces his palms on the headboard.
“Oh…God…you could do porn…”
“I take that as a compliment.”
“It wasn’t meant to be.” His body sags, but his hands and knees manage to hold him up. I grab him by the shoulder to give him some extra support while I slam into his ass until both his cheeks are blazing red.
“Hold me,” he says pitifully.
It’s a trick. If I grab him and pull him to my chest, I won’t be able to keep my hand off his dick. I’ll also practically be milking his prostate.
And yet, it’s not like I can say no to him.
I want to hit one more edge, but I’ll grant he might have had enough for one night.
Using the hand on his shoulder, I pull. He shoves off the headboard, and I grab him by the pec with my other hand.
I bring his back to my chest. It forces me to move slower, but he’s chasing his orgasm with ratcheting intensity, clenching on my cock and shoving my hand down to wrap around his.
I groan as what he’s doing to me yanks me right up to another edge.
Then he ends me with a kiss as his dick throbs in my hand.
He moans into my mouth until he breaks off with a whimper and a gasp.
Biting down on his shoulder, my orgasm roars through me, searing nerve endings and causing my cock to release an utterly unholy amount of cum into the condom lodged in Tristan’s tight little ass.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I groan as it goes on and on, and he doesn’t stop milking it.
“Fuck…” I might be whining now. This is payback, and it borders on painful.
“You’re done,” he says in a low but playful voice.
“So fucking done,” I agree.
“We’re gonna talk about this,” he says. “At some point. When I can make words again.”
I sit back, pulling myself out of him and getting rid of the condom before I drag him back onto my lap. I wrap my arms around his waist and rest my mouth on his cheek. “Kiss me.”
He does, turning his head just enough to give me a lingering but not deep kiss. We’re both out of breath, and I’m still half numb from how hard I just came.
When the kiss ends, he rests his head against mine for a few more deep breaths. “Can you handle it?” I ask.
“I can handle it,” he assures me.
“It won’t get any easier.”
“Nothing about this was ever going to be easy, dearest.”