Chapter 7
CHAPTER 7
Bell’s expression didn’t immediately change, but then something flickered behind his eyes. His shoulders drew back as if pulled by invisible strings, and his lips parted silently. He blinked, his chest stilling mid-breath, as if my confession had knocked the air from his lungs.
Shock .
That’s what his reaction was.
He hadn’t known. Not really.
He had to have at least suspected, though. If he’d thought I was straight, he wouldn’t have said those things to me. Bell was a hell of a lot of things, but he wasn’t stupid.
His throat bobbed on a deep swallow. “No, Ethan,” he said hoarsely. “That’s not what this is. Not at all.”
“No?” I took another step forward, until I was crowding him. Close enough to see the flicker of uncertainty flash in his gaze.
“Say something,” I demanded, my voice rough. “Tell me what this is then, goddamnit.”
Bell’s throat worked like he was trying to find the words, but nothing came out of his mouth. His hands curled into fists against the mattress, his eyes flicking back and forth between mine. His gaze probing, questioning.
I didn’t know how I expected him to answer.
I didn’t even know what I wanted him to say.
All I knew was that if he kept looking at me like this—like he could see right through me, like he knew every damn thing I’d spent my entire life trying so fucking hard to bury—I was going to lose it.
Hell, I was already losing it.
Before I knew what I was doing, I lurched forward, stepping between his spread legs, and twisted my hands into his shirt. When he didn’t fight me, didn’t so much as flinch, I hauled him closer and crashed my mouth down against his.
He froze, his lips completely still against mine.
A heartbeat passed.
And another.
Then, with a rough, broken sound that tore from somewhere deep in his chest, he kissed me back.
It wasn’t careful, and it certainly wasn’t sweet.
It was a violent, desperate meeting of mouths, all teeth and heat and need.
His hands scrambled for purchase, fisting in the front of my shirt and hauling me closer until there wasn’t a sliver of space left between us.
He tasted like want and need and every damn desire I’d spent years bottling up. I chased the taste greedily, angling my head to deepen the kiss, gasping when he met me with just as much hunger.
I let go of his shirt long enough to bury my hands in his hair—so soft and thick—and tugged hard enough to pull a groan from him.
Jesus. That sound.
It hit me hard, shooting straight through my gut to my dick and setting every nerve ending I had on fire.
Bell’s mouth parted on a gasp, and I took full advantage of the opening, sliding my tongue against his in a kiss that felt less and less like a choice and more like a fucking inevitability.
He tipped backward, sprawling onto the mattress and dragging me down with him.
The hard ridge of his dick pressed against my thigh, making my whole body jerk with raw, electric need.
I tore my mouth from his with a loud groan, my breath coming in heaving pants. I rested my forehead against his as I tried—and failed—to catch my breath.
One of my hands slid from his hair, trailing down the side of his neck, his chest, lower still, until I was clutching his hip like I needed something to hold onto.
I pulled back a few inches to stare down at him, this beautiful fucking guy who’d completely annihilated me. His eyes were wild, his pupils eating up the blue of his irises, his chest heaving under me.
“Ethan,” he rasped, his voice wrecked. His hands flexed against my sides, like he hadn’t decided whether to pull me back in for another kiss or push me away.
Please don’t push me away , I thought desperately, my hips rolling against his as if moving of their own volition.
My whole body shuddered at the contact—the hard, aching press of my dick against his thigh, the friction from my clothes against my skin causing a jolt of pleasure so sharp it was almost painful.
It lit me up from the inside out, but it still wasn’t nearly enough. All the raw, desperate parts of me that had been starved for too long needed more.
Needed him.
I moaned, my fingers digging into his hips like I could somehow anchor myself there, like holding him would keep me from coming apart completely.
Bell made a broken noise—half gasp, half groan—and his hands slid lower, cupping my ass in his wide palms. He flexed his fingers into the meat of my muscles, gripping me hard, and he rocked his hips up in a slow, filthy grind that knocked the breath clean out of my lungs.
“Fuck,” I gasped, my voice raw and needy. “Do that again.”
Bell’s eyes fluttered shut for half a second, like he was trying to get control of himself. Then he complied, pressing up against me. “Ethan.” My name on his lips sounded like a plea.
Like a benediction.
Something inside me snapped. I fumbled for his belt, desperate to get my hands on him. My fingers were clumsy as I popped the button on his slacks, yanked down the zipper, and slid my hand inside to palm the hard line of him through his boxer briefs.
His hand closed over mine. “Ethan,” he said roughly, his breath coming in harsh, uneven pants. “Is this really what you want?”
For a brief second, his words floated between us, until something wild and reckless tore out of me—a sharp laugh that startled both of us.
I leaned in close and whispered against his mouth, my tongue snaking out to lick over the seam of his lips. “I’ve wanted you since the first time I saw you.”
He didn’t need to know that was three years ago. That the night the Aces drafted him, I’d taken my dick in hand and blew my load all over my chest, imagining all the ways I wanted to ruin him.
All the ways I wanted him to ruin me, too.
“I want you,” I said, my voice dropping into a deep rasp. “I want to taste you. I want to choke on your cock, and I want you to come down my fucking throat.”
Bell’s body jerked under me. His fingers flexed against my hand like he was fighting a war with himself and losing.
The air between us was molten, charged with a tension so thick I could barely breathe.
Then his voice—low and wrecked and commanding—cut through the haze as he pushed lightly against my shoulder. “Then get on your knees.” His hand slid up into my hair and gave a gentle but insistent tug. “Pull out my cock and show me exactly how bad you want it.”
The words had barely left his mouth before I was sliding off the bed, my knees hitting the carpet with a muted thud .
I looked up at Bell—standing now, his chest heaving, his hair a rumpled mess from where I’d gripped it, his lips swollen from our kisses, and his cheek slightly red from the burn of my beard. His hands rested loosely at his sides, but I could see the tension running through him, the way he was holding himself still, waiting for me.
I brushed my palm against the hard line of his dick straining against his open slacks. He didn’t move or make a sound. Just let me have this moment.
I swallowed past the lump of gratitude forming in my throat. “Can I?”
He nodded. “Take what you need.”
I tugged at his waistband and peeled his clothes down just enough to free him.
My mouth went dry.
Jesus Christ .
Thick and flushed and leaking at the tip, his dick was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. My stomach flipped, a sharp punch of want hitting me hard.
I wrapped a hand around him, gripping him tight and marveling at the heat of his skin, silk over hard iron.
He twitched against my palm, a hiss slipping from between his lips. Bell’s hand threaded into my hair, his grip firm but careful. “Suck it,” he rasped.
I leaned in and flicked my tongue against him, tasting salt and musk and something thicker, darker. The scent of him, that damn spicy cologne that drove me wild, surrounded me, curled inside my head until it was the only thing I could breathe.
Bell let out a ragged breath, his fingers tightening in my hair, but otherwise, he managed to stay completely still, letting me set the pace.
I opened wider and sank down over him, the stretch making my jaw ache, but I welcomed it. I wanted the ache. I needed to feel it. It had been more than four years since I’d done this, and I needed to wake up tomorrow and know that it had been real.
That I hadn’t imagined this moment the way I’d imagined so many others.
My own dick throbbed painfully against the front of my slacks. My hips punched forward in instinctive, broken jerks, the friction almost unbearable with how sensitive I was.
When I sucked on his tip, Bell made a choked sound that spurred me on, heat crashing through me in dizzying waves.
I hollowed my cheeks and sank deeper, desperate to taste more of him, to lose myself completely in this moment.
“Fuck, Ethan,” he breathed, his voice wrecked and reverent all at once, the sound of it dragging across my skin like a rough caress. “Look at how beautiful you are with your lips wrapped around my cock.”
His fingers flexed in my hair, a touch that sent a full-body shiver racing through me.
“That’s it,” he murmured. “Just like that.”
He gave a gentle push on the back of my head, not forcing but guiding, and I let him.
Let him set a slow, deliberate rhythm as he began to fuck my mouth with careful, shallow thrusts.
I groaned around him, and I heard Bell’s breath catch as his hand stroked once more through my hair, almost tenderly.
“You feel so good,” he praised, his hips rocking into my mouth. “I’ve imagined this so many times, but it was never like this. Never this good.”
I opened wider, relaxing my throat, desperate for more. I didn’t care that my jaw hurt or that my knees were beginning to throb. I would have stayed down on this floor forever if it meant having him like this.
Bell let out a strangled sound, low and filthy, and I found myself echoing it back to him as his thrusts became deeper, a little rougher.
Slick, obscene sounds filled the room, and I could feel thick spit seeping from the corners of my mouth and dribbling down my chin. I should have been embarrassed by how debauched I must look, but I couldn’t find it in myself to care.
I wanted this more than I wanted my next breath.
I let go of his dick and slid my hands around his hips, anchored them in the meat of his cheeks and pulling him roughly forward until he was so far down my throat that I gagged on him. I held him there for as long as I could manage, running my tongue along the underside of his dick until I couldn’t breathe. With a gasp, I yanked off him, sucked in a lungful of air, and then immediately swallowed him down again.
My dick continued to throb, begging for freedom. For attention. Every instinct I had screamed for friction, for release, but I didn’t dare take my hands off this beautiful, wonderful man who was giving me exactly what I asked for.
What I needed.
Bell’s hand slid from my hair, and his thumb swiped across the spit leaking from my mouth. The touch was so gentle it made my whole chest ache.
I moaned again, lost in the rhythm he set, the hard, devastating thrusts that had my whole body tightening, shaking with the effort not to come.
Above me, his breathing grew harsher, more uneven, and the snap of his hips lost their perfect rhythm.
He was close. So fucking close.
And so was I.
“Take it,” he groaned, the words guttural and desperate. “Show me how much you need my cum.”
I hummed around him—whined, really—my hips punching forward desperately again and again as I buried my nose in the short blond curls at the base of his dick.
“You need my load, Ethan?” he bit out.
I lifted leaking eyes up to his and nodded, just a slight lift of my head to give him consent.
Bell cursed sharply, his hips punched forward a few more times, and then his dick jerked against my tongue as he spilled down my throat.
I swallowed greedily, the taste of him thick and salty and a little bitter, hitting my tongue and making my whole body tighten.
“So good,” he rasped as his hips stilled, his large, calloused palm rubbing over my cheek so tenderly.
That was it—the dam broke.
Pleasure detonated through me, wild and brutal. I whimpered around him, my cock jerking helplessly in my pants as I came, hot and messy, and soaking through my clothes. My fingers spasmed against his thigh, scrabbling for something to hold onto, something to anchor me.
White noise roared in my ears, drowning out everything except the harsh sound of Bell’s breathing and the blood rushing hot and wild through my veins.
His cock slipped from my mouth, slick and spent, and I collapsed forward against him, boneless and trembling.
Bell cradled the back of my head, stroking slow, soothing circles through my hair.
I wasn’t sure how long we stayed like that—me clinging to him, him holding me together—but eventually, he tugged gently on my hair.
I tilted my head back, blinking through the watery blur in my eyes, and found him staring down at me. His face was so open, so fucking tender, that it broke something deep inside of me.
“Ethan,” he breathed, his thumb brushing sweetly across my cheek before he brought it to his mouth and sucked it between his plush, pink lips.
That was when I realized I was crying.