Chapter Eleven #3
His fingers slide into my hair, gentle, reverent.
“But you? The soft smile, the shy eyes, the way you melt when I fucking look at you? Baby, that’s the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.”
He presses a slow kiss to my throat.
“When I call you cute, I’m not putting you below anyone.” His voice vibrates against my skin. “I’m telling you the truth: you undo me. You make me want things I have never wanted. Things I don’t say to anyone.”
My chest aches.
“I’ve never wanted to keep someone before,” he whispers. “But I look at you, and all I want to do is claim you. I want the whole damn world to know you’re mine…and I’m yours.”
He pulls back just enough to look me in the eyes. It’s dark…but I can still see the intensity of his gaze.
“So don’t let a jealous dickhead with a loud mouth scare you off,” he says softly. “I want you, Eli. In every way a man can want another man. Fucking deeper. Stronger. So fucking intense that I can’t stand seeing you hurt.”
My pulse is hammering. My face is hot. My brain is gone…evaporated, melted, dust.
And before I can stop myself…before I can think or breathe or make a single responsible decision…I blurt:
“I’m a virgin.”
Skip goes still.
Not the kind of still a person does when they’re shocked. I’m talking Predator-still.
Then…
“Fuck.”
His breath quickens before he leans down and nibbles my chin.
“Fuck me,” he groans.
He rolls off me, sits up, stands, comes back…
“Eli. Fuck.”
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I shouldn’t have just blurted that out. But, every word that came out of your mouth was so intense, and I knew I had to tell you that before I chickened out.”
He freezes again.
“Sorry?” His voice cracks like thunder. “Sorry? Baby, that’s…fucking hell. Come here.”
He doesn’t wait.
He crushes his mouth to mine.
It’s not sweet. It’s not gentle. It’s possession and hunger and pure, unfiltered Skip.
His lips dominate mine, stealing my breath, my thoughts, my sanity.
His hand cups the back of my head. His tongue sweeps past my lips like he owns the place. Not asking for entry…demanding.
He kisses me like he’s been starving for decades.
I make a sound…embarrassing, needy…and he growls into my mouth.
When he finally pulls back, I’m dizzy and wrecked and clinging to him. He presses soft kisses down my jaw. My cheek. My throat. My collarbone.
Each one gentler than the last. Like he’s apologizing with his mouth for completely dominating me with it.
Then he drags me with him as he lies back, pulling me until I’m sprawled half on his chest, half on the mattress, his arm anchored tight around me.
My cheek rests over his heart.
It’s pounding…Hard.
We’re quiet for a long time.
Eventually, I whisper, “Skip?”
“Yeah, baby?”
“…Are you naked?”
He chuckles, low and sinful.
“Naked,” he confirms. “And hard as fuck.”
My whole body flares hot.
“Go to sleep, pretty boy,” he murmurs, kissing the top of my head. “Before I do something you’re not ready for… and we’re both too tired to survive.”
Again, we fall into silence, but I can’t fall asleep. My brain won’t shut off. So, I decide to explore a little bit. I want to believe Skip’s words, but I need actions in order to believe him. But, for now, I can hope that he meant every word he said.
So, I’ll explore.
Just a little.
My fingers slip from his chest down to his stomach, brushing over firm muscle.
He shivers…just a tiny tremor.
I trail back up, feeling the warmth of his skin, the roughness of unseen scars that I hope he’ll tell me about someday, the smoothness of muscle.
When I reach his chest again, curiosity wins, and I gently touch one of his nipples.
He grunts… low… surprised… pleased?
It sends lightning through me.
I swallow hard and let my hand drift lower again…not too far, just enough to feel the sharp cut of that V-shape on his hips.
He has one…I absolutely do not.
Too many tacos.
Skip’s breathing turns uneven…controlled, but barely.
I feel powerful. Terrified. Wanted.
I lean close and brush the faintest kiss…barely a taste…against his skin.
His whole body tightens beneath me.
But when my hand inches lower, instinct slams into me like a wall.
I freeze.
Because touching him is one thing…But if I go lower…If I cross that line…He might expect me to be ready for something I’m not.
Skip feels the change instantly.
His hand comes up, covers mine, stilling me gently…not stopping me, not rejecting me, just… grounding me.
“Eli,” he whispers into the dark, voice rough and thick, “baby… breathe.”
I do. Barely.
“I’m not…” My chest tightens. “I’m not ready for… anything. Not yet.”
His fingers slide between mine, interlacing gently.
“Then we won’t do a damn thing you’re not ready for,” he says, firm, certain, unmoving.
“Ever.”
My throat closes. “But I want to touch you. I just… I don’t know how far is too far.”
He lets out a shaky laugh.
“Pretty boy,” he murmurs, pulling me up so my head rests under his chin, “you exploring me like that? That damn near ended me.”
My face burns.
“But nothing has to happen. Not tonight. Not soon. Not until you ask me, clearly, and without fear in your voice. You understand?”
I nod. Relieved…and yet…disappointed.
He presses a kiss to my temple.
“You don’t owe me anything. Not your body. Not your experience. All I want right now is you, right here, in my arms.”
The tension drains out of me so fast I nearly sag against him.
I whisper into his chest:
“Okay.”
And he holds me closer.
“Sleep, baby,” he murmurs, voice softer than I’ve ever heard it. “You’re safe. With me, you’re always safe.”
But… I can’t. I may not be ready for him, but I know he’s ready for me.
With Skip’s fingers still laced with mine, I guide both our hands downward until we meet the blunt, rigid tip of his dick, which we find pressed furiously against his stomach.
“Baby…” Skip groans, deep and strangled.
“Teach me,” I whisper, guiding our joined hands to wrap around his thick, pulsing length. “Show me what you like.”
“This,” he pants. “I like this, pretty boy.”
“Skip,” I breathe, “please… help me pleasure you.”
“Fuck,” he growls, dragging our hands up to his mouth. He spits into my palm without hesitation…filthy, primal, and so freaking sexy, then drives our hands back down, gripping himself with a roughness that makes my pulse spike.
“Don’t be gentle,” he rasps. “Fucking choke my dick.”
He shows me exactly how tight to hold him, exactly how fast to stroke, exactly where to squeeze until he’s shaking beneath me. When we reach the swollen head, my fingers brush something hard and metallic.
“Is… is that a piercing?” I ask, startled.
His chuckle vibrates straight through me as he guides my hand again, letting me feel the full curve of the jewelry.
“It’s a Prince Albert,” Skip groans.
My whole body flinches. “Doesn’t that hurt?”
“It wasn’t pleasant to get,” he murmurs. “But baby… when you’re begging me to fuck you? You’ll be thanking me for this piercing. It’s going to make you come so hard, you’ll forget your own name.”
His dick twitches violently in our grip.
“The thought alone is enough to kill me. Now, hold your hand right there, pretty boy. I’m gonna fuck it.”
I stay exactly where he puts me, his hand cupping the other side of his shaft so he’s caged tight between us. His breathing turns ragged, desperate as he thrusts his hips.
“Now kiss me,” he orders.
I lean in and give him a soft kiss, but Skip isn’t having softness. He drags me down by the back of the head and devours my mouth, tongue fucking my mouth just as his dick fucks into our hands. It’s messy, frantic, and overwhelming.
I don’t know how long it lasts. However long it is, it’s not long enough.
Suddenly, Skip grunts, low and brutal, and heat splashes across my neck, chin, and cheek.
“Fuck,” he groans. “I should’ve turned the lights on. I want to see my mark on your skin.”
My lips throb from the assault. My dick’s harder than it has ever been, and my whole body trembles as his hand moves up, fingers spreading his release across my skin like he’s claiming me inch by inch.
Then he cups my jaw gently…so gently…and rubs his thumb across my swollen lips.
“Lick them,” he whispers. “Taste how sexy you fucking are. Taste what you did to me. Taste me, Eli.”
And of course… I do.
And, oh, help me, he tastes good.
Skip inhales sharply. “I can feel your need, baby.”
I shake my head weakly. “I’m not ready,” I whisper. “No one’s ever touched me before. I need to make sure my body can handle it.”
“How does your body react when you pleasure yourself?” he asks, voice low with curiosity but gentle. “Do you ever faint?”
My face burns. “I don’t know. I’ve never… allowed myself to do that.”
Everything goes still.
Skip doesn’t breathe. He doesn’t so much as move for a full five seconds.
“Are you telling me…” he says slowly, “that you’ve never had an orgasm before?”
“I’ve been too afraid,” I admit. “I know that when my body shuts down that I’m usually back up in less than a minute. But, what if the intensity of it is so massive that something different happens?”
“Do people with your condition have sex?”
“Yeah,” I say. “But for people who have severe cases like mine, it’s common for an episode to happen right after orgasm.”
I take a deep breath and try to explain the best way I can.
“I’m about to get real nerdy on you,” I say.
“So, buckle up. Okay, think of it like this. During orgasm, the body’s senses are heightened, and everything switches into overdrive.
That’s the sympathetic system…or the gas pedal.
Heart racing, adrenaline pumping, nerves firing like crazy.
” Skip’s fingers trace slow circles on my lower back, grounding me.
He doesn’t interrupt, which somehow makes this harder and easier at the same time. I take a breath and keep going.
“But right after that high point, the body hits the parasympathetic phase…or, the brake. It’s supposed to calm you down. For most people, it’s gentle. Normal. But for me? My brake slams hard. Too hard. My blood pressure drops too fast, and my brain basically says, ‘Nope,’ and shuts off.”
My voice cracks a little, but I force myself to keep talking.
“That’s why I’ve never… you know. I’ve never let myself get close to that point. I’m scared. Because losing consciousness in the middle of something that’s supposed to be good? That just sounds humiliating. And dangerous.”
Skip’s hand moves up my spine. I breathe against his chest, the dark room wrapping around us like a blanket.
“I’ve seen you pass out,” Skip murmurs, voice low and steady, like he’s talking straight into the parts of me that never calm. “I know your body crashes sometimes.”
“I know.” My fingers curl against his chest. “But that’s different. That’s me fainting because I’m scared or stressed, or I forgot to eat. This would be… I don’t know. More personal. More intense. And I’m terrified of waking up disoriented. Or hurting myself. Or…”
My voice shakes.
“It’s why I’ve never even considered having sex with someone,” I whisper. “Especially not a hookup. What if I passed out with some random guy? What could’ve happened to me while I was unconscious?”
Skip goes still beneath me before pressing a slow kiss to the top of my head.
“Thank you, pretty boy,” he whispers. “Thank you for being so damn smart. For keeping yourself safe for me until I found you.”
His hand slides up my spine, warm and steady.
“When you’re ready,” Skip says softly, “I’ll be with you the whole time. If your body has an episode, I’ll be right there when you go under and right there when you come back to me. You won’t ever wake up alone or scared again. Not with me.”
A tear slips from my eye and lands on his chest.
I want to believe him. God, I want to. But some part of me still can’t understand how he doesn’t see the difference between us…the gorgeous, terrifying biker… and me.
“In time, baby,” he whispers, which tells me I spoke my thoughts out loud. “I know my words don’t feel solid yet. But I’ll prove them. Every damn day until you trust them as much as I do. Now shut those beautiful brown eyes and sleep.”
I smile in the dark and close my eyes, letting his warmth settle around me. Sleep tugs at my mind… but I’ve got one last, very important, thing to say, first.
“If we’re stuck down here long enough to watch all of the DVDs,” I mumble, half-asleep, “we might have to start reenacting TV shows. I’m calling dibs on Sam Winchester.”
Skip snorts. “I have no choice but to be Dean. We’re practically twins.”
My eyes snap open.
“Oh…no. No, Skip. They’re brothers. We can’t be brothers. People frown on things like that.”
Skip laughs, low and sinful, way too amused.
“Baby,” he murmurs, sliding his hand up my back, “the whole world would love to watch those two brothers fuck.”
Yeah…he’s right.
Skip presses a soft kiss to my hair. “Now sleep, Eli. Before we test that theory of yours about orgasms making you pass out. At least then you’d get some damn rest.”
My dick twitches at his words, and I forget how to breathe for a few seconds.
Skip chuckles in that dark, smug way that should be illegal.
“Hmmm,” he purrs, “I think my baby likes that idea.”
I squeak, face on fire. “You’re a jerk.”
“Uh-huh,” he says, totally unbothered. “A jerk you’re falling asleep on.”
I nuzzle closer without meaning to, my voice barely hanging onto consciousness as I mutter…
“Still a jerk.”
Skip’s arms tighten around me, warm and protective.
“Sleep, pretty boy.”
And I finally do.