Chapter Fifteen #2
“Fuck…” he groans, licking the corner of my lips. “So fucking sweet. Open for me, baby. Let me in.”
Skip nips at my lower lip…sharp enough to sting, soft enough to make my knees wobble…and my gasp is all the invitation he needs. His tongue slides in, hot and commanding.
I try to kiss him back with the same intensity. To match him. To hold my ground. But Skip just chuckles, low and sinful, and threads his fingers into my hair.
He tilts my head exactly how he wants it and kisses me deeper…so deep I feel it in my spine.
“Trying to top from the bottom, pretty boy?” he murmurs against my lips, his free hand sliding slowly, deliberately, up my chest until his palm is resting right over my throat.
Not squeezing. Just holding. Claiming.
My breath hitches. His eyes darken.
“Careful,” he whispers, thumb brushing the side of my neck. “You keep that up, and I’m gonna forget about stages and take you apart right here.”
A full-body shiver rolls through me so hard I practically melt into him.
He smirks like he felt it. Because of course he did.
“Mm,” he hums, lips grazing my jaw as he presses me firmer against the wall. “That’s my boy.”
He fists my shirt and spins us in one smooth, practiced motion. Suddenly, he’s walking forward, and I’m forced to stumble backward with him, caged by nothing but the weight of his stare.
“As a precaution,” he says, voice thick with intent, “when I take your first orgasm… I want you sitting down. In case your body shuts down.”
My mouth opens…absolutely nothing comes out.
Speech? Gone. Memory of language? Deleted. Motor functions? Barely hanging on.
My legs hit the couch, but his hands clamp around my hips, keeping me upright.
Eyes locked on mine, Skip reaches down, unbuttons my pants, and slides both my jeans and briefs down in one confident tug.
He never looks away. Not once.
Not even when his hand wraps around my cock. Or when he strokes me slowly and deliberately.
He’s reading me.
Satisfied with whatever he sees, he presses gently on my hips until I drop onto the couch.
Then he drops to his knees.
“Wow,” I gasp. “That was very hot.”
“Thank you, baby,” he smirks. “Just wait until you see me naked.”
He winks. “Full lighting this time.”
“Probably shouldn’t let that happen,” I pant as he leans in, his breath ghosting over the head of my leaking cock. “I don’t think I’d survive it.”
“Probably not,” he agrees easily. “I am very sexy.”
His smirk is lethal.
“Now,” he murmurs, thumb brushing my thigh, “close those beautiful lips so I can focus on my new favorite toy.”
My brain barely processes the command before he swallows me whole.
The world tilts. The ceiling vanishes. My breath forgets how to exist. My hands fly to his hair on instinct…because I need something to hold on to if I’m going to survive this man.
Skip hums around me like he’s enjoying dessert.
And I…I forget…I just…forget.
Every thought slips right out of my head. Some tiny, rational corner of my brain tries to check on my body. Is this safe? Is this a spell?...but everything feels fine.
“So good,” I breathe, barely able to form words. “I feel… fine.”
Skip chuckles around my cock, and the vibration nearly sends me into orbit.
“Skip,” I pant. “I think I’m having a panic attack.”
He pulls off with a soft pop and smirks up at me, eyes dark and knowing.
“Your heart’s racing?”
I nod vigorously.
“There’s a knot… building low in your stomach? Pressure you can’t get rid of?”
Another nod. Harder this time.
“Not a panic attack, baby.” His voice drops to a sinful rumble. “Now let that feeling take over. Let it overwhelm you, Eli. Don’t fight it… let it own you.”
Then he’s on me again…mouth, tongue, hand…every part of him dragging me deeper. The pressure I thought I’d gotten under control surges back with brutal intensity.
“That’s it,” he whispers against my skin, stroking me roughly. “Good boy. Now come for me, baby. Let me taste you.”
He, once again, swallows me whole.
And I explode.
Not gently. Not gracefully. I detonate.
Wave after wave slams through me until I’m limp, boneless, and floating. My body feels like it finally understands the meaning of the word alive.
“Wow,” I breathe, dazed and glowing as Skip peppers kisses on my thighs, his hands sliding under my shirt and caressing my skin. “That was… wow.”
“Fucking delicious,” Skip murmurs, leaning up to kiss me, slow and deep.
I taste myself on his lips, and instead of being weirded out…I lean into it.
Into him. Into us.
“Hey,” I grin, breathless. “I didn’t pass out.”
He just softly smiles at me and stays exactly where he is on his knees.
Then, as my head finally begins to calm down from my orgasm…it hits me.
The buzzing. The warning heat in my spine. The black floaters drifting in at the edges of my vision.
Crap.
“Going down,” I try to warn him, but the words come out twisted.
Skip doesn’t panic. He doesn’t even blink.
“I got you, baby,” he says, voice steady and warm as the tunnel closes in. “You’re safe, Eli.”
I feel him guide my head back onto the couch cushion. Feel the gentle kiss he presses to my cheek. Feel the smile that curves against my skin.
He isn’t scared. He isn’t disturbed. He expected this.
Hell… he seems proud to be the cause of it.
My last thought before the darkness wraps around me is simple, obvious, and very terrifying.
I think I might love this wild, crazy man.
***Skip***
I smile down at Eli as his body reboots itself, the faint rise and fall of his chest settling into that soft, steady rhythm I’m already addicted to.
I knew this would happen.
After he warned me what might go down when he orgasmed, I spent half the damn night doing more research on Reflex Syncope like I was cramming for a medical exam.
And according to every source I found? A man with a case as severe as Eli’s was guaranteed to pass out after the high dropped.
So, him knocking out on my couch? Perfectly expected. Perfectly normal.
And absolutely nothing to be afraid of.
I brush my fingers through his short hair and grin to myself.
Because now that I understand exactly how his body works, I also understand how to work around it.
And I fully intend to.
When I finally have him beneath me…when I’m buried so deep inside that sweet body he won’t know where he ends, and I begin…I already have the solution lined up for how to keep him awake.
Keep his adrenaline high. Keep his pulse racing. Don’t let that “parasympathetic brake” slam down.
Which means?
I am going to edge this man within an inch of sanity.
A slowly…deeply…drawn-out form of torture.
I’ll keep him hovering, shaking, begging. So keyed-up that his heart won’t dare slow down enough to drop him.
And when we’re both drenched in sweat, when my entire body is fighting not to spill inside him?
That’s when I’ll take us both over the edge.
Together.
He’ll come with me in an explosion so intense that neither one of us will be able to see or hear for several moments.
And when he passes out after I’ve filled him, I’ll just hold him until he comes back to me.
Because that’s what you do with the person you love.
And this man? This pretty boy?
I fucking love him with everything I am.
“Did I die?” Eli croaks as his eyes flutter open, blinking like he’s surfacing from a dream.
“Only of pleasure,” I grin, helping him sit up slowly. “Come on, baby. Let’s get that head cleared. We’re going on a date.”
“Right now?” he squeaks. “I thought we were… y’know… laying low because of that cartel?”
“We have eyes on Cortéz,” I assure him. “Spike already cleared it. We’ll have a few men trailing us, just in case, but we’re getting out of here for a few hours.”
I hand him a bottle of water with an electrolyte packet already mixed in and five saltine crackers.
“This,” I say, tapping the bottle, “helps your body recover faster after an episode. Drink up, baby. We’re going for steak.”
His eyes go glassy with tears, but I don’t mind them. They aren’t made of sadness or pain. Those are tears of pure happiness.
“Love you, baby,” I murmur, lifting his hand and kissing the inside of his wrist.
He swallows hard.
“Yeah,” he whispers. “I’m… starting to see that.”
Then he gives me a little laugh, shaking his head like he can’t believe it.
“And I realized,” he adds, “as I was slowly dying from post-coital release… that I love you too.”
“Post-coital release?” I bark out a laugh. “Oh, I’m absolutely using that the next time Spike walks in with that ‘I just got pussy’ face.”
Eli chuckles, nibbling a cracker.
Damn, he’s adorable.
“Told you you’d fall in love with me,” I smirk. “It was undeniable. I’m just too fucking awesome.”
“Not to stroke your ego or anything,” he says, rolling his eyes, “but… yeah. You really are.”
“Wait until you see what I can do with my dick,” I wink. “We gotta get your ass ready for me, baby. Stage three is gonna happen a hell of a lot sooner than planned.”
His face goes red as a sunset, and I laugh.
“Now come on,” I say, pulling him carefully to his feet. I wait until I’m sure he’s steady before moving. “We’re taking my truck. No way I’m putting you on my bike when you just rebooted.”
“Rebooted?” he laughs. “I kinda like that.”
I lean down and kiss the top of his head.
He’s a head shorter than me. He fits under my chin perfectly. And I’m a dead man for how much I love it.
“Let’s go, shorty,” I say, slinging an arm around him. “I’m starving.”
***Eli***
At first, I was terrified Skip was going to take me to some fancy sit-down restaurant. The kind of place I do not belong in.
But instead, he drives us to a bar with the best wings this side of the Valley.
A place I’ve actually eaten at before. A place where nobody looks twice at a guy like me.
“I thought you wanted steak?” I ask as we wait for our food.
“Well,” he shrugs, leaning back in the booth, “on the way here, I remembered that Tank’s grilled steaks are the best that have ever existed. So why waste my taste buds on mediocre meat when I can get perfection whenever I want?”