Chapter 23
Silas
The limo dropped Bryson and me off at his place, then carried on down the street to deliver the rest of the party. Christian had sent me a dirty look as we left the car.
“I don’t think your ex likes me much,” I said as we stumbled up the porch steps to the boarding house.
Bryson steadied me with an arm around my waist. “That’s because he watched me drool over you all night.”
I scoffed. “Pretty sure I was drooling.”
“Mutual drool.”
I snickered, finding that ridiculous and charming. Somehow, laughing led to kissing. I fell against the exterior wall next to the door, pulling Bryson closer. I wanted him inside me again. I broke for breath. “Fuck me, Bry! Please.”
“Shhh!” He laughed. “We’re going to wake the whole house.”
I lowered my voice. “I want you inside me again.”
He cupped my face and kissed me again. “Fuck yes. Anything you want. I’m vers. You can fuck me too.”
My heart lurched. I hadn’t topped for a while, but I loved it when I did. “Yeah?” I slipped my hands down to squeeze his ass. “I’d be down for that sometime.”
He turned to unlock the front door. “We’ve got to be quiet. I don’t want to wake anyone.”
I nodded and pantomimed zipping my lips. I was drunk, but I wasn’t obnoxious.
He got us inside, relocked the door, and led me up the stairs. We had to stop a couple of times to kiss—both of us too desperate to wait.
When we got to his room, I headed for the bed, shedding clothes as I went.
“I’ll get some water and ibuprofen,” he said.
“Glad I’m spending the night,” I said, voice muffled as I pulled my shirt over my head, too impatient to unbutton it fully. For once, I didn’t care about my clothes. I tossed them on the floor and slid beneath the sheets.
The water was running in the kitchenette. A moment later, the bed dipped and Bryson handed me the glass. “Drink up, babe.”
I propped myself on one elbow to guzzle the water and then fell back against my pillows. “Get out of those clothes. I’ve got needs.”
He laughed. “Okay, give me a minute.”
I closed my eyes—just resting them—while Bryson stripped down and crawled into bed beside me. He wrapped an arm around me, lips brushing my forehead.
“Hey, Silas?”
“Hm?”
“Maybe we should just sleep.”
I sighed, a protest on my lips, but the words eluded me. Darkness swept in, fast and total, and I was out like a light.
I woke late the next morning to the gentle sensation of lips against my shoulder. I stretched, and a hard cock prodded the back of my thigh.
I glanced over my shoulder to see Bryson blinking at me through bleary eyes. “Mornin’, sleepyhead,” he said.
“Hey. What time is—oh.”
Bryson slid his hand down my chest and wrapped his fingers around my morning wood. My breath caught as my cock went fully hard.
“You still want me?” he asked in my ear.
I pressed my ass back against him. “Yes.”
“Good.” He stroked my dick a few times, getting me good and hot for him, while he dipped his head to nibble the side of my neck.
Goosebumps rushed over my flesh. I craned my head to the side, giving him more access. He released my cock, sliding his hand up to twist my nipple.
I made a needy noise, but he rolled away from me. “Gotta grab some supplies.”
Arousal was burning through me. “Hurry.”
A drawer rattled open, followed by some riffling noises. The snick of a lube cap. The sounds only fired my anticipation more.
He rolled back, his bed-warmed body pressing against my back and ass.
“Lift your leg.” He shifted his right leg between mine, giving me a place to rest my thigh, and spread me open. Cool, slippery lube slid through my crack and circled my rim.
I bit my bottom lip, my hole clenching.
“Relax for me,” he murmured.
This wasn’t the first time he’d fucked me. But something about it seemed different. My heart kept fluttering, and emotion threatened to overcome me.
“Need you inside me,” I said, practically begging.
“Shh. I’m here.” Two slick fingers pressed into me, stretching my rim. I blew out a breath, relaxing, so he could push them deeper. “There you go. Just let me in.”
He pumped his fingers, scissored them to stretch me, then added a third. He stroked my prostate, making me twitch, then withdrew.
“Ready for me?”
“Been ready,” I snarked.
He chuckled, his breath tickling my throat. “Sorry to make you wait, darlin’. I’ll do my best to make up for it.”
“Just hur—”
He pushed in.
My words dried on my tongue as I sucked in a sharp breath. There was the exquisite burn my brain knew would soon turn to pleasure.
He slipped his free hand over my waist to fist my dick, and I moaned and arched.
“Your nipples look so hard and needy,” Bryson said into my ear. “Why don’t you give them some love?”
I raised my hand to pluck and tug at my nipples while he rocked deeper into my ass, filling me to the brim, and stroked my cock with a slippery hand.
It was too much sensation. I wasn’t going to last.
Just as I neared the edge, he released my cock—making me groan with frustration—and grabbed my jaw to guide me into a sloppy kiss.
His tongue swept in, hot and slick. He bucked his hips, fucking me harder. I gasped for breath and reached for my dick. He caught my wrist. “Wait, darlin’. Let it come to you.”
“What?” I protested.
“Want to make you come with my cock.”
“I don’t know if I can do that.”
“Just try,” he suggested, guiding my hand back to my chest.
With a huff, I tugged and pulled on my nipples, taking my frustration out on my body while my cock throbbed with need. The tension continued to build, making me feel as if my cock would split open soon.
Bryson changed his angle, nailing my prostate. He did it again.
I cried out sharply, shocked as my orgasm crashed into me.
I spilled without a hand on my dick, my ass pulsating around Bryson’s dick as he ground against my prostate unrelentingly.
“Bry, fuck—”
“So good,” he rasped, shuddering, as he suddenly came too.
My cock kept spilling, pleasure rising and overflowing like a wellspring. He caressed my outer thigh, rubbing gently, as I quivered with aftershocks.
“How was that?” he murmured. “Good?”
I turned my head to kiss him again, suddenly grateful for a man who’d take the extra time to give me as much pleasure as possible. I could have come easily from my hand or his, but he’d wanted me to experience it deep inside, too.
“I’ve never done that before,” I said.
He brushed my hair out of my eyes. “Was it good?”
I shivered with another aftershock. “Incredible.”
“Good.” He kissed my forehead. “I want you to experience every pleasure possible with me. I want to give you everything, Silas.”
It was all too much. The sex, the love in his eyes, the knowledge that he had another man who would gladly snap him up. My throat grew tight, and I turned away. “I should get dressed. Big day and all!”
“Yeah, me too. I’m already late to meet the guys for brunch.” He withdrew from me slowly, as if reluctant to leave my body. “I’m going to keep my brother distracted leading up to the wedding. You could join us?”
“I can’t,” I said truthfully. “I’ll be running around like a mad man all day to make sure Branson and Caitlyn get their perfect day.”
He pressed a kiss to my shoulder blade. “Okay, you’re the wedding MVP, so I better let you get on with it. You can have the first shower while I make some much-needed coffee. Just save me some hot water.”
“If you save me some of that coffee.”
He squeezed my hip. “Deal. Go before I’m tempted to join you in there. Then neither of us will ever get anywhere.”
I laughed and scurried into the bathroom. If we lived together, is this how it would be—discussing our plans for the day, coordinating our morning routine around each other, sharing coffee and warning each other not to use all the hot water?
I couldn’t lie. It was a nice dream. Just like the fairy tales I’d stopped believing in. So why did my heart quicken at the thought that maybe the happy ending wasn’t as out of reach as I’d always thought?