Chapter Fifteen #2
“Fuck,” he groans. His hips rock forward, his swollen cock grinding against mine. The friction drives me half out of my mind. I want to drag my underwear off so I can feel him against me, hot skin against mine, but I can’t bring myself to stop kissing him, touching him.
Finally, I stop long enough to grab the lube from next to me on the bed. Dylan stops kissing me, watching me while I slick my fingers.
“Okay?” My voice sounds deep and rough even to me.
He swallows and nods, then he’s kissing me again. Hot nibbling kisses along my jawline, teeth tugging my earlobe. I grip one of his ass cheeks, then circle his hole with my lubed finger.
I tease and rub before pressing my finger inside him. He whimpers and shudders, tucking his head under my chin, while he sucks and bites along my collarbone.
My body feels like an exposed nerve ending, a live wire shooting sparks and ready to catch fire. I slowly work him open, hyper-aware of everything he does, his every breath, moan, shiver as if they’re moving through me and our bodies are entwined.
I add a second finger, pumping in and out of him, scissoring him open.
“Holy shit,” he whispers against my neck.
“Too much?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “I want you inside me.” He pushes back against my fingers. “I want to feel you fucking me.”
Then he’s pulling off my fingers and leaning back. He grips the waistband of my underwear and pulls them down over my hips.
My cock bounces free, precum dripping from the slit. I don’t think I’ve ever been this hard before, or desperate to be inside anyone like I am for Dylan. Like I’ve always been for Dylan.
He grabs a condom from where he tossed them onto the bed, rips open the packet, then grips my cock.
The feel of his hot hand wrapped around me nearly sends me over the edge. I’m so desperate for him, I don’t know how the fuck I’m going to last, but I’m willing to give it my best shot.
He starts to roll the condom down my erection, his gaze transfixed on the latex sheathing my dick.
“You know, I’m not an invalid. I could put on a condom.”
“I know you can.” He looks up at me and grins, and something pulls tight in my chest. “But I like doing it for you.”
He gives me a quick kiss, then positions my cock against his opening and slowly sinks down onto me.
The feeling of him, hot and clenched around me, makes my eyes roll back in my head. I grip his hips and fight the urge to thrust up and slam into him. Instead, I let him set the pace. The last thing I want is to hurt him, after all.
His eyes are closed, brows furrowed in consternation. Sweat drips down his back.
“Are you okay? Is it too much?” I ask him.
He shakes his head. “No, it’s good. So good. Just been a while. I got to go slow.”
“Go as slow as you need to,” I tell him, losing myself to the exquisite torture of his body enveloping mine.
Once he’s fully seated, he groans, then leans forward and kisses me. I stay still, letting him adjust. Finally, he starts to move, riding me slowly at first, then gaining speed, while I tremble beneath him, lost in the sensation of his ass moving up and down my cock.
“Please,” he gasps. “Oh god, please. Fuck me.”
That’s all the invitation I need. I thrust up into him, matching the pace he set, but I know I won’t last much longer. He feels too good; everything about him, his taste, the feel of his skin, his tight ass around my dick.
I grab his hard cock and stroke him while I fuck him. His whole body trembles, and he’s losing his rhythm. He’s close.
“Shit, oh shit!” He comes across my stomach and chest.
I grab onto his hips and fuck into him hard and fast until I follow him over the edge.
“Holy shit,” he whispers and collapses against my chest. I hold him tightly, absently stroking my fingers through his hair while I catch my breath.
I wholeheartedly agree with the sentiment and might have told him so if I could work up the energy to speak.
After a few minutes, he eases off me and rolls onto his back.
“I’m really glad you decided to pick up dinner,” I tell him, looking up at the ceiling and smirking.
He chuckles beside me. “You and me both, believe me.”
Finally, I work up the energy to roll off the bed and make my way into the bathroom, cleaning up my chest and stomach. I bring out a warm, wet washcloth and do the same for Dylan.
“Thanks,” he murmurs. His eyes are barely open. “I don’t think I could have worked up the energy to do that myself.”
“Well, you did do most of the work.”
He grins; his eyes are closing. “So nice of you to notice.”
By the time I dispose of the washcloth, make sure the door is locked and switch off the lights, Dylan is out.
I climb into bed beside him, throw my arm over his middle and drag him against me so his back is pressed against my chest, and I can press a soft kiss to the back of his head.
But while Dylan is sound asleep, I’m wide awake, spiraling quietly in the darkness. What in the hell just happened?
I don’t have an answer; all I know is I just had the best sex I’ve had in years. And great sex aside, no matter how I try to pretend otherwise, I don’t want to let Dylan go.
What we just did was so much better than when we were teenagers. Then, we were clumsy and unsure, exploring each other and our sexualities. Now, I know exactly what I want, and it’s Dylan.
But that isn’t an option.
I roll away from him, get out of bed, pull my underwear on, and duck into the bathroom. After I close the door, I click on the light and stare at myself in the mirror.
My hair is wild, and there’s a dark hickey forming just under my collarbone. Seeing Dylan’s mark on me sends a small thrill through me.
I can’t think this way. I have to remember there’s no future with Dylan. This is just sex, but I know that’s not true. The longer I’m with Dylan, the more I feel for him. I know I’m making a huge mistake, but I can’t help it.
The unmistakable clink of a key turning in the lock cuts through the quiet, followed by the slow creak of the door opening.