CHAPTER 22
Murphy
Backing Jesse into my shower, I’m enraptured by the anticipation in his eyes. After I peeled him out of that tiny Speedo and his cock bobbed free, I had my answer to what he thinks about us kissing.
His breath hitches when I shut the shower door behind me. It’s so damn cramped in here that we’re practically chest to chest.
His gaze canvasses my pecs, my torso, further downward and then back up. He’s seen all of me already, but still looks at me like my body is some kind of wonder. I know I hoped for that kind of reaction, but never imagined it would come true. Pining and having are two very different things. After the way he initiated earlier, I think I might actually have a shot at having him—as my own.
Reaching out, I slip my hand around the back of his neck and close the remaining distance between us. He sounds winded, but he doesn’t pull away or tell me to stop. Rather, his hands come up and rest on either side of my waist. Our cocks, pressed between us, are just an afterthought.
With a tentative lick, I trace the shell of his lower lip. His grip on my sides tightens. “Wait. Should I brush my teeth first?”
I think he’s still worried about his Sea-Monkey debacle. He’s always had adorable irrational fears. This one is now my favorite.
Shaking my head, I stroke my thumb over the hinge of his jaw. “Fuck no.”
Capturing his lower lip, I hold it gently between mine. Then, I do the same to the other. They’re still full from having been wrapped so beautifully around my cock. He’s perfect, absolutely perfect, all messed up because of me.
His eyes are pinched closed like this is seven minutes in heaven, but he’s trembling in my arms like his head is spinning as much as mine.
Swallowing, he whispers with a tremor in his voice, “See? Told you I know how to kiss.”
Fucking Jesse.
Brushing my nose against his, an errant water droplet trickles off his skin onto mine. “Open your mouth. I’m not done.”
The first taste of him has my knees going weak the way they did when he surprised me in the dressing room. He initiated that. Not me. It’s the motivation I need to be bold and take what I want. So, I do.
His tongue brushes awkwardly against mine at first, but I don’t think it’s wariness. Not by the way he’s gripping onto me. He really doesn’t know how to kiss.
Capturing his tongue, I give it a little suck. He lets out a garbled whimper when I release it, but I’m just getting started. Holding his head in place, I give his lips the same treatment and then I take no mercy on his mouth until he’s gasping for air and whining.
His hand shoves itself between us, but I pry it out and move my hips forward until he’s pressed against the wall. He looks confused until I grind our wet cocks together. The realization of the pleasure quickly spreads across his face, but he pulls away when I go for his mouth again.
Glancing over his shoulder, he squirms. “Um, I think your dick is in my ass.”
My cock twitches at the thought at the same time as my brain feels like it short-circuited. What is he talking about?
Following his gaze, I peek around his side and find my dildo smashed against his ass. The mental image has been planted, sending a jolt to my dick. I can’t help myself, and it’s not like there’s much room in here.
Slipping my hand to his ass cheek, I grab a handful. It’s tense, but relaxes at my touch, even when I draw it open and shift us until the silicone nestles between his cheeks.
“If my dick was in your ass, I think I’d know it,” I tease, sucking on his lip.
“I… don’t know if I could do that.”
Shit. Cupping his face, I look him in the eyes. “It was a joke.”
He nods, but I’m worried I killed the moment. Running my hand down to his hip, I ease off of him.
“Do you want me to get rid of the dick?”
Chewing his lip, he shifts his hips backward like he’s testing out the feel of it between his cheeks. His eyes widen in surprise, and then he flashes me a shy smile. “No, I can handle it.”
His hands trail over my shoulders and into my wet hair, pulling me back to his mouth. His kiss is soft and curious, even a little sloppy, but it’s now the best I’ve ever had.
I carve into his mouth slowly, savoring. Deep strokes. Gentle nibbles. His body is so pliant now, he’s like jelly in my hands—all but for his grip on my lower back. His fingers are digging into my love handles, pressing me into him. Each time I do, he groans, his ass grinding against the dildo.
“Wait,” he gasps, coming up for air, making my lungs lock up. “Is this what you did to the dick? I mean, was it…”
Oh, Jesse.
Cupping his face, I murmur against his lips, ignoring his revelation. “Show me what you did to my cock in that dressing room earlier.”
I offer him my tongue by invading his mouth. It takes him a second, but he figures it out. And damn, does he figure it out, swirling and suckling. Jesse has officially figured out kissing.
I don’t know if it’s the feral sounds I’m making, if it’s the pleasure from my mouth, or if he likes that silicone sliding between his cheeks, but his fingertips feel like they’re clawing at the top of my ass cheeks. Does he think he needs permission?
Reaching back, I cup my hand over his, slide it down the curve of my ass, and squeeze. I swallow the groan he lets out as his hips punch forward.
I’m a vers top, but it looks like Jesse’s just sent out some strong top signals. I doubt he even realizes. I have no clue if that’s even in the cards for us, but the thought of him fucking me makes me feel whole inside. For now, however, I could just kiss him for the next century.
And it feels like we do, even after we erupt all over our stomachs. Long after the water washes it away. We kiss until my lips are raw and as swollen as his, and it’s still not enough. I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of him.
When I realize the temperature has waned, I know it’s time to leave this steamy compartment of bliss. Our kisses are barely even kisses anymore, just lazy brushes to each other’s temples, cheeks, and necks.
Resting my forehead on his shoulder, the chill brings a hit of reality. He sounds so sedated, his fingers idly circling the globes of my ass as he tucks his face in my neck. We’re basically just holding each other. I don’t think either of us has said a word for fifteen minutes. It’s companionable and feels like… more than exploring.
“What are we doing?” I whisper.
“I don’t know,” he whispers back, nuzzling deeper into the side of my neck, “but… I like it.” His hand retreats from my ass, sliding up my spine, featherlight to my shoulder. Hesitant. Vulnerable. “Do you?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I do.”
Of course, I do—because I think that means he’s mine.