Chapter 2 #3
“Would you be annoyed if I wanted to… touch you somewhere else?” he asked me, softly, almost breathlessly. The hesitation in his voice told me what he was actually asking.
“Never.” My heart suddenly started pounding.
He ran his fingers down the side of my neck, then down the center of my t-shirt-clad chest. I shivered a little.
“Would you—” He paused, studied my face again. “Would you take it off?” he asked softly.
I stripped the shirt off, the coolness of the air in the apartment causing my skin to pebble and my nipples to harden. Or maybe that was anticipation and desperation.
His big, warm hands reached out and slid around my waist, and he pulled me toward him, rubbing his nose against my collar bone as his fingers tightened against my skin.
I felt warmth and wetness, followed by cool, as he licked a small spot near my collar bone. I shivered again.
“Rayn,” he breathed.
“Raj,” I countered.
“I—”
“Whatever you need,” I told him. “Anything you need.”
He groaned, but then surged upward, and I found myself on my back, his big body hovering over mine, radiating heat. “You don’t know—”
“I don’t,” I agreed. “But I want to.”
He let out a sound that was half-growl, half-moan and bent, tongue laving the skin behind my ear.
I made a whimpering sound, shifting my legs to move one around him, putting him between my thighs. His hands slid up my sides, pressing the heat of his chest to mine as he nuzzled into the side of my neck.
He shifted slightly, and I gasped in as he pushed his hips—and that heavy cock, grown harder than when I’d first seen it—against mine.
“Need to touch you,” he rasped.
“Then touch me,” I countered, then gasped as one of those big hands pushed into my sweatpants to cup my cock.
“God, fuck, Rayn,” he mumbled, then nipped at the edge of my ear.
I groaned, my hips pushing up into his hand.
I’d imagined this, wished for it, come into my own hand thinking about it.
His hand was so much better than mine.
“Raj,” I murmured back. “Please.”
His hand circled me, gripping, tugging. I moaned, my eyes slipping closed. My hands fumbled blindly, seeking the same part of his body, finding knit fabric and the hardness underneath, stroking him lightly.
“God, shit. I need—”
He let go of me long enough to pull his hands back and shove the sweatpants down his thighs, and I took advantage of his exposed cock, grasping it with a hand and causing him to throw his head back.
“That,” he gasped out. “I need that.”
I kept stroking him, and he reached between us to pull down my sweatpants, too, then pushed our hips close enough that I brushed my own erection as I worked his.
And then his hand came alongside mine, closing around my cock again, our wrists touching so that his up-stroke pushed my hand in rhythm with his.
I hissed between clenched teeth, trying to hold back the tightening feeling in my gut that told me I was going to lose control.
Raj’s hand began to move faster, and I whimpered.
“God, yes,” he breathed, the sound a half-growl. “Rayn.”
“Raj,” I managed. “I—”
“Yes,” he grunted as he sped up the pace. “Fuck, yes.”
I made some sort of strangled sound as my orgasm ripped through me, starting from my clenched abdomen, into my balls, and then throbbing out of my cock, coating Raj’s dark fingers.
“Fuck,” he hissed, his hips pushing into my hand, breath coming quickly. Then he lifted his fingers—still coated with my cum—to his mouth, his eyes locked on mine.
“Tell me,” he growled, “I can taste you.”
His pupils had blown wide, black rimmed in gold. I let out a soft, mewling sound, the idea of him wanting to taste my cum sending a shudder through me that felt electric.
I couldn’t speak, but I nodded, fingers tightening around him.
He slid one finger past his lips, a low growl vibrating through his chest, muscles of his legs clenching as he pushed into my hand.
His eyes closed as he sucked my cum off his finger, and watching him do it had me half-hard again, but then his whole body twitched, and he made a sound that sounded almost pained, his cock in my hand so hard it almost seemed as though it had stopped being flesh—and then it throbbed against my fingers, hot cum pumping out of him as he sucked in lungfuls of air, his free hand gripping his own thigh.
“Fuck,” he breathed, still kneeling between my splayed legs, his back bent and head hanging down. “Fuck,” he repeated.
I wasn’t sure what to say. Whether he was upset or—
“Rayn?” he asked, and I looked up at him, his gold-brown eyes a little more normal, his brow creased with worry.
“Raj?” I countered.
He reached out, and when I didn’t flinch, ran a warm hand down the inside of my thigh. “You okay?” he asked.
I frowned back up at him. “Why wouldn’t I be?” I asked.
He grabbed my hand—the one not coated in his cum—and lifted my fingers to his lips. “I was… needy,” he said softly.
“So was I,” I countered.
“I just wanted to make sure—”
I sighed. “I wanted it,” I said, a little annoyed, although I hoped I kept it out of my voice. “I wanted you. I want you.”
He swallowed, studying me as though trying to determine whether or not I was telling him the truth. “If you ever don’t…” he said.
I snorted. “I’ll let you know.”
He pushed himself up, hesitating a moment before walking out of the bedroom. I wondered if I’d said the wrong thing, although I was pretty sure that he wasn’t about to leave, since I hadn’t put his clothes in the dryer. I should do that.
I got up, grimacing at my one sticky hand and at the mess on my thighs that had come from both of us. I stood and was about to walk to the laundry when Raj came back, a washcloth in one hand.
“I—I was going to clean you up,” he said softly.
“Oh,” I said, feeling suddenly foolish. And warm in my belly. “I—was going to put your clothes in the dryer.” I looked down at my hand. “After I washed my hands.”
“I can do that,” he said, stepping closer and using the washcloth—which was warm—to clean off my fingers. “If you want to make sure they’re clean in the morning.” There was something slightly guarded to his tone.
I’d said something wrong. I wasn’t sure what, exactly. Maybe doing his laundry implied I wanted him to leave right away?
“I don’t want them to mildew,” I told him. “But you can stay in my sweatpants all day tomorrow, if you want.”
The tenseness in his body immediately relaxed. He’d thought I wanted him to leave. “I’ll move them,” he said, and this time his tone was soft, warm. “You clean up, and then we can try to get a little more sleep. Okay?”
I smiled at him. “Okay.”
Neither one of us bothered putting the sweatpants back on when he crawled back into bed, wrapping his big, warm body around mine. He breathed in my hair, his lungs inflating against my back, as the sky just began to shift toward dawn.
“The sun’s coming up,” I said softly.
He hummed a little against my hair. “You’re all I need, mera ravi,” he said softly, the words a little mumbled.
“What’s… mera ravi?” I asked.
“It’s Hindi,” he murmured, his voice starting to sound heavy with sleep. “My sunshine.”