19. Lance #2
He turns his head down and really looks at me. “Tell me what you want,” he whispers.
I swallow, breathless. “Can we try the basics now?”
George holds my gaze for a long second. “You sure?”
I nod, no hesitation. With the way tonight has gone and everything already pushed this far, I know if I don’t say it now I might not get the chance again while it still feels possible.
“Come here.”
The words come out of George’s mouth in that low register he probably saves for moments like this. It carries weight, like he already has his hands on me before I’ve even moved.
George looks at me like he’s about to eat me alive. His jaw is clenched tight, eyes burning into mine like I’m the only thing in the room that matters.
Our chests brush as our heads angle toward each other. He’s close enough that I can see the way his beard follows the sharp line of his jaw. We let go of each other’s cocks, leaving them hard and heavy between us.
This is actually happening.
I can’t look at his eyes because it’s too intense, so I look at his mouth instead. What a bad idea. His lips are slightly parted, the lower one fuller. I feel him breathe in.
I lean in and kiss him.
The kiss lands mostly right. My mouth finds his and there’s a brief second of soft contact before my brain completely shuts down because this is George.
His lips are warm. A soft sigh escapes him the moment we touch.
I try to deepen it but it comes out clumsy, too tentative, the angle slightly off, my nose bumping his.
I pull back and laugh, because the alternative is panicking and losing face. “Okay. That was terrible. I’m better than this normally, I swear.”
George doesn’t laugh. He grabs my chin, fingers firm and demanding against my jaw. His thumb presses down on my lower lip, prying my mouth open. He pauses for a single heated beat, then yanks my face back to his and kisses me like a starving man.
He claims my mouth like he owns it. I fucking melt. His hand fists into my hair, gripping hard, locking me in place while his tongue pushes deep, stroking and invading. The rough pull on my scalp and the wet heat of his tongue against mine wipe every thought from my head.
The sound I make is involuntary and unhinged. I don’t even try to hold it back.
His beard scratches my chin. His chest is heavy and hard against mine. My hands roam over him, greedy, mapping the hard muscle underneath. He feels so fucking real and so much.
“G,” I manage to rasp between breaths.
He makes a low, guttural sound I feel vibrate through my chest. He pulls me closer, fingers tightening in my hair as we devour each other. His mouth is devastating. I’ve kissed people I thought were good at this. It turns out I’ve been wrong all this time because none of them were him.
George Torres-Macklin is a goddamn revelation of a kisser.
Someone needs to study this man in a lab because this level of kissing should come with a warning label, and possibly a priest. Nothing prepared me for this—not movies or porn, not even the worst corners of the internet. He’s on a completely different tier.
We finally break apart because we need air. Somehow I’m straddling his lap now, hands fisted tight in his shirt. I don’t remember moving. I’m pressed against him everywhere and it’s still not enough. His chest is hard muscle under my palms. His thick arms wrap around me, caging me in.
“That,” I say, breathing hard, “was not human.”
George looks up at me, eyes dark and burning. He licks his lips slowly, staring at my mouth like he’s seconds from dragging me back in.
“I need a minute to reevaluate my entire life,” I add.
“Don’t take your time,” he growls.
“I think I just got pregnant.”
George finally takes a break from being too intense and laughs, the sound vibrating through his chest into mine. “Can’t help it when I’m tasting something this good.”
“Fuck. You’re even saying the right things.”
I grab the back of his neck and crush his mouth to mine.
Waiting another second is impossible when his mouth is right here and I already know how fucking addictive he tastes.
His hand tightens on my neck as we attack each other, all tongue and teeth.
I grind down hard against him, the friction rips a groan from both of us.
George’s big hands grab my ass, gripping hard, pulling me tighter, demanding more.
The pressure is perfect, maddening, and nowhere near enough.
I hear a ruffling sound from the nearby couch.
Adrian is sitting sideways on Holloway’s lap, looking a bit well spent, chin resting on Holloway’s shoulder. Holloway’s hand rests at the small of Adrian’s back, proprietary and warm. Adrian’s eyes are bright with interest.
“Don’t stop now,” Adrian says with real delight in his voice. “But do you want us to leave?”
“No,” George and I say at the same time.
Holloway makes a sound that might be a laugh. He gives George a look, then gestures toward me with a slight tilt of his head. George seems to understand this because his hand comes between us. He looks at me with more intensity than before.
Oh.
“Oh,” I say that out loud.
George shoves his jeans down and I follow, my hands not entirely steady.
When we’re both free I look down at us. My mouth goes dry.
He has some inches on me, thick and heavy where I am leaner, flushed dark at the head with precum already sliding down his shaft.
Mine is pink and leaking against him. The sight of our cocks pressed together like this shorts out every thought in my head.
“You still with me?” George asks, breathless.
“Barely.”
He holds out his hand. Adrian shifts and the lube bottle lands in George’s palm.
He slicks us both up fast, then presses his palm flat, holding our cocks together.
The direct heat of him, the pulse beating against my shaft, knocks the air out of me.
He wraps his fist around us and the first stroke drags a sound from my throat I have never heard myself make.
We fall into it. I brace on his shoulders and push into his grip while he works us, lube and precum making everything slick and obscene. His strokes get shorter, faster. He loosens his fist so our shafts rub together more freely. I chase the feeling, grinding harder against him.
George’s breathing stutters. His grip tightens suddenly on my cock. “Lance,” he growls against my ear, barely holding it together. “Have to come first. But I promise I’ll take care of you after.”
He loses it hard. His hips jerk up and he groans deep as he spills between us, thick hot pulses of cum coating my cock and his fist. The sight of him coming undone because of me hits like fire in my chest. He keeps stroking through it, messy and shaky, milking every last drop.
The second he finishes, he kisses me slow and possessive.
Then he moves.
He shoves my pants down and off with one rough motion and manhandles me onto my back on the couch. He spreads my legs wide, completely opening me up.
“Time to explore that inner bottom,” he murmurs in my ear, kneeling in front of me, almost reverent. “Been thinking about this hole for way too long.”
I almost fucking die on the spot.
George scoops up some of his own cum from my stomach and cock, using it as lube. His slick fingers press against my hole. The first one sinks carefully.
My thighs start shaking as I fight to keep them open.
George leans over me. His free hand strokes my thigh. “That’s it,” he murmurs, the words coming out uneven. “Let me in.”
He works a second finger in, scissoring gently, searching for that spot.
My legs keep trying to snap shut on instinct, the angle awkward no matter how hard I try.
I know exactly how I need to tilt my hips.
I’ve fucked myself with toys enough times at home to have it memorized, but right now my body won’t listen.
It’s too much with George in the room. Too fucking overwhelming.
Adrian slides in beside me on the couch. Without a word he catches one of my thighs in a firm grip and pushes it back, then grabs the other, spreading me obscenely wide. He holds me down like that, his eyes dropping shamelessly to my stretched hole and then back up to my flushed face.
From where George is kneeling between my legs, the view must be filthy. His eyes flick up, burning with hunger as he looks at both of us.
“You should see yourself right now,” Adrian murmurs, voice warm with appreciation. “Taking George’s fingers so fucking well. Look at it swallow them.”