Chapter 32 Boone #2
He sniffs and lets out a dry laugh. “I can’t get my head around the fact that my Booney is kissing me as much as I’m kissing him. Holding me tight like he can’t imagine letting go. I thought I was the only one who felt this way.”
He’d said something similar back at my apartment, and I realize that, after everything we’ve been through today, he needs reassurance.
“You’re not. I’m here right with you.”
Our lips and bodies meet, hot skin against hot skin, and the violence and upheaval of the day go up in smoke, insignificant in comparison to this moment.
The next time we come up for air, Mav pushes his forehead against mine, breathing heavily, licking his kiss-swollen lips, his eyes burning with unsaid words.
“Say it, beautiful,” I encourage him.
He inhales sharply, shaking his head. “It’s okay. I can wait.”
“Say it, sweetheart.”
He blinks, tears wetting his pretty lashes.
“I love you.” His voice cracks. “I love you so much.”
I flush at the sincerity of his words, hoping I can deserve them. “I know.”
“I’ve loved you for so long, and…I can’t lose you.” His tears come down in earnest. “Please tell me this isn’t some sort of kiss-off with a smile.”
“It isn’t,” I assure him.
Mav pulls away, looking deep into my eyes, as if excavating an important truth.
“Are you sure?”
I give him a warm smile, needing him to see how I feel. “Do you know how special it is to be loved by you?” I ask, hearing the wonder in my own words. “Do you think I have any control over how fast I’m falling for you?”
“No?”
“None at all,” I say, cupping his face with both hands before kissing him again. “I have zero control over this. I have zero control over any of it, but this is my favorite part.”
His response is another loud sniffle, and I grin as I thumb away his tears.
“My mother is going to love you, and my father is going to be so proud of me for finding someone like you.”
“You’re not lying?” he asks, then curses under his breath, “Don’t be so desperate, Mav.”
“It’s not desperate to verify, and to answer your question, I don’t lie.” I fix him with a serious stare. “And I especially would never lie to you.”
It takes a moment for the words to register, but when they do, they hit him like a wave. First, his expression shifts. Then, the tension he’s been holding in his perfect body relaxes, as if something’s been cracked open.
“I love you so much,” he whispers again, this time more breathless than the last.
I trace his cheekbones with the tips of my fingers, nodding as I stare into his eyes.
Maverick throws his arms around me, holding me in this sea of quilts for several long moments.
Finally, grinning devilishly, he rolls over to his bedside table and opens the drawer, which is so overstuffed it nearly falls off the track.
He adjusts it till it sits right, then digs around until he comes up with a bottle of lube, triumphant.
One of the most beautiful men in the world lies back and lets his knees part for me.
It feels like choreography, no awkward moments, no weird pauses, just me hovering over him, taking in this look on his face that says how deep his feelings for me go.
My fingers, slick with lube, find their way between his cheeks.
“You still good?” I ask, stroking his tightly furled hole.
His chest rises on a sharp inhale. “Still good.”
With gentle, insistent pressure, I breach his body, kissing along his collarbone and down his chest as I work to soften him. He must’ve stretched himself in the shower, but I still take my time.
I add fingers as I drop teasing kisses on his nipples, his body arching, perfect.
“I’m ready,” he croaks, needy.
“I’m sure you are.” I grin, dropping to my side, my fingers still inside him. “But why don’t you take your pretty foreskin and dock me first?”
The directive is gentle, but unmistakably a command.
He faces me and gathers a bit of lube at his fingertips. He’s having a hard time concentrating because I’ve continued to take him apart with my fingers as he works out the logistics of docking me.
His hands shake as he touches our cocks together. He’s so hard that his foreskin is already pulling back, and I bite back a grunt when he stretches it over my sensitive head.
Fucking hot and tight and so silken I want to shout to the rooftops.
I crook my fingers just so.
He curses, my cock slipping away from him.
“Focus,” I demand. “I know you can do this for me.”
He nods, softly grunting with each of my thrusts, finding the rhythm as he touches the heads again. He drags the thin, slick skin over my cockhead, his eyes never leaving mine.
I bite back a whimper.
“Fuck, that’s a real good boy,” I whisper.
The praise glazes his eyes over, causing his hand to stutter.
Breathing heavily, he focuses and strokes us. Once—ah fuck—twice.
“If I keep doing this, I’m gonna come,” he whines, trying so hard to keep it together.
“You will not come until I say so.” I then watch, fascinated and horny, as he tries to pull together the self-control to make my words true.
My own desire screams from every cell in my body with every stretch of foreskin, from the way his cock bumps against mine to how the ridges catch on each other.
Bump. Catch.
Bump. Catch.
He’s driving me insane, and I’m falling harder because of it.
My orgasm is imminent, and not wanting this to end, I withdraw my fingers from his body and fall back, breathing raggedly, barely holding on.
“Sadist,” Maverick accuses, chasing me with a kiss.
“Not quite,” I say, panting as a creamy pearl of precum rolls down his cock. “I just like to draw it out sometimes.”
He gestures at his cum-swollen balls. “Please…please let me come.”
Fixing him with an evil look, I flip him over, face down, the jiggle of his perfect ass nearly enough to take me out.
“Fuck, this ass.”
“Please fuck this ass,” he begs.
I chuckle, parting his cheeks with both hands. His hole, slick with lube, stretched and waiting, is gonna be the death of me.
I need a few seconds to catch up on oxygen.
“Boone.”
Happy to put him out of his misery, I roll my hips forward. The visual of my cock sliding inside him, and the heat and grip of his body… I’m barely holding on.
“That’s right, baby,” I hiss, breathless. “Take it.”
He lifts his hips, leaning forward so his forehead is pressed against his forearms, the most beautiful art in this room.
“Aw hell,” I grunt, gripping his hips as I bottom out. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. Keep still,” I beg, nearly going over again.
We breathe in sync, connected. Several seconds pass, and I thrust forward: deep, hard, brutal.
“Yes,” he chokes out.
Another thrust, and he whimpers.
Knowing we’re riding on the same edge of desperation, I nearly lose my mind. Unable to maintain the slow pace, I fuck him hard.
“Everyone on the planet wants this perfect ass,” I growl. “But it belongs to me.”
“Only you,” he chokes out.
My hips take over, thrusting, tilting, finding that perfect angle for his ultimate pleasure, giving him everything I’m capable of.
“Close,” he warns, and I immediately slow down.
“Bastard.”
“You know it,” I say, grinning as I drag us onto our sides.
Tossing my leg over his hip, I slow my thrusts to a glacial pace. In and out, gentle where I was once brutal.
“I fucking love this body of yours,” I say, biting his shoulder, palming the sideways curve of his hip. “Such a pretty muscle bottom.”
My hand drifts to his pec, cupping it, teasing the nipple with my thumb, and I bury myself deeper than before. With one final pinch of his nipple, I drag my hand down past his abs to his bobbing, angry cock. I know he’s desperate for me to grip him, to jack him while fucking into him.
Instead, I gently, carefully, stretch and pull on his foreskin, slicking it down and up over his sensitive head.
“Coming,” he warns me, even though I know he’s desperate.
I slide my hand to the base of his cock, gripping it tightly. “Not. Yet,” I say, even as I increase my thrusts.
“I need it,” he begs. “Please let me.”
I tighten my grip, and he chokes out a simple, devastating, “Please.”
As if I could hold out for a second longer.
I release the tight grip, letting the blood rush his poor, abused member as I crank up and down his shaft. His body glitches, twitching here and there as I wring pleasure from him. He tosses his head back, catching my cheekbone, fucking my hand until he stiffens, going off like a champagne cork.
“Yeah, baby.” Buried deep, short thrusts. “Come for me.”
He’s still coming as my own orgasm finally cannot be denied a second longer. Shouting, I release, filling him, needing him. Loving him.
And that is the truth I can no longer deny.
The words spill forth like water, inevitable. “I love you too,” I whisper, thrusting one last time. “I need you. So much.”
We lie there, a mess, the real world just outside the door.
“Whatever happens, we have each other,” I say, knowing he needs to hear it. Knowing I need to hear it. “Never doubt that.”