Chapter 53
Chapter fifty-three
Duncan
Proud of yourself, eh?
I love the confusion that flashes across his face. He came, he thinks it's my turn.
First of all, I've leaked in my pants so much I doubt he'd have to do much of anything to get me to explode, but right now. I'm not going to let him soften.
"What do you mean I'm not finished?" He huffs out between breaths.
Instead of answering him with my words I simply stick out my tongue and pull him into my throat again before he can soften too much.
"Fuck, Duncan." His hands fly to my head, his fingers gripping the roots of my hair and the delicious sting of pain only spurs me on.
Tossing my glasses to the side, I let myself get sloppy as I familiarize myself with his cock again. I am desperate for him.
The essence of his musky, salty release still coats my tongue as I devour him. Fuck, I just need him to feel good.
So good he'll never want to leave again.
The logic is flawed but I’d be an idiot to claim I have logic at my disposal when I'm on my knees for a man who asked me to be with him just days before backing away.
The only thing I want in my life now is to be his.
To call him mine.
A satisfied hum surfaces from my chest as the dream of Rhys with me on a daily basis fills my mind. I'm sure some couples hook up less often the longer they're together but that wouldn't be us.
I'd have this man naked, pulsing with need, every chance I got.
I feel him harden as my lips graze up and down his length.
"Duncan, shit, I'm gonna come again."
I lift up higher on my knees to change the angle and I can take him even deeper now. My hands shake, or maybe it's his thighs shaking but either way our bodies are wound impossibly tight.
My cock swells as his hand brackets the back of my neck, holding me down on him. I gag but I settle myself through it because if my loss of oxygen gives him more pleasure I would never breathe again.
A guttural sound fills the space and his hold on me relaxes as he orgasms. I move gently as I lap him up knowing he'll be beyond sensitive.
When he slumps back against the sofa I preen. With a chuckle, he raises one eyebrow. "Proud of yourself eh?"
I make a show of wiping my lips. "I mean I just delivered a double orgasm for my man, so yeah, pretty proud of that."
"Your man?"
"Yeah."
"I like the sound of that, c'mere." Rhys pulls me to stand. His hands slide under the waistbands of my shorts and boxers and he slides them down my legs. He tugs me onto his lap and I straddle him. Our cocks brushing. "But I want to make you my man too."
"As long as you don't ask me to marry you right now I'll give you anything." I joke as I press kisses along his jaw.
Rhys’s eyes close and he exhales a heavy sigh, "Duncan."
I lean back and look at him and I don't need 20/20 vision to know the look on his face is almost sad. How can anyone be sad after a blow job like that?
"What is this for you?" He asks as he shifts back, like he’s trying to put space between us.
I take the hint and move off his lap, sliding my glasses on before settling in the corner of the sofa.
"What do you mean?" My words stutter slightly as I watch him pull his boxers and pants back on from where they rested around his ankles. It is like a wall going up right in front of my eyes.
"I mean, what are we doing? I thought, well, I clearly thought wrong."
Feeling vulnerable, I pull my shorts off the floor and slide them on too. The fabric feels abrasive against my skin like it isn't supposed to be there.
My hand reaches out and grips his thigh but he stands and crosses over to the kitchen island. His shoulders slump forward as he braces his hands on the marble and I am so fucking lost.
"What the hell just happened?" I ask out loud.
He spins, a fire in his eyes I've never seen before welds me in place. I freeze, waiting for him to deliver this blow. "Duncan, why am I here right now?"
I glance around wondering if there's some other Duncan behind me because "isn't it obvious?" I gesture to where my cock is tenting my shorts.
"No, it isn't, not to me."
"Well," maybe orgasms kill brain cells. "After you came to my game last night, we agreed to meet here today. I spent the night barely sleeping listening for the sound of the elevator."
"Because you wanted to fuck." He says it like it's a bad thing.
"Well, yeah, of course. I haven't been with you in like six weeks."
"So this is a hook up."
"Yeah." But I know as soon as I say the word it's the wrong answer.
"I’m gonna leave."
"What? No!" I bolt across the room to him in a few strides. "Why? What the fuck Rhys?"
"What the fuck Rhys? No, what the fuck Duncan?!" He yells as he steps around the counter putting space between us.
We're like mirror images of each other, chests heaving, palms flattened, glaring at the other across the island.
"Rhys, please for the love of, just, fucking tell me what the fuck is going on."
"I want more!" His words crash against the hard surface between us. "Not just more Duncan, I want it all." These words are whispered but they reverberate off the walls and send tremors through my body.
"I want that too." I say after my body settles.
"No you don't." He says with a scoff. "You literally just said you don't want it."
"When did I say that?" My mind races with what words he could possibly be thinking of right now.
"I said I wanted to make you mine," he points to the sofa. "Fuck Duncan, I wanted to claim you, I still do even though my head is telling me not to."
Rhys's hand drags up through his hair and he grips the back of his neck. His biceps pop in a delicious way and his chest looks broad and solid, like a place I want to rest my head when this fight is over.
"I want to be yours, Rhys." Desperately.
"No you don't."
"Don't tell me how I'm feeling." I grouse.
"Then you tell me! Fuck Duncan, I never know what's real or what's a joke with you!"
The ALS sign for I Love You rises and falls on his pec and it becomes my focal point as I try to settle my heart into a normal rhythm again.
"Everything is real, it's all real. Rhys, I love you.
I've never, and I mean never, felt this way about another person before.
You," my palm slaps against the counter as my brain struggles to come up with the words.
"You're everything. You're like the feeling of satisfaction after a long workout.
You're like the rush of adrenaline when we pull ahead, you're like the wave of desperation when the other team scores a goal. "
"Are all of your descriptions going to be hockey related?" He asks with the hint of a smirk that gives me so much hope it's dangerous.
"That's pretty much all I know. And someone once called it poetry."
"That person sounds pretty smart."
"He's hot too." I bite back my smile. Suddenly my back feels tired, the weight of everything I am feeling and confessing becoming too much on my shoulders. I drop to my elbows on the counter, fold my hands together, and after tapping my clasped fingers a few times I turn my gaze to Rhys.
"My life has been joy, jokes, and hockey. And then you come in and bring this brooding artist energy,"
"Are you calling me depressing?"
"No, well," I pause. "No, not depressing, but thought provoking."
I glance down at the counter again, these words feeling too heavy to share with eyes wide open.
"You've allowed me to discover a depth of feeling I didn't know I had.
" I rise up and dig a finger into the muscle over my heart.
"Here. It hurts right here. My heart is so fucking frustrated because none of the words my brain comes up with are enough. "
"Duncan." He whispers.
When my eyes find his again they're lined with tears.
Maybe his heart hurts too. "My best friend fell in love, he had a baby, he doesn't have the same room for me as he did, and I'm happy for him, really I am.
Crocs and I have been at each other's side for too long. And then, you waltz in and teach me how a friendship can also include a lot of hot sex but more than that. When I’m with you I feel like my heart is outside my body. "
I flatten my palm over my pec. Below it, under thin layers of skin, thick layers of muscle, and a bone or two the organ beats wildly. "It's still in there, but when you left it felt incomplete."
"Duncan." Rhys's words have softened and the kitchen island feels like a continental divide between us.
Before my brain knows what is happening I lift myself up onto the counter, land on my ass, swing my legs around and in the unsexiest move ever witnessed, scootch my ass across the marble.
Rhys smiles and steps back enough to give me room to let my legs fall off the edge. Then he steps between my knees and rests his hands on the tops of my thighs.
"I love you Rhys." I hold his head in my hands. "What did I do wrong?"
"Nothing." He shakes his head trying to avoid eye contact with me but I pull him back to me.
"No, not nothing. You were naked, and I was ready to have your cock fill me, and then you put your pants on. So something changed."
He laughs. "So it's hockey and sex with you huh?"
"What else is there?"
"Music."
"I'll add music but you're the one who didn't put on a playlist this time."
"Because you came in and basically dropped to your knees!"
"Are you complaining?"
"No, just, ugh you've distracted me again."
"Sorry." I lift my hands up in surrender. "Tell me what spooked you. Please, I don't want to make the same mistake twice."
"You don't want to get married."
"When did I say that?"
"You said, just don't ask me to marry you right now."
"That's not the same as never wanting to get married."
"It's not far off." He shrugs meekly.
I lean back so he can see all of my face as I tell him this. "Rhys, you ended this six weeks ago. Then I did everything I could not to spiral and start writing sad love songs myself. We just got back together."
I place my finger under his chin. When his eyes meet mine I hold his gaze as long as possible as I lean in and press a kiss to his lips. Slowly I slide along his jaw to his ear, his stubble grating against my lips. The desire to flatten my tongue and lick him is strong but I need to stay focused.
With a delicate nip to his earlobe, he shivers and I whisper, "when I ask you to marry me it won't be when we're naked and desperate for each other."
The sexy little intake of his breath feels like being wrapped in a warm blanket eating chocolate chip cookies.
"Can we go to bed now?" I ask him.
"Please." He pushes his hands up to my waist and leans in. We devour each other. We pour every ounce of longing into this kiss but it doesn't feel desperate. It doesn't feel like something we're chasing.
It feels like coming home.