Chapter 24
CHAPTER
TWENTY-FOUR
KENNEDY
Ithink I was made to be on my knees for him. The way he’s standing over me is hot as hell. He’s thin, very lightly muscled, piercings glinting on his face and at the head of his dick, and all I want is to feel it rubbing against my tonsils again.
His dark eyes are watching me, not bothering to hold back the need he feels, and I know for a fact that he’s choosing to show me since Ziggy has no problem closing off when he wants to.
He wants me to know how much I turn him on, like I want him to know he does the same to me. Not only is he hot, smart, interesting, with a dick I could suck all day, but the fact that no one else has ever touched him is a massive turn-on.
I’m not a possessive guy. I might come on too strong in relationships, but it’s never in an ownership way. I’m getting a thrill of excitement from exploring parts of him that no one has ever seen before.
With a huff, I push to my feet, shed my restrictive jeans, and kick my briefs off after them. His gaze drinks me in like he never wants to stop looking, and fuck me, I feel the same.
I give my cock a good tug to take the edge off.
“I can’t make up my mind how I want to get you off.”
He sets his fingertips on the center of his chest and slowly trails them down his body. I try to swallow my groan, and I fail.
“Touch yourself.”
Ziggy hooks my gaze as he wraps those long, capable fingers around his shaft.
“Damn, you’re so hot. Jerk off.”
He does, touching himself with the intimate strokes of familiarity, and I want to learn his body the way he knows it. Want to know exactly what he needs to make him come.
My own dick is aching, desperate to touch, but I can’t make up my mind. I want to take over, but I also want him back in my mouth, and I really want him to turn around and give me a better view of that ass I can’t stop thinking about. Maybe sink my cock into his hole until he’s crying out for more.
My dick gives a warning throb, and I hurry to squeeze it again.
I need to make up my mind.
“Turn around.”
I don’t sound anywhere near as demanding as I’m trying to. Not a surprise, though, when I’m weak for this man.
He sets his forearm against the rock wall and keeps jerking off. His jeans are around his ankles, and his underwear is stretched tight around his thighs, but they’re low enough to expose his ass, and I step forward, needing to touch it.
He fills my hands, and I grab him hard, squeezing the soft flesh and picturing how it would jiggle with him bouncing on my cock.
The image is sinful. I want it so much, but I don’t have lube or condoms, and fucking him without them isn’t an option.
If I’m the only person he’s ever had sex with, I’m going to make sure I set the standard.
I give in to the urge to touch him, pressing myself against his back and slipping my cock between his legs. My tip is nudging his balls, and Ziggy shivers in my arms.
I box him in and drag my tongue up his neck until I reach his ear. “You are too sexy for words.”
That gets a husky laugh from him.
“I want to devour you.” My hips thrust forward, not able to stop myself. “Touch you. Suck and lick every inch of your body.”
“What else?”
His voice hooks something behind my navel that tugs us together.
Seals my need for him in a way I’ve never experienced before.
Like separating from him isn’t an option.
“I’d make you fly, Ziggy. Make you feel so good you wouldn’t be able to stop from screaming my name.
” I spit into my hand and coat my cock with it.
Then I slide it back between his thighs.
“Close your legs,” I beg, lips right by his ear. “Squeeze my cock as tight as you can make it.”
He does exactly as I asked, and fuck, it makes me hot.
How well we work together, how eager he is to please, and how damn eager I am to make him feel good.
This has been building all week, to the point where I had to walk away today before I pinned him to the wall, and the fact that he thought I could possibly be interested in Caroline when he’s been teasing me with all of this is ridiculous.
“You’ve been driving me out of my mind all week,” I tell him, starting to thrust.
“You can talk.”
If he thinks I have anything on him, he’s dead wrong.
“Nuh-uh,” I breathe. “Just watching your hands move. Remembering them on my dick. The cute, shy little looks you give me from under your hair. The way your jeans tease at that ass they’re hiding.
How sometimes your shirt pulls up and shows off a little slip of skin.
You have no idea how much my mouth waters every time I see it. I’ve got nothing on that.”
His shaky exhales bounce off the wall as he pushes back against me, muscles in his thighs shifting and flexing around my dick in a way that feels indescribable.
“What about when you look at me like you’re about to break?
The way your eyes go dark. How your jaw tenses.
The way you use any excuse to touch me.”
“You noticed that, huh?”
“Kenny …” He laughs darkly, voice thick with arousal. “I live for that.”
Shit. He’s so on edge, it gets me closer.
Even naked, the night is warm, and I’m building up a sweat as I move against him.
Our bodies are sealed together, skin slapping against skin as I lose control of my thrusts.
The scent from his hair is filling my nose, his heavy breathing is on a direct line of access to my balls, and the feel of his body under my hands—his nipples, his chest, his sides and stomach—I’ve lost the ability to process it all.
My balls have tightened, ready, and I need Ziggy to get there first. He’s stopped jerking off to press both hands against the wall in front of him, so I drop one of mine to do it for him.
“Please,” he hisses. “I’m close. Too close.”
“Good.” I drag wet, messy kisses down his neck. “Come for me. Show me how good I make you feel.”
He shudders, the friction around my dick almost too much. He’s sticky with my precum, and he’s pressing back as desperately as if he were riding me. Fuck, I want that so bad. My teeth dig into his shoulder as I hold back the need to come.
He’s going to be first.
I’ll edge myself all night if I have to.
“I still can’t believe it,” I murmur.
“What?”
“That no one else has ever touched you.”
He makes a dismissive noise as he thrusts into my fist.
“I mean it.” My words come out harshly. “They have no idea what they were missing out on. I’m going to hear your cute little moans for the rest of my life.”
And like he’s trying to seal my fate, he moans. Hoarse, soft, in the back of his throat, like he’s trying to stop it but can’t.
“That’s it. Just like that.” I suck on the closest stretch of skin I can reach. “Let me hear you.”
“No, no, no-no, no.” His dick pulses, and he covers the wall with his release.
Every twitch, every throb, every muffled sound of his pleasure has mine crashing down over me.
I come so hard, blackness kicks in for a second, but I grip his hips hard and don’t slow down until my balls are empty, and a rush of calm passes through me and makes my limbs light.
I fold forward against his back, breathing deeply, face pressed to smooth skin, and never wanting to move in my life.
He speaks too soon. “Well, fuck. Was really trying to last longer than that.”
He sounds half-drunk, half-asleep, and a surge of satisfaction ripples through me.
I did that.
And I want to keep on doing that.
Well, our friendship lasted all of five seconds. I know I’m supposed to regret my lack of self-control or whatever, but Ziggy with flushed cheeks and messy hair and bright eyes only makes me thankful to have shit all willpower.
“I think we have a problem,” I say, stepping into my briefs and pulling them back up.
The confusion that ripples across his brow is adorable, and I lean in to press a kiss to it.
“I don’t think we can be friends.”
“You don’t want to be friends with me?” he mutters, soft as a breath, but when I meet his eyes, the teasing in them is impossible to miss.
“I’d love to be friends with you, but considering the things I want to do to you are incredibly unfriendly, I don’t see how it would work.”
“Felt friendly to me.”
I catch my laugh, looking around with an uncontrollable smile on my face. “So. Where’s your place?”
His eyes dart to the side, expression immediately closing off as he tugs his jeans up.
“Wait … why do I get the feeling you don’t want to show me?”
He opens his mouth, then quickly closes it again. Wary eyes search mine, and then with a huff, he turns on his heel and walks into the mine shaft right by us.
I wait a beat for him to come back, and when he doesn’t, I follow him. As I creep around the corner, I’m half expecting a bear or a mountain lion to jump out at me.
I’m not expecting to walk into a whole-ass home.
“What is this?” I ask, then a second later want to kick myself. It’s obvious what it is. It’s where Ziggy lives.
There’s a couch and a TV on one side, then what looks like the pieces of a bathroom on the other. Behind it all is a bed, and behind that … nothing but darkness. I’m torn between finding it cool and creepy as hell.
“You live here?”
He’s paused in the middle of the room, hovering there and watching me like he’s waiting for something. It’s getting dark, so his face is harder to read than usual, but as I look around, I can feel his expectant stare. The way he’s begging me to say something.
“It’s … nice.” Thankfully, I manage to inject conviction into my voice.
He scowls, tucking his hands under his arms, like he’s hugging himself.
“No, really. This is cool. Umm, different, obviously, but …” I fall silent when annoyance clouds his features. “Fine, it creeps me out a little. But I’m not used to it, that’s all.”
He turns, taking in his place, gaze straying back to all that darkness. His hair falls over his face, and I know what he’s doing. He’s withdrawing to protect himself.
I don’t ever want him to need protecting from me.
“Nuh-uh …” I close the distance between us, and even when I sling my arm around his waist, he’s tense. “Ziggy, don’t be mad. Please.” I tuck his hair back, and he drags his dark eyes up to meet mine, a determined spark deep in them.
“I like it.”
“Good.” I have no idea how, but I’m not stupid enough to say that. “It’s your place. You should.”
“But you don’t.”
I sigh, because I don’t want to lie to him. “It’s not that I don’t like it. It’s unconventional and cool. But …” I nod toward where the shaft disappears into nothingness. “How can you sleep, picturing something coming out of the darkness and eating you alive?”
“I don’t picture it.”
He’s giving me so much more openness than I could hope for, and I don’t want to lose it.
“You are a thousand times braver than me. But … this is your place, and I sort of hope I’ll be spending more time here, so I know it’ll grow on me like it grew on you.
” At least that’s what I hope, and I’m going to try.
“You’re spending time here?”
He’s going to make me clarify, because of course he is.
For a guy who doesn’t like words, he’s not shy about facing difficult conversations.
And I don’t care how many relationships I’ve had, admitting feelings is never an easy thing to do.
I think it’s because of how many relationships I’ve had that it’s harder than it should be.
Because I know what comes next.
I tell him how I feel, and he lies and says he feels it too, then he immediately starts pulling away. And the distance only makes me try to cling tighter.
The alternative is being caught in this endless loop of pretending to be friends until the pressure breaks, sleeping together, and then faking friends again.
Both options sound fucking painful.
“I like you, Ziggy,” I confess. “More than a friend.”
“I know.”
That simple acknowledgment helps snap my nerves in two. “Of course you do.”
“Your thoughts are very loud.”
Maybe that should bother me, but it doesn’t. “Even without speaking them?”
“Especially without speaking them.” His lips barely move, but they’re still puffy from kissing, and with the worry gone, his whole face is content. I like that look on him.
“You’re so beautiful.”
He chokes on a laugh, and I know he disagrees and wants to deny it, but I don’t let him.
“Don’t shake your head at me. You can think whatever you like, but so can I. And I think you’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever met.”
One corner of his lips holds a smile. “I like you too.”
The relief—and fear—that crashes through me is almost too much. “Okay. Good.”
Good. His arms loop around my neck.
“Umm … what does this mean? Are we dating or … or boyfriends?”
He sucks in a sharp inhale. “Boyfriends.”
“Yeah?”
Yeah.
“Okay.” My hand shakes as I brush his hair back again. Screw holding out for my forever person. Screw the six months with no dating.
Ziggy’s exactly who I want.
Now I have to shut up that voice telling me that I’m making the same mistakes I always do.