Chapter 40
FORTY
ALEXANDER
His eyes widen—he blinks, opens his mouth like he wants to say something, then closes it again like a fish gasping for air. He’s stunned.
Good.
“Don’t make me repeat myself, Lucas,” I say, voice low and tight, every muscle in my body strained. My self-control is hanging by a thread, and his hesitation is testing it.
“But… your parents are waiting,” he says, voice small and unsure, like he’s trying to convince himself more than me.
I let out a sharp sigh, my jaw clenching as I push my seat back.
Slowly, deliberately, I unbuckle my belt, the metallic click echoing louder than it should.
I unzip my pants, reach into my briefs, and pull my cock free.
It’s hard, throbbing, flushed, and aching.
I don’t say a word as I wrap my fist around it, giving it a slow pump, my eyes locked on him.
His breath stutters, eyes blown wide as they fall to my cock. His mouth parts, and I watch the heat rush into him like a wave, flushing his cheeks, darkening his gaze. His pupils dilate so quickly that it makes my cock twitch in my hand. I groan at the jolt of sensation.
His eyes finally lift to meet mine.
There it is, that look. The one that undoes me every time. Desire, raw and consuming. My control shatters.
“My cock’s waiting too,” I rasp, my voice hoarse and heavy with need. “Take off your pants. Right now, Lucas.”
I watch him swallow hard. His hands tremble slightly as he reaches for his sneakers, pulling them off one by one. Then his pants, he slides them down with shaky fingers, his movements quick but unsteady, until he’s sitting there in nothing but his shirt, white briefs, and socks.
“Come here,” I order.
He bites his bottom lip, then moves slowly at first, crouching a little so he doesn’t bump his head on the ceiling. I silently thank myself for taking the Brabus G-Wagon; it’s bigger and has more space. Enough for what we are about to do.
He straddles my thighs, and I guide him down with my hands, gripping his waist as I lean the seat back further. His body presses against mine, all heat and tension and breathless anticipation.
He’s completely flush against me now, his cock pressing against mine through his briefs.
“Are you comfortable?” I murmur, brushing his curls from his face, needing to see him. All of him.
He nods once, but his cheeks are burning. And his eyes? His eyes are pure fire. The need in them nearly brings me to my knees.
I grab his face and kiss him like I’m drowning, like his mouth is the only thing keeping me alive.
My hands thread into his hair, tugging him closer, desperate to feel all of him, taste all of him.
He lets out a soft sound against my lips, melting into me like he’s been waiting for this just as long as I have.
The kiss isn’t soft. It’s not patient. And it’s all I strive for.
His fingers are frantic, tugging at the buttons of my shirt, ripping them open one by one with impatient hands. His palms slide over my chest like he’s trying to memorize me by touch alone, grinding down against me with a whimper that shoots straight to my cock, making it stiffer.
I groan into his mouth, grabbing the back of his neck, deepening the kiss until it feels like I’m consuming him. Or maybe he’s consuming me. I can’t tell anymore.
I feel his legs tighten around my lap as his hips rock forward again, and we both gasp, the friction maddening. There’s no space between us anymore. No air, just breath, heat, and the sound of rain tapping against the windshield like it’s keeping our rhythm.
My lips trail down his jaw, then back up to kiss him harder, deeper, my tongue sliding against his, swallowing the small whimper that escapes him. I groan, the sound deep in my chest, because this—this is what I’ve been needing since the moment I pulled him into my arms after that shit with Oliver.
“Alex…” he moans against my lips, the sound of it shattering what little composure I had left.
He pulls back slightly, just enough to breathe, but not enough to leave the heat between us. His fingers trail down my chest, grazing over my abs before wrapping around my cock with slow, deliberate curiosity.
“Fucking hell…” I growl, my hips jerking into his touch. My breath stutters as I watch his slender fingers glide over me, manicured nails pale and perfect against the flushed skin of my length. He can’t even close his hand around it completely, and something about that drives me absolutely mad.
“Can anyone see us?” he whispers, uncertainty flickering in his voice, but his hand never leaves me. He’s still stroking, slow, teasing, testing me.
I shake my head, my voice low and gritty.
“It’s tinted. No one can see us. You’re mine here.”
And he is.
I cup the back of his neck and pull him close again, so close that our foreheads nearly touch. His breath is warm against my lips, his eyes wide and shining as he looks down at me like he’s already undone.
“I need you to ride my cock,” I whisper, my voice rough with hunger. “You begged for it, so now earn it, baby.”
He swallows, lips parting, but I don’t let him speak. I reach into the glove compartment and pull out a small packet of lube, because I came prepared, because the thought of needing him like this is never far from my mind—and I hand it to him.
My hands slide down to his ass, and in one swift, urgent motion, I rip his briefs just enough to bare what I need. Not completely, no, I want his cock still caged in that soft fabric, straining, aching, while I fuck up into him with every inch.
His breath hitches, eyes going wide, but I don’t give him time to question it.
“Lube your fingers and get your hole ready for me,” I murmur, my voice low, rough, already burning from holding back. “Do it slow. Let me feel how much you want this.”
He pauses for just a second, just one heartbeat, then tears open the packet with shaking hands.
I watch him, breathing heavily as he coats his fingers.
My chest tightens the second he reaches behind himself.
The moment his fingers press in, his lips part in a soft gasp.
His eyes flutter shut as he starts to work himself open, slow and hesitant at first.
He squirms a little, uncertain, adjusting, and I let him take his time.
I don’t move. I don’t say a word. I watch him. Every second of it. Every shift of his hips. Every quiet whimper that escapes his pretty mouth.
It takes everything in me not to stroke myself, not to lose it right here watching him fuck himself open for me. My cock throbs in my hand, thick and twitching, and I tighten my grip until my knuckles burn.
His breathing changes —softer, quicker —and his lashes lift as his eyes meet mine, and something in his gaze clicks.
Something filled with intensity. Whatever hesitance he has melts.
His hand starts to move faster, bolder, and I swear my vision blacks out for a second with how badly I want to be the one inside him.
“Put in a second finger,” I rasp, my voice hoarse as I give myself one slow stroke. He shudders. I can tell by the shift of his spine that he obeys.
Then he moans, quiet and breathy, it shoots through my veins like lightning.
“Alex… please…” he whispers, voice almost broken with want.
I grit my teeth, looking at the way his body trembles for me, the way he’s gasping as he fingers himself, small soft whimpers escaping him as he rocks just slightly on his own fingers, and fuck, he looks beautiful, wild, needy, so completely mine to ruin.
“You ready to ride my cock, krasivy?” I ask, stroking my cock in sync with his movements. His head dips. He nods.
But I don’t let that slide.
“Words, baby,” I say, voice a command and a promise. “Tell me what you want.”
He lifts his face, eyes wild and glassy with need.
“I want to ride your cock, Alex,” he breathes, cheeks flushed, voice trembling with desperation. “I want you deep inside me.”
Fucking hell.
My cock twitches in my hand at how filthy and honest he is, how he says it like a prayer and a demand all in one.
“The dick’s all yours, baby,” I say, voice rough, almost slurred from need. “Don’t tell me you don’t know how to put it in.”
He lets out a broken whine, lifting just enough to grab my cock and lube it. I recline the seat further to give him room. A grunt escapes me, and my head falls back against the headrest as the hot, wet head of my cock kisses his stretched rim.
And then he sinks.
Slow. Maddening. Torturous.
Every muscle in my body locks. My jaw clenches as I force myself to stay still, to let him take it at his own pace, even as my cock throbs with the effort not to fuck up into him.
A sharp gasp leaves us both as he lowers further. My hands find his waist, and overcome, I grip him tight and pull him down in one impatient snap of my hips, burying every aching inch of me inside him.
“Fuck,” I growl, the sound guttural as pleasure crashes through me.
He shudders in my lap, a trembling mess, his fingers digging into my shoulders, head tilted forward, breath ragged and shallow. His chest rises and falls with broken gasps, and when I reach up to cup his flushed cheek, he leans into my touch like he needs it.
His eyes finally open, and when they meet mine, they undo me.
Every emotion I’ve ever wanted to be seen… is staring back at me.
Need. Want. Trust. Longing.
Love.
It hits me like a punch to the gut—this is it.
That thing I’ve been circling, that I couldn’t wrap my head around, resisting… the feeling that’s been blooming in the background ever since he came into my life.
I love him.
I fucking love him.
“I love you,” I whisper, voice shaky but certain, like the words are both a confession and a prayer.
His eyes go wide, but I don’t give him the chance to speak, because I’m already moving. My hands grip his waist again, tight, possessive, and I drag almost all the way out, slow enough to hear his breath catch before slamming my cock back into him in one hard, desperate thrust.