Chapter 19 #3
I gesture. “You’re still wearing clothes.”
“Oh,” he says, like’s he’s just realized, and then the boxers are sailing across the room, past a neatly organized desk and an umbrella stand. “Sorry.”
“You shy?” I ask, staring appreciatively at his cock, which is almost exactly as I imagined, long and girthy, with precum pearling at the tip. “Because you definitely don’t need to be.” Something occurs to me. With a lurch of panic, I ask, “You’ve been with a guy before, right?”
It’s not that I’m against being someone’s first. But I definitely would’ve liked to have known ahead of time.
By the way he scowls, I know I’ve offended him.
Before I can apologize, he scoots back on the bed, then lowers his head directly between my legs.
Heat envelops me, and I groan as he runs the flat of his tongue across the underside of my cock, starts to bob his head up and down.
His eyes meet mine, and there’s no mistaking the meaning behind them: challenge accepted.
“Point taken,” I choke, but he doesn’t back off. Instead, he hollows his cheeks, increasing the suction. I clench the sheets, trying not to thrust, making frantic little movements that I can’t quite control.
Somehow, even with my cock in his mouth, he manages to look smug.
I cram a fist into my mouth to cover the moan that escapes me. It’s wanton, decidedly obscene, and if I weren’t already flushed, I would be now.
He’s way too good at this and I’m too wound up, desperate now, staring back at him, trying to last just a little longer—
And then he pulls off me. A strand of saliva connects his wicked grin to my cock. I make a wounded noise, reeling from this sudden betrayal. “Wait, what?” I say stupidly, and he bites the inside of my thigh, just hard enough to sting.
“Oh, fuck,” I groan. I want him to mark me. To leave tiny little claiming bruises all over my body, inescapable reminders that he wanted me, at least for these few minutes. It’s not a thought I’ve ever had before. It scares me as much as it excites me.
“Better?” He peers up at me through thick lashes, then bites me again.
I am not better. If he keeps this up, he is going to kill me, and it is going to be magnificent. “You’ve convinced me,” I pant. “Sorry.”
He’s sitting on the bed with his legs akimbo, cock bobbing hard and red against his stomach. With wild abandon, I realize exactly where I want to be and climb onto his lap. Our lengths brush and I groan, grind into him as he gasps, chasing my mouth.
My hands travel from his shoulders to his buttocks to his cock, hot and smooth in my grip. I swipe my thumb over the tip, pump him lazily.
“Lube,” Duncan chokes, reaching over me to open the bedside table drawer.
His free hand seizes my hip. It’s probably just to keep me from pitching over the edge of the bed and onto the floor with the change in position, but something about it feels possessive.
I’m way more into this than I expected to be, my veins suddenly alight with new flash of ardent yearning.
The bottle of lube drops into my lap. It’s freezing cold. Goosebumps erupt along my thighs.
“What do you wanna do?” I ask, pressing closer, trapping our cocks between us. The slide of skin on skin is so, so good, but there’s too much friction.
Duncan slows, inhales hard, rolls against me, and says, “Honestly? This. This is good.”
I’m not going to last long enough for us to do much else, so I nod and uncap the bottle.
Duncan holds out an expectant palm. I squirt lube into it, then mouth at the place between his shoulder and neck, relishing the shiver that rises up between us.
His hand slips down to where our hips meet.
The slide of his hand over my cock sends sparks shooting up my spine.
Then his length rubs beside mine, and I realize he’s guided us together, jerking us both at once with quick, measured movements.
“Fuck,” I moan. This isn’t exactly what I was envisioning, but it’s perfect, if a little awkward. I try to adjust so that he doesn’t lose his grip, but he knows what he’s doing, keeping both of us in place as he rapidly picks up speed.
I come first with a broken cry, fingers digging into his thigh. He follows after me with a shudder and a soft grunt.
Our foreheads brush. He leans into me, panting, and I trail my fingers over his ribs, grinning when he looks at me.
“Good?” he asks.
I nod, then flop back onto the mattress. “I’m cuddly,” I warn.
He reaches for a box of tissues, rolls his eyes as his wipes his hand. “I’m a wolf. Did you think I would be opposed?”
“I guess not,” I say, gratefully accepting a wad of tissues so that I can clean myself off. “Just thought I should warn you.”
“It’s not gonna be a problem,” he assures me, but his normally expressive face is unreadable.
For all of two seconds, I start to panic. Then he slots into bed behind me, presses his face straight into the back of my neck, and says, “Fuck, I can’t wait to do this again.”
I roll onto my back so that I can meet his eye and say, “You’d fucking better.”