SEVEN #2
My heart thunders when his eyes soften, slow-burning heat swimming in them along with something else as his arms loop around my shoulders, his fingers threading into my hair, guiding me to his nipple.
Fuck, he must be so sensitive and sore. The last thing I want to do is hurt him in any way. But when I lick the tight bud, and pull it into my mouth, sucking on it gently, the whimper of relief that leaves him makes my cock jump inside him.
Sweetness floods my mouth and runs down my throat, his body riding me gently, his hands stroking my hair.
I’m on fire. I’m burning from the inside out with no way to escape. With no wish to escape.
“You like this, Devon?” he whispers in my ear, kissing my hair, and my balls draw up painfully. I breathe hotly around his nipple. “Yeah, you do. You like this so much.” He hums when I suck a little harder, fucking himself on me slowly, tenderly. I—I think… I think he’s making me—
My release hurts this time. He drags it out of me, my cum simply flowing and flowing inside him.
I can’t stop nursing from him. I can’t stop coming in him. I’m completely lost in him.
His insides tremble around me, and I hold him even tighter.
“You’re so good, Alpha. Feeding from me and breeding me at the same time.
Oh—oh, I’m—” He buries his moan in my hair as he comes, spilling on me, pulsing hard around me, drawing out every drop left in me until I’m wrung dry.
Until I have nothing left to give him. Until he’s taken everything from me.
I keep my knot out of him, even though it kills me not to stretch him full, not to lock us together one more time. But there is no time for that.
I simply breathe him in, eyes closed, nose pressed against his warm chest, heart erratic, while we both come down, while I try to get myself under a scrape of control.
When we pull back, and I look at him, I don’t think that’s ever going to be possible again.
His hands are still tangled in my hair, mine wrapped around his back, his face so close his soft breaths fan my cheeks. I don’t know what the fuck I’m supposed to say as I fall into his eyes, but when they flick down to my mouth, it doesn’t matter.
He lowers his lips to mine in the gentlest kiss possible, and I’m powerless to do anything but simply sink into it, letting his touch ground me, bind me. To him.
A kiss has never felt like this. Like souls merging. Like hearts sighing.
But again, I’d never been kissed by Sam Hartwell before.
It’s too soon when it ends, when his fingers loosen their hold and I feel him slipping away even though he’s still right here.
“I should get up,” he murmurs with a small smile that slices me open.
He’s right. I should let him get up. I have to let him get up. But when my arms fall away from him, nothing has ever felt more wrong in my life.
We’re a fucking mess when he slowly slides off my still half-hard cock, slick and cum pooling on my groin. Slick and cum running down his thighs.
His legs are a bit unsteady at first when he stands, but I barely notice it.
No. My attention is elsewhere, on Sam in the early morning light, his skin bearing the marks of our night together. My fingerprints are on him, my kisses, every single one of my touches. They’re all there on his well-used body. Just like I can feel every one of his touches on mine.
But despite the fact that something inside me is slowly withering as I watch him track down his clothes and I attempt to do the same, I can’t help but damn love that he’s no longer hiding himself from me, that he’s comfortable enough to leave everything that makes him him out in the open. As he should.
It doesn’t take either of us longer than a few minutes to get dressed, though I have absolutely no idea if my shirt is even buttoned up correctly since my focus is shot to shit.
Sam is back to wearing his own clothes, holding his tablet and his phone, my shirt folded in his arms.
“I should go home for a bit and clean up,” he says, a rosy blush painting his cheeks as he tilts his head to look up at me. Fuck, when did I even get this close again? “If I’m a little late—”
“Take the day off, Sam.” I don’t even try to hide the hoarseness in my voice, but I do try to smile at him. It’s something surprisingly easy to do in his presence. “Go home, get some rest, be with your Eli. I took enough of your time yesterday.”
His eyes widen briefly in surprise, his lips parting as if preparing to say something, but he doesn’t. He just watches me for a moment before he nods.
“Today’s appointments are all in your calendar. Everything should be clear, but if it’s not, call me if you need anything.”
The only thing I need is you.
The urge to touch him is so vast, I have to slide my hands into the pockets of my slacks to stop myself from reaching for him.
“Don’t worry. I can hold down the fort for one day. I’m not completely useless,” I huff, and he chuckles softly, the sound warming up something that had already grown cold ever since he slipped out of my arms.
“Okay.” He smiles, his eyes flicking to the shirt he’s holding. “I’ll wash it and give it back to you—”
“Keep it.” I can’t wear it again, not when it will only remind me what last night felt like. What I’m fucking letting go because I can’t keep it safe.
I swear his arm flexes, pulling the folded shirt closer. Or maybe I’m just seeing things at this point.
“Then I’ll just… see you tomorrow,” he says, voice soft, eyes even softer.
“See you tomorrow,” I rasp.
He nods and turns to leave, my instinctive reaction to grab him and pin him to the door so he never leaves this office so visceral, I fucking sway on my feet for a second, my hands balling into fists in my pockets.
Sam is already halfway to the door when he stops.
My heart thunders in my chest as he peers at me over his shoulder, as he turns on his heel and slowly makes his way back to me. As he halts inches from me and looks up.
I don’t think I’m breathing as he rises on his toes, and presses a small kiss to my cheek.
It’s a touch so simple. Innocent. Sweet.
And it wrecks me.
I barely manage to keep it together as he smiles and leaves me, the door unlocking and clicking shut behind him once more.
My body is heavy when I finally sit in my office chair, and my eyes ache from staring at the spot he was standing just moments ago. But my cheek is warm. So warm.
I trace that warmth with my fingers.
The sun has been out for quite some time before I get up to wash up, change clothes, and clean up the mess around me.
But I can do nothing about the fucking mess inside me. I can only pretend.
Pretend I’m the same man I was yesterday.
I do such a good job, I almost convince even myself.
Almost.