38. Orion #2
“Thank fuck for that.” A quick blast of relief turns to a look of extreme determination. Determination that would scare me if I wasn’t so happy. Jordan’s chin dips, his jaw setting with ominous intent. “I’m going to love you so fucking hard, O. I’m going to make up for lost time. You’ll see.”
Jordan Slater is officially overjoyed. He’s practically bouncing off the walls in my bedroom.
He’s zooming around the room, zig-zagging from the walls to the bed at a speed that’s making it hard for me to keep up with him.
We’ve had an amazing day, and we just got our test results back.
Our panels are negative, and as a result, euphoria has hit him in full force—and it’s showing no sign of releasing him from its grip.
“I mean, can you fucking believe it?” he cries, spreading his hands wide at his sides.
He’s buck naked, and it’s the first time I’ve seen him really hyped up without his clothes on.
It’s definitely something I could get used to.
“The coincidence. The happenstance. The fucking odds of falling in love with your best friend.” He waves his arms around wildly.
“Out of billions and billions of people, the two of us love each other. How incredible is that? Seriously, what do you think the odds of it happening are?”
I’m in bed, a little slow from all the orgasms we’ve given each other tonight. “Low,” I mumble, groggy but disgustingly happy. “I think the odds are low.”
Jordan’s eyes light up, and he raises his outstretched pointer finger to the ceiling.
A gesture that leads me to suspect a harebrained idea has landed.
“You know what we should do? We should google it. That’s what we should do.
I want an exact number. Something tangible.
Actually”—he pauses, slowing and turning his pointed finger on me—“you know what we should do? We should ask West to calculate it for us. There’s a nice way of putting that genius math brain to use. ”
“We’re not asking West to calculate the statistical probability of anything to do with us having sex, Jordan.”
“Jordan? Jordan? Absolutely not, O. From now on, if you call me Jordan, I’m going to think I’m in trouble.
” He bounds over and throws himself onto the bed, landing on his knees, causing us both to bounce several times before the mattress settles.
“Is that what you want? For me to think I’m in trouble? ”
He waggles his eyebrows at me in the most ridiculous way. A way he thinks is convincing. An exuberant, ludicrous action that can’t possibly be taken seriously.
Ah fuck.
I’m so fucked.
I’m going to be finding this shit attractive for the rest of my life, aren’t I?
I’ve known Jordan for long enough that I know there’s only one thing that helps when he gets like this. He has an excess of energy, and he needs to burn it off. Stat.
Fortunately, I know exactly how to do it.
“Jordy,” I say, stretching my hand out and circling the back of his neck, “did you mean it when you told Summer you like putting things in your butt?”
He stamps a kiss on my lips and grins at me. “You remember that, huh?”
“Let’s just say it made an impression on me.”
I move quickly, pulling him down on the bed and rolling him onto his back in a single fluid movement.
His head hits the pillow, and a flame I know well begins to flicker under parchment.
Beautiful things light up and make my heart sing.
Beneath me, Jordan’s body is hard and warm, strong in all the right places.
It’s comforting too because when we’re close like this, it’s so obvious that we fit together.
He kisses me again, a little longer this time, and whispers, “I did mean it.”
I push myself up, kneeling between his legs, and watch in a daze as he lays his body out on offer for me.
A big hand travels lazily upward, bending at the elbow and slipping under his head, giving me an intoxicating view of a rippling bicep and the dark hair of his armpit.
He breathes deeply and easily, chest rising and falling in a way that’s nothing short of mesmerizing.
He opens his legs slowly. So slowly, so deliberately, my mind whites out.
When it comes back online, Jordan is spread out for me.
He’s hard, dick swollen and stretched out on his stomach.
His knees are bent and splayed open. His inner thighs are smooth, almost hairless, and paler than the rest of him.
I bow my head and kiss his knee, rubbing my face lightly against it because, fuck, I can’t get enough of him.
Arousal flows through me in thick, heated waves every time I think about what I’m going to do to him. It’s something I’ve fantasized about for years. Something I’ve dreamed of at night and forbidden myself from thinking about during the day.
There are so many things I’ve wanted from Jordan. Things that are mine now. And this? Well, this is more than I dared hope for.
Jordan flexes his cock, making it twitch to hurry me along, and gives me a cocky up-nod. He’s impatient. My impatient horny boy. He wants to be played with, and I’m the one who gets to do it.
I run my fingertips down his thighs lightly, all the way to where his legs join his body, and then up again. He lets me do it three or four times before reaching up, grabbing the lube off the nightstand, and handing it to me. An unsubtle hint that leaves me in no doubt about what he wants.
The next time my hand moves down his thigh, he catches my wrist when it gets close to his ass and holds it there.
His eyes blaze, then beg. I love him so much that I can’t leave him wanting, so I move quickly, slathering my fingers in lube and thoroughly coating his opening.
Burned paper chars, and sweet Jesus, I can’t take it if he smiles at me while I do this.
Of course, because he’s Jordan, he does. He takes my first finger with a huge smile on his face. A smile that falters as his body gives way. A smile that fades completely as I ease my finger into him to the knuckle.