Chapter 19 #3
“You.” The smallest sign to make, but it felt weighty as I pointed towards him.
“How?” Simon’s voice rang clear between us.
Oh god. Of course he was all straightforward about it. Of course we were having this conversation. With actual words.
I couldn’t look away from him. Couldn’t take it back now. Couldn’t lie.
“Inside me.” The sign – the slip of my hand underneath my palm felt so literal. My gut twisted with anticipation.
“Good.”
Pulling me closer, he rutted in against the sharp cut of my hip and all the blood in my body stormed my cock with a stiff, hungry throb.
His skin infused his body heat right into me, thawing me out when I hadn’t even realised I was cold.
Unbearable, this was. With my cock jabbing in at his like we were into swordsmanship and there was about to be a duel.
Defensively, I plastered to his chest, pushing him closer to his bed, and his fingers dug in on an aching, muscle-deep grab to my arse.
On the bed, he butterflied a dry trail of kisses along the line of my lower ribs and I flopped onto his sheets, roiling under him with a stuttered gasp, hips pitching up, seeking him out.
Sucking me into his mouth, he swallowed me down. His stupid-clever tongue did something spectacular and I full-on died a thousand times over, balling his covers in my fist, gnawing through my lip trying not to shout. Never mind piano, he could play me all damn day.
The bastard pulled off with a wet smack, leaving me gasping, and he ducked his head, dusting his forehead against my chest for a stretched out moment when all he did was breathe. Under my hand, the rise and fall of him settled, and I palmed at the dense moss of his curls.
And then reached across me, scrabbling for supplies in his bedside table.
This was it.
Everything I wanted.
And I already wanted to do it again and again and again, without the awkward bit.
Fuck it – I wanted to find out whether all his duvet covers had dark textured patterns across the surface of them for me to deface just like this one.
And maybe after all those laundry days he wouldn’t think I was a total prat.
He rolled onto his back, holding a condom out and I tore into the packet with my teeth, fiddling out the slippery circle of rubber, reaching for his cock again, watching him watching me.
His mouth hinged open, gusting breathless little pants into the air as I rolled the condom down the length of him.
“Taking care of me, are you?”
God he looked good like that, letting me touch him however I wanted.
“And what?”
“And nothing. I like it.”
Rough and hungry and slow and thorough, he claimed my mouth with a bruising possessiveness, coaxing me open with his tongue delving between my lips like I was worth savouring. He had to feel the embarrassingly needy sound I let out.
I straddled his lap, kneeling high, every inch of me thrumming as he painted the line of my arse with a globbed smear of cold lube.
His bastard long fingers worked inside me, opening me up, hollowing me out.
Shivered pleasure tided through me in a wash of heat and I barely held myself up, clawing onto his shoulders as he pushed remorselessly deep.
“Fuck. Fuck. Oh, fuck.”
Simon swallowed every single curse.
Holding his cock steady at the root, I speared myself onto him.
His soft, curled groan shuddered so full of joy I wanted to bottle it.
I could barely stand the fullness and my eyes rolled back as I took him in.
My body quivered, stuttering around him, edging on the overwhelming muchness of it, and all the chaos of the last few days stilled to this singular, unforgiving point of bliss.
Beading sweat, and the smooth, smooth dryness of his skin and his muscles and his bones all knitted into the shape of him beneath my hands. In the stillness, his pulse clock-ticked deep inside me. And it felt like everything.
His smile brightened – all Simon – breath-crackling tension, and his arms tightened around my sides like he thought I’d slip away.
“Told you you’re gorgeous.”
Fuck me. If he wanted to think that, he could think that.
He sucked the lobe of my ear into his mouth, and the wordless rumble of his voice sounded like the rain on the guttering at the station. I nearly collapsed on top of him.
Hands dry against my hips, he urged me to move against him.
So I did.
Racing him to match his pace, sweat dripped off my forehead, spattering onto his chest, and every time he arched up I made sounds I’d never made for anyone in my life.
He was in me. In me. In me. And oh god it was glorious.
He came first. I made sure of it, gritting my teeth to hold back until his eyelids fluttered and his chin tipped up, and he tensed and sighed and stuttered and I spurted wet and sticky between us so violently the world went dark and blurry and I collapsed against him.
Simon kissed me and kissed me, and kissed me, pulling me down next to him in the rumpled disaster of his sheets, rolling me under him, and he didn’t even seem to mind the mess.