CHAPTER TWENTY DEAN #2
Nick’s noises aren’t matching the kind of big, sexy talk he was spouting a few seconds ago—he isn’t making porny moans; he’s humming with satisfaction and breathing gently, rocking back and forth on me when he realizes I’ve stilled.
He’s nothing short of relaxed. Slamming into him wouldn’t be natural at all.
What is natural is matching his energy.
I thrust again, but gentle and slow, removing my hands from his waist and placing them on the sides of his legs. That gives him the freedom to lazily arch up to lean into my thrusts, and the blunt, blissful pleasure sinking deep into my core knocks the wind out of my lungs.
Yeah, this has gotta be ten times better than jackhammering.
“Is this okay?” I manage, and Nick drops his head to the mattress, still keeping position, and chuckles lightly.
He fucking chuckles.
God, that makes my spine tingle with affection.
“Uh-huh.” He nods slowly, tightening his ass around me. It isn’t to make me speed up, or go harder, or anything of the sort. It’s like he’s hugging me mid-sex.
This is downright sensual, and my god, I…
I need more. I start thrusting again—this is the third time I’ve stopped in as many minutes, and I force myself to stay focused.
I’m still being gentle as hell, though, rocking in and out of Nick, savoring the slow, pleasured waves spreading through me, and enjoying the sweet noises he’s making.
They aren’t any I’ve heard before, and again, he’s finding new ways to make me fall harder. Without even trying.
“Do you want me to go harder?” I ask, hoping he agrees. The only thing stronger than my instinct to be gentle is my instinct to do whatever this man asks me to.
He shakes his head once. “No, I don’t.”
Fuck me. I push forward into him, cutting his breath short.
He recovers and continues. “Don’t change this. You’re— This is perfect.”
That slip of his tongue and the sheer implication of it sends heat into my chest and solid lead into my stomach.
There’s no coming back. I don’t know if he realized, and maybe his brain is too fucked-out to have acknowledged, but there’s no way I’m going to call attention to the kind of inconvenient adoration I’ve craved since I can remember.
This has gone on for far too long. We need to cut this short—the sex, and whatever kind of messed-up half-formed, fully doomed relationship-adjacent thing we’ve got between us.
“God, I need you to come,” I mutter, mustering up a cliché porn star persona and returning my hands to his waist. “I wanna see your huge, sticky load all over my sheets.”
Nick doesn’t flinch at the vibe shift. He doesn’t even buy into it. He simply flicks his head back at me, giving me half of a disarming gaze and smiling his pleasant little smile, before nodding and reaching down to stroke his cock.
One last time, I try and fail to speed up and thrust harder into his tight hole, before settling for savoring him.
“Tell me how much you want this,” I manage.
He hums. No heat there. “So bad, Dean.”
Why did he have to say my name?
But he doesn’t stop there. “You’re… God, you’re fucking amazing.”
“Then come for me.” My voice comes out soft. Gentle. Reverent.
It’s then when I realize I don’t want him to come because I want this to end—I want him to come because I want him to feel good.
Nick was on the edge already, given how shaky his hips were, but as soon as those words leave my lips, he shoots.
The convulsions of his ass around me drag me along with him, and his figure blurs into nothing as the orgasm consumes me. I hear the splatter of his cum hitting the sheets through our collective moan, which might as well be time-synced to perfection.
Out of control, I withdraw my dick and lean down, turning Nick over and crashing my mouth against his.
There’s no stopping me. Or us. Nick hooks a hand behind my neck and pulls me even closer, whispering a gasped protest whenever I pull back for air, and before long, I give up trying.
Our bodies mesh together along with our mouths.
I think my knee lands in the puddle of his release, and I don’t care because it’s Nick’s.
Fuck. I like him too much to care about any of that. The only thing on my mind is soaking in the sheer ecstasy of his stubbled kisses, listening to his ragged, desperate breathing, and grinding against his groin.
“Oh, man, you gotta let me catch my breath,” Nick wheezes after a while, planting a strong palm on my chest and guiding me onto my back. He grabs the pack of wipes from my nightstand and tosses a few sheets at me. “But damn, you’re good. I can’t even feel my toes.”
After propping myself up on an elbow to face him, the words leave my mouth before I can stop myself. “Aw, yeah. You said I was perfect.”
So much for not drawing attention to that.
“I said what?” He blinks at me, lips parted, and his silly grin dims. “I called you amazing, ‘cause, like, you’re amazing at screwing my brains out.”
There’s a twinge in my gut that I honestly should ignore. I don’t know if he’s trying to deny being sweet, or if he was simply too sex-brained to remember saying it. And even though him calling me perfect goes against our flimsy agreement—
I want to be more than casual with him.
The idea is so unrealistic, and I can’t think of a way to make things feasible now, but if there’s a will…
“Nah.” I boop my finger against Nick’s nose, making him snicker. “You said I was perfect. You’re such a sweet-talker.”
“Huh.” His expression is blank, save for his spaced-out smile that’s hardening into something more confident. “Maybe I did. And you know what? I don’t take it back.”
“God, you’re so cute,” I murmur affectionately.
Nick’s expression firms right up, although he checks himself a second later. “Let's not…” He runs a hand over his face. “Enough of this soft shit. I'm fucking starving.”
Nothing about his laugh, or his attempt at a playful shove, is convincing in the slightest. His eyes, which most certainly are not smiling, linger on mine, and for the first time, they don't give off warmth.
Just…resignation.
I don’t have time to dwell on that because Nick hauls himself out of the bed and gets dressed. Following, I join him in the kitchen where he’s grabbing eggs out of the fridge and heating up a pan.
He turns to me, smiling now, and the nerves in my gut dissipate slightly. “Don’t you dare set foot in here. You’re gonna burn the house down.”