Could be.
By the time the elevator doors opened, a low hum had spread across my skin.
The room was just as impressive as the rest of the hotel, all rich fabrics and sleek, modern lines, but it was the panorama took my breath away: floor-to-ceiling windows capturing a cityscape where the Riverwalk glowed below, and the Tower of the Americas reached skyward. “This view is amazing,” I murmured.
“It is,” Ken agreed, but when I glanced over, his eyes were fixed on me, not the window. The intensity in his gaze made my mouth dry, that delicate beauty of his dark and hungry. “Though I can come up with a few things that might top it.”
Ken closed the distance between us, his hands coming up to frame my face as his mouth found mine in a searing kiss. I groaned, my hands fisting in his shirt, tugging him closer, desperate to eliminate any remaining space between Ken and me.
“Marc,” he whispered against my lips, his breath hot and ragged.
“I know, baby,” I murmured back, my voice rough with need. “I got you.”
We stumbled backward until my legs hit the bed, and then we were falling—a tangle of limbs, seeking hands, and fevered kisses.
We undressed each other slowly, reverently, as I mapped out each inch of Ken’s body with my hands and mouth, delighting in every gasp and shudder I drew from him. I kissed the column of his throat, the slope of his shoulders, the freckled expanse of his lightly haired chest, my lips dropping baby kisses down his abdomen to the thin fabric of his slacks.
“You’re driving me crazy,” he gasped, his fingers threading through my hair.
“Good.” I chuckled softly and nipped at his hip bone.
Ken’s fingers worked just as tenderly on my clothes, his slim hands pushing my T-shirt up and over my head, his nails scraping lightly over my pecs, sending jolts of pleasure through me. Our pants followed, along with our briefs, every bit of clothing tossed aside in our haste to be skin to skin.
“Marc, I need you,” Ken moaned, his body arching into mine.
“I’m right here.” Capturing his lips in another deep, passionate kiss, we stretched out on that enormous bed, the soft plush cotton comforter cool against my back. I gazed down at Ken’s naked body—slim and compact and perfectly toned—his pale skin draped across my side. “You’re beautiful, Kenny.”
My hands slid down his shoulders and across his back, finally resting on that perfect round ass that had kept me awake at night. He grunted when I squeezed those muscles, his chest rising and falling as we stared at each other.
Ken straddled my hips, his cock hard and flushed against his belly, and I couldn’t tear my eyes away. He was beautiful all over, and the raw need on his face when he looked at me made my chest ache with an emotion too big and too unfamiliar to name.
Ken reached for a small bag sitting on the nightstand, his fingers brushing against mine as he retrieved a bottle of lube and a condom, setting it next to us.
I rolled us over with a swift movement, pinning Ken beneath me, my cock pressing against his hip. In his wide, hazel eyes, a reflection of my own needs and hunger stared back. My hands traveled down his sides to grip his hips, his body arching off the bed toward me, craving more.
“Marc,” he breathed out, his voice shaky with need—and perhaps something deeper.
As I captured his lips in a fierce, claiming kiss, I wasn’t just marking him as mine; I was pouring every ounce of my longing, my hope, my newfound sense of home, into that kiss. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been truly seen and wanted, and it overwhelmed me with a heady mix of lust and tenderness.
I kissed my way down his body, lingering at the hollow of his throat, the jut of his collarbone, the delicate pink nipples that pebbled under my tongue.
“Fuck,” Ken gasped, his voice trembling. His fingers threaded through my hair, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps as I took my time, savoring every moment, every taste of him. “God, what’re you doin’ to me?” he panted, words slurring, his hips lifting slightly off the bed.
That made me chuckle. “I’m taking care of my birthday boy, that’s all…” When I reached the juncture of his thighs, I looked up at what I had spread out before me—Ken’s flushed cheeks, the rapid rise and fall of his chest, and the glistening tip of his cock.
Perfect and mine. “I got you,” I repeated from earlier, then gripped his hips, holding him in place as I lowered my head and took him into my mouth.
Ken’s body bowed off the bed, a strangled cry tearing from his throat. “Fuck, yes,” he moaned, his fingers clutching my hair tighter.
I swirled my tongue around the head of his cock before taking him deeper.
“Oh, fuck, just like that,” Ken groaned, his voice ragged.
I worked him with a steady rhythm, my hand and mouth in perfect sync, relishing the sounds of pleasure that fell from his lips. His fingers tightened in my hair, his body tense, but the last thing I wanted was for him to be done too soon.
I wanted this to last. “Not yet, baby,” I murmured against his skin, pulling back just enough to keep him on the edge. “I want you to feel everything.”
I reached for the lube on the nightstand, slicking up my fingers, pausing long enough to lock eyes with him, to watch the array of emotions play across his face as I gently probed his wrinkled hole.
