Ken’s eyes fluttered shut, his lips parting on a silent moan as I slid one finger inside him, then another, stretching him. His body welcomed me, tight and hot as I finger-fucked him slow and easy.
He was so tight—I couldn’t wait to feel him clench around my cock.
“Marc, please,” Ken begged, his voice barely more than a whisper, but it was a plea I couldn’t ignore.
I withdrew my fingers, earning a whine of protest from Ken, but I quickly silenced it with a deep, lingering kiss. “Shh, almost there,” I murmured against his lips, reaching once more for the condom.
But Ken took it from me. “Let me,” he said with a playful smirk as he shifted me onto my back, his fingers deftly rolling the latex down my cock. His touch was light, teasing, and it took all my self-control not to thrust into his hand.
Ken straddled me again, that beautiful face hovering inches above mine, our eyes locked as he positioned himself onto my cock and then—
“Fuck, yes,” I breathed out.
It was like coming home, like puzzle pieces locking into place. The feel of him, hot and slick and so damn tight as he sank down on my cock, was almost too much. I gripped his hips, my nails biting into his skin as I fought for control. Ken took me in slowly, his eyes fluttering shut, a soft moan escaping his lips.
“God, you’re so tight,” I groaned, my voice thick with need.
Ken’s response was to move his hips in a tantalizing slow grind.
We moved in perfect sync, a languid, unhurried rhythm, each thrust like a whispered promise. This wasn’t a race; it was a slow, sweet exploration of each other’s bodies as Ken rode me, his cock bobbing between us, leaking precum onto my stomach.
I reached down to stroke him in time with our movements, and his breath hitched at my touch. “Fuck, Marc,” he gasped, his voice ragged with need, and the sound of my name on his lips was enough to send me right to the edge.
But I held on, wanting to make this last, to savor every second of this stolen time with him. Ken’s pace increased, and he closed his eyes as his movements grew more frantic, and I knew he was close.
“Fuck, ride me, just like that.” My voice dropped to a low growl as I tilted my hips up, changing the angle enough to hit that sweet spot inside him with each thrust. His breath caught, and then he was coming, back arching as he spilled over my hand and painted my chest with white streaks as he clenched around me, pulling me over the edge with him.
I came with a low groan, the pleasure so intense it bordered on pain. My vision whited out as I exploded, my body shaking with the force of my orgasm.
We collapsed in a sweaty, panting heap. Ken’s head rested on my chest, my arms wrapped tightly around him, neither willing to break the silence that enveloped us. Then he lifted his head and found my mouth, kissing me with a shaky breath. In that moment, there was no past, no future—just the two of us, still joined in the most intimate way possible.
There was no doubt in my mind now. I had fallen hard for Ken Parker.
And for the first time in a long time, I had all I needed.
Afterwards, we cleaned a little, then I held Ken close, marveling at the depth of emotions welling inside me. Ken’s head rested on my chest, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on my stomach. I messed with his soft, silky hair and was struck by a profound sense of rightness.
The pieces of my life, jagged and broken for so long, seemed to settle into place with him by my side.
My mind replayed the milestones that led us here—the tentative first kiss, the stolen glances, the late-night conversations baring our souls. Somewhere along the way, without even realizing it, I had fallen irrevocably in love with this man.
The force of the emotion stole my breath, and as I tightened my arms around Ken, I was overcome with the powerful need to protect him, to cherish him—to one day build a life with him.
Chapter Eleven
Ken
As we stepped out of the restaurant, the flavors of carne asada and mango salsa lingered on my tongue. Marc’s hand found mine, our fingers lacing together as we walked. “I’d never tell my mother, but that was the best Mexican food I’ve ever had,” Marc said, his eyes sparkling. “Can’t believe we almost missed this place.”
I smiled, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “It was great. We should stop by and thank the concierge for the rec before we leave.”
We strolled along the Riverwalk, the twinkling lights reflecting off the water and casting a romantic glow on our surroundings. The laughter and chatter of other couples and families filled the air, adding to the magical ambiance.
“So, I was thinking—” Marc began, his voice taking on a playful tone.
“Oh, that’s gonna get us in trouble,” I said with a snort.
Marc nudged me with his shoulder. “I get you later for that,” he teased. “But seriously—we talked about checking out that club, going dancing. But what about doing that tomorrow nightinstead?” he asked, his voice low and rumbly as he spoke into my ear.
